One of the really funny things about life is that when you’re up to your neck in shit, you get used to the smell.
The last six years had been exactly that, each day worse than the day before. And all during that time, I had done everything I needed to do and had functioned one day at a time. Now, it was all catching up with me.
* * * * * *
I had come to New York City as soon as I was 18, my head filled with dreams of overnight Broadway stardom. Within two weeks I had already discovered that I had maybe 10% of the talent I’d credited myself with and that I was a babe in the woods as far as city life goes. I was a gay red-dirt Georgia farm boy and not much else. In another two weeks, I’d be stony broke.
I’d gone to a bar that night to drown my sorrows. In Georgia, we didn’t have local gay bars so I didn‘t know what I was getting into. But, when I saw a whole trail of good looking guys going into this particular bar, I decided to follow. That was how I met Casey.
There’s no other way to describe him than as a nerd. He even had on thick, heavy framed glasses when I met him. I thought he was attractive and even better; he was nice to me, a veritable first in that town. He was shy and so was I but somehow we ended up leaving together. As I’ve said, I was 18. He was 30.
I’m no Adonis but I was in pretty good shape from a life of farm work. I also have a pretty nice cock. Casey had begun spending time at a gym by then, so he was also in pretty good shape under his nerdy clothes. And, he also had a nice cock.
After that first night, we were together for twenty years. Seven years in, we discovered that Casey had a hereditary genetic illness that no one survives. It had a slow progression but it was 100% fatal. He tried to convince me to leave him and find someone else. I told him he’d die a lot sooner if he kept talking that way because I’d be forced to kill him.
We were as perfect for each other as two people can possibly be. I did everything for him that needed doing and when the time came, he died in my arms.
* * * * * *
Now, six months after his death, I was a veritable zombie. Grief was a weight that I couldn’t shift and I barely ate. I got out of bed to use the bathroom and rarely any other time.
Casey had made me his sole heir. He came from a wealthy family and I would never lack funds. He had also left me his apartment, a sleek modern condo in a 5 star building that cost more in condo fees than most people made back home per year.
I was so dumb that the morning after our first night together, I asked him what a room like his rented for. I thought we were in a hotel because he told me the maid would take care of the dirty linens. I never even realized that the condo had a kitchen, another bedroom, a media room and a storage room besides the living room and bedroom that I’d already seen. Casey, instead of laughing at my hayseed ways, delighted in them.
I hated the condo. Even when we were both living there, it was all to his taste. As I lay in bed entangled in dirty sheets, I realized that I had to get away or I’d die. Fear of death is a good motivator.
I got myself out of bed, showered and went to see our lawyer. I told him that I wanted to sell the condo and move away from the city to some place more like the town I grew up in. He, in turn, hooked me up with a real estate woman who was only too happy to have a luxury condo on her books. The bad thing was, she had absolutely no concept of what a small house in a small town was. Her idea of small town was The Hamptons.
That afternoon I bought myself a used Ford Focus. With it, I started driving myself out of the city and along the coast. If I arrived at a town and it looked promising, I’d find a motel and then talk to whatever local real estate agents I could find. After two months of that, I still hadn’t found what I was looking for.
I was on my way back to the city one afternoon when I took a wrong turn. I didn’t realize that I had until I was totally lost. Thinking that if I kept driving I’d have to wind up somewhere, I relaxed and followed the road.
Eventually, I came to a small town on the coast that didn’t even have a sign announcing its name. It looked like it had been dropped from a Norman Rockwell painting; only a lot more run down. I felt right at home.
Driving through the town I came upon the only real estate agent that there was. When I parked and entered her door, I think I woke her up.
She had a binder that contained available properties on each page and she and I sat side by side looking through them. Each property she showed me had an aspect I didn’t like. Some were too much in town, some too far from the ocean, some just downright too new and ugly. I was about to give up and leave when she said, “There is one property I haven’t shown you. I’ve given up on ever selling it; I just keep it listed as a courtesy.”
She rose, went to her filing cabinet and drew out a page. As soon as I saw the photo I was interested. It was an old home that sat in the photo so that you could see the ocean and the beach beyond a picket fence. The house had a broad front porch and a pointed roof. It looked like a drawing of a house that a child might have done.
“It’s in terrible shape, it hasn’t even been occupied in over ten years.” she told me. “It was an estate, the old fellow who owned it had lived there most of his life. His only kin is out of state and not even interested in it. They just want to be rid of it.”
“Could I see it?” I asked. For the first time in months, I felt excited about something.
The real estate lady opened her desk drawer and sorted through a ring of keys. When she found the one she was looking for, she turned to me and said, “I haven’t been out there in years so I can’t vouch for the state it will be in.”
“That’s fair warning.” I replied. “Shall I drive?”
She, of course, insisted on being the driver. As we wheeled through town she acquainted me with the local landmarks, the grocery store, the hardware store, the bakery. I told her that I wasn’t a churchgoer, so she thankfully skipped all of those.
We took a two lane road out of town that ran along the coast and didn’t see another car the whole time. After about a mile or so, I saw the house up ahead.
The late afternoon sunlight made the windows blaze and illuminated the bleached wood siding. It was a house that could have been built anywhere in the States at the end of the 19th century, Bungalow style with thin clapboard that was direly in need of paint and a wide front porch, it was exactly the type of house I’d envisioned. We pulled into a short drive and got out of the car.
The wind was blowing in from the sea, fresh and cool. The long beach grass rippled, sea birds called and I fell halfway in love.
We mounted the three concrete front steps to the wide front porch. From our vantage point there was an unobstructed view of the gray sea over the sand. The front door was exactly in the middle with wide windows on either side. The door itself was heavy oak that had been shellacked so many times that it was black behind an old wooden screen door. I immediately in my mind could hear the sound that screen would make slapping shut.
The real estate lady turned the key in the lock, turned the knob and stepped inside.
Growing up, we weren’t quite dirt poor. My mother always said that we at least one porch step above the dirt. Often, when I was younger, I would walk into town in the early evening so that I could gaze into the windows of the town folks’ houses. They all seemed to be rich to me, even though I now knew they were probably at the bottom of the middle class. But their homes were decorated and the furniture was polished and they all seemed so safe and secure. That was what I was looking for.
As soon as I stepped into the front hallway, I knew that I had found it. The house was still full of the previous tenant’s furniture and belongings. It wasn’t even dusty.
I looked around at the hallway, the stairs rising in front of me and the two rooms that opened off of the front hall. I knew that upstairs I’d find two bedrooms, one on each side of the hallway and that if I went straight ahead on the first floor, and the door that I could see would lead into a long kitchen at the back. It was the house I’d always wanted.
The furnishings were all from around the turn of the century up until the 1930’s. An old rose colored overstuffed mohair sofa and chairs on spindly legs, that I knew would prickle against your skin, skinny high tables that held glazed urn lamps with discolored silk shades and a carpet of faded roses furnished the living room. The walls were painted a mossy green and hung with pictures.
Across the entry hall was a dining room with a dark table and sideboard with bulbous legs. The table was surrounded by a suite of chairs that matched the other pieces and their slip seats were upholstered in faded rose colored striped brocade. In the center of the bare table stood a crystal epergne. This room was painted a shade of old rose that I knew would make the room glow by lamplight. There was a faded and threadbare oriental carpet covering the floor. A brass chandelier with four separate squared lanterns made of slag glass hung in the center of the room and on the heavy sideboard there stood a pair of electric lusters with hanging crystals. Old framed pictures and photos also decorated these walls.
On the back wall of the room was a swinging door that led to the kitchen. It was a large room, almost the width of the house. The walls were covered in glazed wallpaper from the 1920’s that was decorated with a small geometric design on a white background. The woodwork was white and there was a white beaded board dado the covered the bottom half of the walls. The refrigerator, electric stove and white porcelain sink were old and oversized and spotless. In the center of the room, on the black and white checkered tiles and surrounded by chairs, was an oak table with a design in red and black stenciled along its edge.
I felt that I had slipped back in time and finally been invited inside one of those houses that I used to spy into. The house even smelled the way I had imagined, faded scents of apples and furniture polish and dust.
The real estate lady said, “All of this old junk belonged to the man who died. I can help you arrange to have it hauled away. The place comes as is.”
I actually had a lump in my throat as I thought of this household being torn apart.
“May I look upstairs?” I asked.
Climbing the bare wooden stairs I knew that they would squeak, and they did. At the top of the stairs, directly ahead, a door opened into a white tiled bathroom with heavy old porcelain fixtures that were thicker than the modern ones. Silver taps and levers sparkled.
On the right side of the landing, I opened the bedroom door. It looked as if the occupant had just left; the bed made and turned down, clothing still visible hanging in the half open closet. A tall old dresser with a grayed mirror reflected my face back at me. An old patchwork quilt covered the bed and a spindly rocking chair stood near the front window.
Across the landing, a door opened into another bedroom. This one, in contrast, felt long unoccupied, the air cold and stale. The walls were made of beaded board, this time one on top of the other horizontally rather than side by side like the dado in the kitchen. My bedroom growing up had been paneled the exact same way and whereas that room had been shellacked so often that the walls were almost black, these were an old pine color. The bed was made with military precision, the dresser top bare. The room felt oddly sad and frozen. Even so, I felt like this was the room for me, just waiting for someone to give it life again.
As I walked back down the stairs I ran my hand along the banister. When I looked at my palm, there was no grime. Every part of the house was remarkably clean and dust free after standing vacant for so long.
The real estate woman was standing at the door and as I approached her she said, “We still have time to view some other houses, if you’d like.”
“That won’t be necessary.” I said and watched her face fall.
“If this house is reasonably priced, I’d like to make an offer on it.”
At first, she looked as if she couldn’t understand what I’d said, and then slowly a look of skepticism took its place.
“You want this old place?” she asked.
“I do.” I answered. “Shall we go back to your office and proceed?”
She chattered all of the way back to town, afraid I’d change my mind, I think. In her office she looked up the particulars and named a very low sum for the house.
“Of course, that’s what they originally asked. A lot of time has passed since then. I’d offer them…” and named an even lower sum.
“Fine.” I replied. “Just get me the house. If you can have the sale made and the papers signed before my bank closes today, I’ll give you a thousand dollar bonus.”
That lit a fire under her. She seemed to forget that I was even there, her fingers flying on the phone as she yammered into it while opening drawers and piling papers on her desk.
She came to an agreement with the person on the other end of the line and then turned to me.
“How are you planning on paying?” she asked.
“Tell me the amount and what bank to send it to and I’ll have the full amount in their account by morning.”
She took down details, passed them to me and I made my own call. The president of our bank had been a friend to Casey and me, so I called him directly.
We small talked for a moment or two and then I told him the purpose of the call.
“This seems rather rash.” he said. “And that is still a large withdrawal, even with your funds.”
“I’m moving out of the city.” I told him. “The condo is already up for sale and has some interest. As soon as it sells, the funds will be several times what I’m drawing today. Plus, I’m selling everything else except my clothing. And, just think, no more condo fees.”
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked.
“For the first time in years, I’m sure that it’s exactly the right thing.”
“Then I’ll make the arrangements to send the cash overnight. It will be there at the start of business tomorrow. I hope you’ll be happy.”
We said our goodbyes and I turned to the real estate woman.
“What next?” I asked.
She already had signed contracts and other paperwork in her files that the sellers had signed years before. She added the date, I signed everything and she handed me a ring of keys.
“I just need to file all of this but for all intents and purposes, you now own a house.” she said.
“Would you like your bonus by check or cash?” I asked.
She was ecstatic to have made such a profitable sale so quickly and smoothly and I had a hard time getting away from her. I had already made my first friend in town it seemed.
As I was finally backing through the door with her still talking, something occurred to me. I interrupted her flow of words to ask, “Is there someone local who I can hire for some cleaning, that sort of thing?”
“Ida White.” she replied. “She’s the only person in town for you. She has been doing for folks her whole life. I’ll call her right now.”
With a new mission to occupy her, I was finally able to get away.
I drove the short distance back out to the house. The sun had started going down and an even stronger ocean breeze had kicked up. I stood and looked at the solid little house and felt happy for the first time in years. Climbing the porch steps I knew that I would be happy here.
When I got inside, the silent house welcomed me like a warm bath. The power had been shut off so there were no lights but I found an old oil lamp that still contained oil and lit it. The soft glow bathed the living room as it must have in the years before electricity and I sat on the plush sofa and relaxed.
I awoke hours later, the oil lamp guttering as the last of the oil burned. I had just enough light to make it up the stairs. At the top, I immediately went to what I already thought of as “my room”. Lying down on the bed with the curtains still open I could hear the low murmur of the sea and the wind sliding over the house as it must have done for at least the last hundred years. Fully dressed, I was asleep in less than a minute and didn’t reawaken all night.
The next morning I was awakened by someone calling, “Yoohoo, are you awake?”
I jumped up and looked at my watch. I had slept like a stone for over 12 hours. Stepping through the doorway, I looked down the stairs.
At the bottom stood an older lady with tightly curled white hair. She was dressed in a house dress type garment with boots on and a man’s heavy coat over the top.
“I’m Ida White.” she said, peering up at me. “I noticed your car last night after I got a call about you needing help, so I figured you were staying the night. I brought you some breakfast, come and eat before it gets cold.”
I went into the bathroom and washed my face in cold water and then descended to the first floor. I could hear movement in the kitchen and when I looked around the edge of the hall door, Ida White was setting the table for two.
“Don’t just stand there.” she said, looking up. “I don’t bite, at least not when I first meet somebody.”
I walked in and sat down at the place she motioned to. She began to pile eggs and bacon onto a plate and even still warm buttered toast. From a large thermos she poured steaming coffee into a mug.
“This is very kind of you.” I said, picking up a fork.
“We need to check each other out if I might be working here.” she said. She had a very focused way of looking at one. I’m sure she could spot a phony through concrete.
She took her place at the table and we both began to eat, her side eying me occasionally.
When I had almost finished she said, “So, what are you going to do with this place? Tear it down and build one of those new glass and steel houses?”
“God, no.” I replied. “That’s what I’m coming from.”
“So you’re just going to gut it? Put in new windows, paint everything white and bring in modern furniture?”
“Actually, all I want to do is give the place a good spring type cleaning. Do you know what I mean by that?”
“I ought to.” she said. “I’ve been cleaning all of my life. Spring, summer, fall and winter. Even though nobody does spring cleaning anymore.”
She sat drinking her coffee and finally asked, “You’re going to live in the midst of all of this old stuff.”
“When I was a child, this old stuff was the summit of my aspirations. All of my life, I’ve thought that if I could live like this I’d be rich.”
“Well, I’ve already heard that money doesn’t seem to be a problem for you.” she said.
“That’s a relatively new development.” I replied. “Where I grew up, the rich folks didn’t even live this nice.”
She sat contemplating what I’d told her and then she said, “So what kind of cleaning are we talking about?”
“The old fashioned kind.” I replied. “Walls washed down, floors and windows scrubbed, woodwork cleaned, linens laundered, rugs beaten. If you’re up to it, I’d like to go whole hog and carry all of the furniture outside and give it a washing down, too. I want it done right.”
“I have some girls who help me when I need it.” she said, rising and pulling the dishes together. “We’ll need lights and hot water so you’ll need to arrange all of that. How soon are we talking?”
“I’ll go into town and make the power arrangements as soon as we leave.” I said. “Could you start tomorrow?”
“I’m looking forward to it. I love this old house.” she said.
I watched her as she piled the dishes in the sink. The well water was cold but better than nothing for soaking the dirty china, she said.
As I sat watching, something occurred to me.
“I could swear I locked the front door last night.” I said. “How did you get in?”
She turned to look at me guiltily.
“I have a key.” she said. “I used to do for the old man who lived here. I like to keep an eye on the place.”
Suddenly, something made sense to me.
“You’re the one who’s kept it so clean.” I said. “I wondered why there was no dust anywhere.”
She looked even guiltier and said, “I couldn’t have stood to see this place go to rack and ruin. The old man who lived here was a gentle soul. I’ve kept it like he’d have wanted me to.”
“And that’s why you were concerned about what I’d do to it.”
If possible, she looked even guiltier.
“I’m sorry.” she said. “I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night worrying about what might happen to this place. It would have ripped my heart out to see it torn down.”
“Well, you can go home and get plenty of sleep so you’ll have energy for tomorrow.” I said. “In fact, I’m leaving it up to you what ought to be thrown out and what should stay. Just don’t go hog wild. I like everything exactly as it is.”
I could see the burden lift from her and she said, “You and me think alike. When I get done, things will be brighter but nothing will have changed.”
The two of us walked through the house together, remarking on whatever caught our eye. When we reached the living room, Ida said, “I suppose there is one thing you should get rid of.”
She gave me a long look and then said, “That sofa. The old man, when he died, that’s where I found him. I’ve scrubbed it several times but I keep thinking that it still has an odor. And, it gives me the creeps.”
“I don’t mind.” I said. “Besides, I can’t just bring in a brand new sofa. I need something from the same time, something that will fit in.”
We both had to leave, then, me to do my errands and she to rest. As I stepped outside I paused on the porch and looked over the sand at the sea. It was one of those spring days that are warm even though the breeze is cold. The sky was a uniform light gray and the sea a darker shade of the same.
“It’s a pretty place here when the sun shines.” Ida said, watching me.
“I think it’s a pretty place, now.” I replied. “It suits my mood.”
We walked up the path to our autos and at the top I turned to look back at the house.
“It’s a house that makes you feel welcome, isn’t it?” I said.
“It’s like the old time folks are still there, just out of sight.” Ida replied. “I’ve felt that many times there. It’s a house to be happy in.”
“I have to go back to the city and pick up some things and make my arrangements. I’ll be gone a couple of days. Let me know when I can come home.”
I gave her my cell phone number, and then turned back again.
Looking at the house I asked, “Is there anyone in town who does painting?”
“My Tom does.” Ida replied. “Just stop at the hardware store and pick your colors. And open up an account. Tell the owner that Tom and Ida will be picking up whatever you need to get this place in shape. That way you’ll have an accounting for your taxes, too.”
“I want it just the same.” I said. “White clapboard with that dark gray trim. It just needs spruced up.”
Ida was smiling, her face a net of creases.
“You and I are going to get along better than fine.” she said.
My power, it turned out, could be turned on that afternoon. I paid a deposit to make sure. Then, I went to the hardware store and did as I’d been instructed. I paid a deposit on that account, too, just for goodwill and to set the owner’s mind at ease.
The trip back to the city took forever it seemed, mainly because I didn’t want to go there. I wanted to be back in my house by the sea.
My first stop upon reaching the city was at an auction house. I told them that I wanted to get rid of the entire estate, nothing held back except my clothing and then made an appointment for them to start cataloging the next morning. Next. I called our cleaning lady and arranged for her to meet me at the condo.
Once we were there, I explained that would need her to do a final thorough cleaning after the place was emptied. She was sorry to see me move so far away but agreed it was for the best. I gave her all of Casey’s clothing, hoping that some of her family or church members might want some of it. I also gave her a variety of items that she liked and that I wanted her to have to remember Casey by. We had a tearful parting.
I then left and procured a pile of boxes and packing tape. As I filled each box with my clothing and few possessions, I felt as if I were shedding the past. I worked until well after dark.
Standing at the wall of glass in the front room overlooking a maze of square concrete buildings and the deep canyons in between, I felt the weight of depression slowly stealing over me again. I packed a suitcase and checked into a hotel. I wanted a new start, not a trip to the past.
The next couple of days flew by, packed with chores and errands. On the third day around noon, I received the call I’d been awaiting from Mrs. White.
“Your house is all ready.” she told me. “When are you coming?”
I was so happy that I told her I’d be on my way as soon as I checked out of the hotel.
“I’ll leave some lights on for you.” she said. “And some cold dinner in the icebox.”
I called the freight company and requested delivery of my boxes on the following day, got into my little Ford and hit the road. I was almost breathless with longing to get there.
I arrived in town late that afternoon and I was surprised when the real estate lady and the hardware store owner both waved to me as I drove down the main street. The short drive to the house felt longer than the trip from the city.
When I pulled up and parked, I felt like crying. In the short time I’d been gone; the exterior had been painted to look like new. The windows sparkled and a soft warm light glowed behind them. If I had ever had any doubts that this was the right thing to do, they vanished in that instant.
I slowly walked down the path, reveling in the sight of my first true home. After climbing the concrete porch steps, I turned and looked out at the vast sea to where it met the horizon. It made me feel that anything was possible.
I inserted my key in the lock and turned it. Even the door lock had been oiled and it clicked as I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The house was like a time capsule. Everything that I could see looked fresh and clean, the soft colors jewel like and the wood shining in the dimness. Mrs. White had turned on several of the lamps in the living room and dining room and their soft diffused light made the rooms feel like I was dreaming. I walked from room to room, trailing my fingers over the freshly waxed furniture, reassuring myself that it all really existed.
There was a big old table model radio in the living room and when I turned it on, it hummed to life and the dial lit up. It was tuned to a nostalgia station and the strains of a big band from 70 years ago floated through the house.
Going to the kitchen, I opened the door and turned on the light. In the center of the table was a bottle of wine, a stemmed glass and a note from Ida that read “Welcome Home”. At that point, I did cry.
The huge old refrigerator in the corner hummed and when I opened it I found that not only had she left me supper, she’d done some grocery shopping so that I wouldn’t need to leave to find breakfast in the morning. Cold fried chicken, potato salad, sliced tomatoes and a green salad washed down with wine tasted better than any restaurant meal I’d ever eaten in the city. Sitting at the kitchen table with the protective shell of the house around me, I ate my first meal in my new home.
After I’d eaten and washed the dishes (she even remembered to buy dish soap!) I wandered into the living room and sat down in one of the comfortable old chairs with my wine. The living room had heavy velvet drapes of a deep wine color that were pulled back from the window and I could look out over the ocean as I listened to the soft music coming over the airwaves. One might think that having the night and ocean and nature so close by outdoors would feel frightening but it didn’t in the least. I felt so calm and at peace that I didn’t even notice the time passing.
After what must have been hours, I became aware of the photos of the wall in front of me and I rose to look at them more closely. In heavy old fashioned frames there were several pictures of the same two men. Most of the photos were individual studio shots; only the one in the center showed both men together, one seated and the other standing to his right at his shoulder.
Obviously, one of the men had lived here into his old age. I wondered if the other man was his brother. There was a resemblance.
I sat back down and watched the moonlight on the sea for a few hours more before I caught myself dozing off. The third or fourth time that my head snapped back on my neck, I decided it was time to call it a night. I turned off the radio, turned off all of the lights except one small lamp in the living room and climbed the stairs.
I opened the door on the left. The room smelled soapy and clean and the window had been left cracked open a bit so that fresh air flowed in. I turned on the bedside light and looked around. The room somehow seemed warmer than before, not nearly so forsaken. The moon shone in on the braided rag rug on the floor almost as bright as daylight. I took off my clothing, climbed between the sheets and turned out the light. The old horsehair mattress on the bed was as comfortable as a cloud. I watched the moonlight as I lay there but not for long. I was asleep before I even knew it.
The next morning I awoke early, completely refreshed. I showered in the old claw foot tub with curtains all around me suspended by a ring affixed to the ceiling. The heavy cotton towels smelled freshly laundered and I made a note to myself to locate the washer and dryer, if they existed.
I made myself breakfast and ate heartily, did my dishes and then went out to sit on the porch steps with a cup of coffee.
I had just finished it when my phone trilled.
When I answered, Ida said, “What are you doing?”
“Drinking coffee and admiring the view. What are you doing?”
“I’m in town and I have something to show you. Can you come?”
“As soon as I lock up.” I replied. “Where shall I meet you?”
“Just drive downs the street, you’ll see me.” she said and hung up.
The drive to town only took minutes and as soon as was on the main street I saw Ida. She was standing on the sidewalk in front of storefront with large plate glass windows on either side of the doorway. Painted on the glass was “Betty’s Bargain Barn”.
I parked and Ida said, “Let me do the talking.” and led me into the establishment. It was jammed full of furniture, clothing, pots and pans and anything else you can think of. She led me through a narrow aisle to near the back.
Sitting there, recently unearthed judging from the piles of items around it, was a sofa. It wasn’t exactly like the one I had at home but it was a close cousin. It was covered in the same rose colored prickly mohair, had a dark wood frame along the back and the same spindly curved legs. It looked dusty but in almost new condition for something so old.
Ida sat down and motioned for me to sit beside her. The sofa had the same soft, enveloping feel as my own.
“I knew I’d find a replacement.” she said as she stood up. “Lie down and see how it feels for naps.”
I did as told. The sofa was soft yet firm and the armrest was perfect as a pillow. Add a few old throw pillows and the sofa would look as if it had always been in my living room.
“How much?” I asked and Ida held her finger to her lips to silence me.
Turning to the back of the store she yelled, “Betty, I have a question.”
Betty, when she appeared between the piled wares, was a woman of about the same age as Ida. They even looked somewhat alike except Betty had a flowered apron tied around her waist.
“How much do you want for this old sofa?” Ida asked.
“Do you mean that antique sofa?” Betty replied. “It’s in excellent condition; I bought it from the original owner.”
“And it’s been sitting under these piles of junk since Moses was a pup. How much?”
“I can let it go for fifty dollars.” Betty replied.
Ida assumed her most outraged face and said, “It’s not worth twenty.”
“They don’t make them like this anymore.” Betty said. “Reupholstered and in a fancy shop, they’d probably charge you a thousand dollars.”
“And it’s not reupholstered or in a fancy shop and it will probably cost a hundred dollars to get the dust and moths out of it. I’ll give you twenty five.”
“Since it’s you, I could probably go down to forty five.” Betty said.
“And I could maybe, just maybe, go up to thirty.”
“Let’s not dicker in front of your friend.” Betty said. “I can take a sacrifice at thirty five.”
Ida glanced at me and I vigorously nodded.
“Well, I’m not sure it’s a bargain but I guess you win.” Ida told Betty.
“May I look around?” I asked Betty.
“Help yourself.” Betty said with a smile. “I’m open till six and you’ll probably be my only customers all day. If you decide you want the whole shop, I’ll give you a hell of a deal.”
Ida and Betty drifted toward the front and I saw them each take a comfortable chair, probably part of a regular ritual. There were actually several things that I saw that I liked. There was a vase made of pale blue frosted glass with sprays of flowers painted on the front that I could envision on the living room mantel. In a corner, I found a framed print of a dog in snow, surrounded by a blue night sky, his head back and howling. We had had the same print on the stairway in the house where I grew up.
Best of all, there was a wooden porch swing made of slats of weathered gray. The arms had metal eyes where a chin could be attached on each so that it could be hung from the ceiling. I suddenly remembered noticing the pair of hooks in the ceiling of my front porch that very morning.
“Ida, may I ask a question of you?” I called.
When she appeared I showed her the swing.
“A coat of paint and that will look like it was always on your porch.” she said. “My Tom can get the chain and help you hang it.”
“I have a few other things I’d like to ask about, too.” I replied.
Suddenly, the room was flooded with the soft chimes of a clock striking the hour.
“That’s my treasure.” Ida said. “Come and see.”
She led me to the very back of the shop and against the wall stood a tall grandfather’s clock. It had to have been at least a hundred and fifty years old. The case was dark wood and had scrolls and finials at the top. A glass door showed the large brass pendulum swinging inside and another glass door showed the painted face which had flowers painted in a garland around the edge.
“Some day, I’m going to buy this.” Ida said. “The old robber wants a thousand dollars for it.”
“That is a museum piece.” Betty said, popping up from nowhere. “You know I had that looked at and it’s made by a famous clockmaker. A thousand dollars is a give away price. Young people don’t appreciate fine things anymore or that would have flown out the door the day I got it.”
“Well, it didn’t and you’ve always said you’d give me first refusal if anyone asked about it. Some day I’ll come into a fortune and that will be what I spend it on.”
“I ought to just donate it to a museum and take a tax write off.” Betty said as she turned and walked away.
“This is my time machine.” Ida told me. I must have looked mystified because she continued, “I keep thinking about how it was made all of those years ago and about how many people must have looked at it. Maybe even my own grandmother saw it in her day. So, it’s come through all of those years and all of those times and yet, here it is. The very same clock. Still telling the same hours, still keeping the same time. It was all the way back there and here it is now, an actual link to that time. It just keeps on.”
“But if you don’t wind it, it stops and all of that is gone.” I said. I was thinking about Casey and how he had suddenly disappeared from my life.
“That’s the magic part, though. You wind it up and set it and it starts right in again, keeping the same time as it always had. It can’t stop because it can always start up again.”
“You’re too much of a philosopher for me to understand that, really.” I said.
“I’m a crazy old woman who thinks too much is what you mean.” she replied. “Let’s go see what kind of bargain we can get on your other things.”
She led the way up to the front and had a good haggling session with Betty. As I paid for the purchases, Betty looked at me side eyed and asked, “Are you new in town?” knowing all of the time who I must be.
“He’s the fellow who just bought the Martin house.” Ida told her.
“The murder house?” Betty asked.
“Oh, hush, you old fool. That’s a bunch of hogwash and you know it.”
Betty was looking at me with heightened interest as I picked up my items and prepared to leave.
“Tom will be by later to pick up the sofa and porch swing.” Ida told her. “Try not to lose them or resell them before then.”
I followed her to the door and I could tell she was in a hurry to get away but before she could escape I said, “Ida?”
She gave me a look of such innocence I almost fell for it.
“The murder house?” I asked.
“That’s just a bunch of crazy gossip.” she said. “You shouldn’t listen to garbage like that.”
I stood looking at her and she knew I wasn’t going to let it go.
“Oh, come on.” she said, indicating a bench a little bit up the street. “You may as well hear the whole story so I know you get the truth.”
When we were seated side by side, she began her story.
“First of all, there was never any murder. There was an accident and a bunch of old busybodies embroidered it into a whole other story. A long time ago, in 1950, there were two young men who lived at your place. Henry Martin had inherited that place and his friend Peter Quick moved in there with him. They were both sweet young men, no one ever had a bad word to say before the accident.
Anyway, back in those days, your house didn’t have central heating, it had wood stoves. You had to stock up before winter and hope you didn’t run out.
The boys had been living there less than a year when disaster struck. They were outside and Henry was splitting wood while Peter stacked it. Henry had just sharpened his ax and it cut like a razor. He was whaling away and had just swung to split a log when the ax head came off somehow. It flew through the air to where Peter was working with his back turned and hit him in the back of the head, just at the base of his skull. The doctor said that he died instantaneously, didn’t even know what hit him.”
“God, how awful.” I said.
“Henry never did get over it. And the vicious gossips in this town started making up stories, that Henry and Peter were more than just friends.”
“You mean gay?”
“They didn’t call it that back then. They just said they were ’involved’. Then, the story was that they’d had a fight and Henry had murdered Peter. The sheriff at the time tried to shut people up, said that he could think of a lot of easy and more convenient ways to kill somebody besides flinging an ax head across the yard and hope that it hit exactly in the right spot. The old biddies started looking at Henry funny and eventually, he just stopped going out of the house. You could have your groceries delivered back then and he didn’t need much else. He became a recluse.”
“You knew him, didn’t you?” I asked.
She looked at me for a few minutes before she spoke again.
“When I was a young girl, my mother introduced me to him. She checked on him regularly, just to see he was alright. I started coming by and doing some cleaning chores for him, now and again. He was a gentle soul who never overcame what happened. When Peter died, his life stopped, too.”
“Were they gay?” I asked.
“You don’t ask folks such a thing, especially your elders.” Ida said. “But, I think so. I think they really loved each other and that’s why Henry never got over it. I think it was a tragedy for both of them. I still hate to think of Henry alone in that house all of those years.”
“Are those the pictures on the walls, the two men?”
“That was them. Henry was the light haired one and Peter was dark. There’s still a photo album in the bottom of the sideboard that has pictures of them, too.”
“Maybe they’re together, now.” I said.
“The good Lord willing.” she replied. “Now, do you want to move?”
“I love the house more than ever, now.” I said. “And you took care of him, didn’t you, after he got old. I think you loved him, too. That’s why you took such good care of his house.”
Ida looked uncomfortable and she rose from the bench and said, “We all just do what we need to do. I don’t know about all of that other foolishness.”
She looked down at me and said, “Well, are you going to sit here all day?”
“I am going to sit awhile.” I said.
“Suit yourself; I’ve got work to do.”
She turned and left and I waved a moment later as her car cruised by.
I sat thinking about the story I’d heard and about the kindness of strangers. Sometimes, people are just good to each other because that’s the only way they know.
As I carried my vase and picture to my car, I suddenly had an inspiration, so after stowing them in the car trunk I went back to Betty’s shop.
When I entered, Betty was wrestling with a pile of clothing and she asked, “Back again so soon? Did I tempt you with an offer to sell you the whole lot?”
“I came back about the clock.” I said.
Betty immediately got a closed look on her face and asked, “Ida’s clock?”
“Yes, I want to buy it. Will you take a check?”
I could tell how hard the idea hit her.
“I can’t sell you Ida’s clock, it will break her heart. Can’t you buy another clock?”
“I’m buying it for Ida.” I told her. “When Tom comes to pick up my items, tell him that a mystery buyer left money and a note saying that the clock should go home with him to Ida. Tell him that they want her to have it.”
“She’ll never fall for that, she’ll know it was you.”
“Let me worry about that.” I said. “Now, do you want credit card, check or should I run to the bank and get cash?”
* * * * * *
Early that afternoon I was sitting outside again when an older model pickup pulled into the drive and backed its rear end up to the porch steps.
An older man dressed in worn jeans and a flannel shirt stepped out of the cab. It was obvious looking at him that he’d been quite a looker in his youth, he was still unusually handsome. He looked like he was pure muscle, not a bit of fat on him, the way older men who have always worked hard get.
“I’m Tom White.” he said; hand out to shake while appraising me.
“I’m glad to finally meet you.” I said. “I’ve wanted to thank you for the fantastic job you did on the painting.”
“It was easy.” he said. “And I knew that if I didn’t do it totally right the first time, Ida would make me do it over again until she was satisfied.” We both chuckled, envisioning her demanding it be done over.
“Your wife is a remarkable woman.” I said. “I wish I’d met her years ago.”
“They surely broke the mold.” he replied. “Now, I’ve got some deliveries for you.”
He let down the tailgate of the truck and I could see the sofa, the porch swing upended at one end and lying on the bed a huge coffin shaped package swaddled in enough packing blankets to survive an earthquake. I didn’t mention the package.
“I haven’t moved the other sofa.” I told him. “I don’t know what to do with it.”
“We’ll just carry it out and I’ll put it on the truck and store it in our shed, just in case you ever want it. I know it’s too good to throw away.”
“I can’t believe how kind everyone is around here.” I said and he gave me an odd, narrow eyed look.
He and I carried the old sofa out and carried the new one in. It honestly looked so much like the previous one that you’d never know the difference.
We unloaded the porch swing and Tom, looking up, said, “Good, the hooks are already there. I’ll bring some chain by and we’ll have this hanging in no time.”
I went down and helped load the old sofa onto the truck and when we’d completed that, Tom turned to me.
“I noticed that you haven’t asked about my other delivery.” he said.
“I didn’t think it was any of my business.” I replied.
“It’s the funniest thing.” he said, looking at me. “Ida has been pining after a clock in Betty’s store for donkey years and when I went to pick up your things, Betty gave me some story that a mystery person had left money and a note saying that the clock was to be delivered to Ida.”
“How lucky for her.” I said. “She deserves it and more.”
“If you realize that already, then you’re a pretty smart man.” Tom said.
He paused a moment and then said, “Ida isn’t used to fancy presents. If she suspects who the mystery buyer was, she may give him a good talking to.”
“I’m sure he’s been through worse and survived.” I replied.
Tom smiled and said, “Forewarned is forearmed. I wouldn’t be surprised if you have a visitor after supper.”
“I’ll make some iced tea.” I said.
“I’ll be back tomorrow so we can hang your swing.” he said and climbed into his truck. As he drove away he waved out of the window without looking back.
I spent the rest of the afternoon mooning around the house, hanging my dog picture and arranging dried weeds in my new vase on the mantel. I even found a pair of faded cretonne throw pillows in the upstairs linen closet of a blue shade close to the new vase that looked perfect on the sofa.
I ate a small dinner and made the iced tea, set out a tray and glasses and went out to sit on the porch steps and admire the view. About a half hour later, Ida’s car pulled into the drive.
She got out of the car and marched down the path, her mouth set in a straight line.
“I know you bought that clock, I’m no fool.” she said when she reached me.
“No one would ever mistake you for a fool.” I said.
“Well, I can’t accept it. It’s too grand. I just met you. You can’t do things like that.”
“I can if I want to and I wanted to.”
“I’m sending it back to you. Tom will bring it by.”
“And I’ll chop it into kindling wood if you do.” I told her. “Either you have that clock or no one ever will.”
I could tell by her outraged expression that she was shocked.
“You’ll do no such a thing.” she said.
“If that clock leaves your house, you just watch what happens.”
Her expression softened and she said, “I wouldn’t put it past you.”
“Then you are a very wise woman. Take a seat and I’ll bring you some iced tea to cool you down.”
I went in and got the tray and pitcher and set it on the step between us.
“Tom already had that clock in the house and running when I got home.” Ida said. “Of course, it’s in the wrong spot. I’ll make him move it when I get back. And I need to wax and polish it; Betty never did take decent care of it.”
“I’m sure it will be appreciated now.” I said. “I wanted to try to repay you for all of the care you’ve given this house. You’ll never know what it means to me to have found it. I feel like I owe it all to you. For the first time in a long time, I’m looking forward to waking up tomorrow.”
Ida sat musing for a moment and then she said, “You can tell this house had love in it, can’t you?”
“I never thought of that but it’s exactly right. The first time I stepped through the door I felt it.”
The two of us sat drinking our tea and watching the light fade over the ocean.
“I’ve sat here many an evening before you came.” Ida said. “Every time, I’d expect to see Peter and Henry walking on the sands, cutting up for each other.”
“Maybe they do and we just can’t see them.” I replied.
After another little while Ida said, “I’ve got to be getting home. Don’t surprise me again or I’ll lay a 2X4 across your skull. Tom will be by tomorrow to help you hang the swing; he’s got some of the gray trim paint left over so he’ll bring that, too. The swing will be easier to paint once its hanging.”
I remained sitting after she had gone. The light dwindled down until it was full dark. There was still enough light to make the sea almost glow, you could see it shining in the distance. For a few moments I fancied that I could see someone walking along the shore edge, a silhouette against the sea. I got up and went indoors.
That evening, I examined all of the photos hanging on the walls. Henry and Peter had both been handsome men and I checked each photo for some indication that they’d been gay. Of course, I didn’t find any.
Then I remembered what Ida had told me that morning about the photo album in the sideboard. I opened one of the doors and soon found it and carried it into the living room. There was a floor lamp at one end of the sofa and I turned it on and then switched on the radio to listen to the old music.
Sitting on the sofa in the circle of light, I began to look through the album. There was page after page of photos of the two of them, separately and together. They looked so happy.
Each page made me sadder than the last, knowing how the story ended. I went through the album once and then started through the pages again. This time, I started to feel better. Even if it had all ended so badly, it was obvious that they’d been happy together. It was also obvious, at least to me, that they had been in love. I was glad that they’d at least had that much time together.
By the time I’d finished my second look, it was time for bed. I got up and put the album away and then I stood in front of the photo on the wall that showed both men. Peter had died so young and Henry had wasted away for all of his years after. The unfairness made me want to scream and jump up and down, beat on the walls and break windows. Instead, I climbed the stairs and climbed into bed.
I had left the window open a crack and the sound of the sea and the fresh air lulled me as I lay there. I fell to sleep almost at once.
Some time later, I awoke. It was still night and the full moon was shining into my window, the cold light stretched across the floor almost to my bed. I lay looking at it until I became aware of a shape in the corner. There was an old upholstered chair there that I had put my clothing on before going to bed. Now, with the moonlight glaring into the room, the corner appeared almost pitch black but there was enough reflected light to almost make out the shape of a figure sitting there. I should have been frightened but for some reason I wasn’t. I lay waiting for the figure to move but it never did and when I finally switched on the bedside lamp, there was nothing but an empty chair.
The next morning as soon as I opened my eyes, my thoughts returned to Peter and Henry. I had had some dream about the two of them but I couldn’t remember it now, only flashes from the whole.
After showering and dressing I went downstairs to have breakfast. I was just going into the kitchen by the hall door when for some reason I glanced behind me. Silhouetted against the light of the front door was the shape of a man. I glanced into the kitchen to make sure there was no one in there and when I turned back, the figure was gone. I walked into the kitchen and back out through the dining room door, then into the living room. There was no one anywhere in the house.
Soon after breakfast I heard Tom’s truck outside. He was already on the porch and fooling with the swing and chains by the time I got out there. It was a simple matter to cut the chains to the right length and with a ladder he’d brought we soon had the swing suspended from the porch. We both sat down to try it out.
“Have you ever seen a ghost?” I asked Tom.
“Sure, when I was in the Navy. Every time I drank too much rum, I saw all sorts of things. Don’t tell me you’re already getting squirrely out here by yourself.”
“No, I was just thinking about a comment Ida made last night about expecting to see someone who isn’t there.”
“Don’t you ever tell Ida I said so but only crazy people see ghosts.”
“At least I’ll be able to tell when I go off the edge, then.” I said.
Tom left me with the swing and a can of paint. I preferred to just sit and watch the ocean from my new swing.
My phone rang and I saw that it was my real estate agent in the city. She’d had an offer, she said, and wanted to give a counter offer. We agreed on a figure and it seemed like I had just hung up when she called right back and said the buyers had accepted our offer. I had signed all of the necessary paperwork before I left town, all that was left was for the buyers to sign. The money, she told me, would be in my account in a matter of days. When she hung up I realized that for better or worse, I lived only here now.
While it was on my mind I phoned the auction house. Everything in the apartment had been picked up and the condo had been thoroughly cleaned. They were working on a catalogue that would include my items and wanted to know if I would come to the presale viewing or the auction itself. I told them I wasn’t able to attend.
My entire past life had disappeared. It felt as if I had finally exhaled. I went down and walked along the beach, observing the waves and the squawking birds. Finally, I took off my shoes, rolled up my trousers and stomped around at the edge of the surf for awhile. I felt totally free.
When I tired of splashing I sat on the sand and watched the light play over the waves. It was a cloudy day but still beautiful. Every shade of gray imaginable was in the sky, the sea and the sand.
Starting to feel a little chilly, I picked up my shoes and headed for home. When I came in sight of the house, I saw someone sitting on the swing, lazily rocking back and forth. I wasn’t expecting anyone but I wasn’t alarmed. It was probably someone selling something or a Mormon.
I had gotten almost abreast of the house when I dropped a shoe and bent to pick it up. When I looked back at the porch, the figure was gone. The swing still swung slightly back and forth but no one was in sight. It would have been impossible for anyone to disappear so completely in such a short time.
* * * * * *
As was now my habit, I spent that evening looking at the old photo album while listening to the nostalgia station on the radio. I slept well though I kept having dreams of Peter and Henry.
The next morning when I went downstairs to eat breakfast, the figure of a man was once again standing at the front door.
I walked up to the figure. Even though my footsteps were audible on the wood floor, he didn’t turn or move. It was as if he wasn’t even aware of me.
When I was close enough, I leaned forward to see his face. He looked exactly like the photos of Peter that I had been spending so much time looking at. That was when I decided that I was having some sort of mental breakdown.
I spun around and walked down the hall to the kitchen and made myself a bowl of cornflakes. I had eaten half of the bowl before I even realized that I’d forgotten to add any sugar.
After finishing my breakfast, I walked back out into the hallway. The figure was gone.
I walked up to the front door and as I did so, I passed the door into the front living room. The figure was now sitting in one of the upholstered armchairs, hands resting on his knees and staring straight ahead, not even blinking.
I picked up my car keys and went outside. On the drive to Ida’s place, I tried to think of how I was going to say what I had to tell her. By the time I’d arrived, I still had no clue.
Ida came out onto her porch when she heard my car in the drive and watched me as I walked toward her.
“If I have to go away for awhile, will you take care of the house?” I asked her.
“Going back to the city?” she said.
“No, I think I may have to spend some time at a hospital or something. I’m having a mental breakdown.”
“Oh, foot!” Ida replied. “You’re no crazier than most of the people in this town and a lot more sane than some of them. Get in here and tell me what’s going on over a cup of coffee.”
I followed her inside and allowed her to lead me to the kitchen. Tom was still sitting at the table, finishing his morning coffee and he nodded as I sat down. Ida brought a mug of coffee for me and her and then sat down across from me.
“Okay, spill it.” she said.
“I’ve been seeing things.” I told her. “It started out small, just little flashes of things. Then, I started thinking I saw people on the beach or around the house. I was already starting to worry, and then this morning when I came downstairs, I swear to god that Peter was standing in the hallway.”
Ida looked at Tom, then back at me.
“What did you do?” she asked.
“I just went up to him and when I saw who it was, I had some cornflakes.”
“That doesn’t sound too scary.” Tom said as he laughed.
“It wasn’t scary. It wasn’t like you read in ghost stories. He just stood there and then when I came back out of the kitchen; he was sitting in the living room.”
“Did you talk to him?” Ida asked.
“No, he didn’t look like he even knew I was there.”
“My grandma used to claim to see spirits.” Ida told me. “She always said that if you ask them what they want or what they need, they’ll tell you.”
“It sounds like your grandma was the one who needed a trip to the loony bin.” Tom said.
Ida gave him a look that could have frozen Old Faithful, and then turned back to me.
“I never saw anything in all the years I took care of your place.” she said. “I never seemed to have the gift. But, I always felt like there was someone there, just in another room or behind a door.”
“Maybe you two can get adjoining rooms at the crazy house.” Tom said.
Ida rose and grabbed Tom’s ear and hauled him upright, then pulled him over to the back door.
“If you’re not out of here and on your way to work in 5 seconds, you’re going to lose a lot more than an ear.” she told him.
“Yes, ma’am.” Tom said. “I don’t want to take a chance on disappointing my next wife.”
“Like any woman would be crazy enough to have you besides me.” she said as she opened the door and pushed him outdoors. When she shut the door, he stood outside and made kissy faces at her until she closed the curtains.
Sitting back down at the table, Ida asked, “When’s the last time you saw a doctor?”
“A couple of months ago. He said that I’m in perfect health.”
“Well, then.”
“He didn’t examine my brain.”
“What you need to do is go home and confront your fear. If you think Peter is still sitting in your living room, sit down by him and ask him what he wants. You know as well as I do that there’s nothing evil or hateful that could exist in that house.”
“Except me, if I’m losing my mind.” I said.
“And that’s not happening. Go on, I need to get to work anyway. You go on home and calm yourself. I’ll send my nephew by later this afternoon to check on you and make sure that all of your locks are working, how does that sound?”
“Tell him not to come in if I’m swinging on the chandelier and making noises like an ape.” I said.
Ida herded me back out to my car and stood waving as I drove away. I wasn’t looking forward to going home. I drove into town and bought a few groceries, went to the bank and the post office and killed as much time as I could but eventually I found myself driving to the house.
When I pulled into my parking spot, the house looked the same as always. Mid-morning sun lit up the porch and made the windows sparkle. It was a house where nothing fearful could exist.
I opened the front door and peered inside. Everything looked the same as usual. I entered and began walking down the hall toward the kitchen. As I did so, I glanced into the living room.
The figure I’d seen earlier was still sitting in the same chair in the same position. He still stared blankly ahead. He almost looked like a movie frozen on the screen, a projection more than an actual shape.
I took my purchases into the kitchen and put them away, then made a pot of coffee. When it had finished brewing, I poured myself a mug full and walked back up the hall to the living room. The figure in the plush chair sat perfectly still, seemingly oblivious to me. I waved my hand in front of his eyes but he never blinked. I sat down on the sofa across from him and examined him. It was definitely Peter.
He was wearing the same dark suit that he’d worn in the photo of himself and Henry together. He even had on the same tie that he wore in the photo.
I sat watching him for a few minutes, building my nerve and then finally I said, “Peter, what are you doing here? What do you want?”
I don’t know how to describe what happened next except to say that Peter seemed to gain substance. A wave passed over him, bringing him into sharper focus somehow, making him more tangible.
His head turned so that his eyes looked into mine and I thought I might pass out.
“Oh, that’s much better.” he said. “I couldn’t speak unless you spoke to me first. Some rule or something.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Is that a new sofa?” he asked.
“A different sofa, new to the house.” I said.
“Henry liked the other one. I can’t really see that much difference.”
He looked around the room and said, “You’ve kept everything the same.”
“I like it this way.” I said. “There was nothing I wanted to change.”
“Well, that’s lucky for me.” Peter replied. “If you had come in and cleared the place out and brought in all new stuff, I wouldn’t be able to sit. I’d be walking through your furniture. Same with doorways. People block up the old doorways, then they get all upset when someone like me walks through the wall where it used to be.”
“What’s it like?” I asked.
“Walking through walls? I don’t really know, I’ve never done it. But, I’m sure that I wouldn’t notice. I’d still see the old doorway rather than the wall. In my situation, I can only see things as they were before. I mean, I can see new things but I can’t retain them. It’s like my brain got stuck on that last day and I can’t absorb new information, only what was already there. Understand?”
“I think so.” I said. “That must be sort of comforting.”
I tried to restrain myself but finally I blurted, “Am I hallucinating you?”
“I don’t think so.” he said. “Maybe I’m hallucinating you. Things have gotten pretty confusing.”
He stopped and looked down at himself.
“I’ve always hated this suit.” he said. “It never was comfortable. And these shoes, they always pinched, that’s why I never wore them when I was alive. Then they buried me in them. It would have made so much more sense to put me in a nice pair of pajamas.”
The unreality of the situation was too much for me to ignore.
“I can’t believe I’m sitting in my own living room believing that I’m talking to someone who died before I was born.”
“Technically, it’s my living room and as for the rest, it’s your own fault.”
I was speechless and I just looked at him.
“It is, you know. You’re the one who kept thinking about me and mooning over the photos. You called me back, so deal with it.”
“That was never my intention.” I said.
“Yeah, well, tough titty. Could you do me a favor?”
“I suppose.” I said.
“Go in the other room and look at the album. Especially those photos of Henry and myself on the beach. Then come back.” He grinned and added, “Don’t worry, I’ll still be here.”
I got up and walked across the hall and got the album out of the sideboard. I turned to the photos he’d mentioned and pored over them but they were just the same as always, I didn’t see anything new or anything different.
I closed the album and went back across the hall. Peter was sitting in the same spot except now he was dressed in the clothing he’d worn for the photos on the beach.
“This is a much more pleasant outfit.” he said. “I had to change your thoughts of me to get out of those clothes.”
I picked up my mug and took a swallow and Peter then said, “Is that coffee?”
I nodded and he continued, “I haven’t had a cup of coffee since the morning of the day I died. Let me taste it.”
I handed him the mug, afraid that it would go right through his hand but he grasped the handle and sipped from the cup.
“I’d forgotten how good that tastes.” he said. “I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to taste it.”
He set the mug down and said, “When I was alive, it was the custom to offer guests refreshments. People always go on about how they want to see a ghost, and then when they do they never even think to ask them if they’d like a cup of coffee.”
“You’re not exactly the standard guest, now are you?” I asked. “Besides, I’m having a hard enough time processing all of this without worrying about minding my manners. How am I to know what you can or can‘t do?”
“Basically, I can do whatever you anticipate. Your belief of what I can do dictates my ability. Do you have any cookies?”
“I certainly didn’t anticipate serving lunch to a dead person today, I can tell you that.”
“I like my coffee black.” Peter said and then sat looking at me expectantly.
I went back to the kitchen. There was a tray that I’d noticed on one of the cupboard shelves, I got it down and wiped it and then placed a mug and a plate on it. I filled the mug and had just filled the plate with cookies when someone knocked at the front door.
I picked up the tray and proceeded down the hallway. In the front room. Peter was nowhere to be seen. He’d simply vanished.
Balancing the tray on one hand, I opened the door.
On the porch stood a young man. I was struck dumb, he was so handsome. He resembled a young Hugh Jackman with curly hair. He had twinkling blue eyes with fine lines radiating from the ends. You could see that his beard was a problem, even this early in the day he’d already developed 5 o’clock shadow. With wide shoulders and a small waist, his body resembled Hugh Jackman’s, too.
He opened the screen door and took the tray from my hand.
“How nice.” he said. “How did you know I hadn’t eaten any lunch?”
He carried the tray over to the porch swing, set it on the porch floor and his bottom on the swing, and then picked up the mug and a couple of cookies.
“Was I expecting you?” I asked, stepping outside.
“My Auntie Ida said you were. I’m the local handyman. No job too big or too small. She sent me over to check your locks and such; she said you’re nervous about being out here all alone.”
“I’d totally forgotten.” I replied.
He was looking me over with a slight smile while I twisted in the wind. I was still tongue tied gazing at him. He seemed to know the effect he was having.
He patted the swing seat and said, “Why don’t you sit down here beside me and tell me what you’d like me to do?” He said it so innocently but with such a smirking grin, I was sure that he was playing with me.
“I’d have to think about it.” I said as I sat down. “What are you good at?”
He gave me an appraising cool stare and replied, “I guess I’m sort of a jack-of-all-trades. I like to think I can fill any need that arises and I always make sure that I do an excellent job.”
He sat staring at me with a self satisfied smile and I suddenly remembered Casey. I hadn’t flirted with anyone since our early days and I felt like I was betraying him.
I stood up and said, “I’ll be inside if you want to finish your coffee and cookies. Just come in whenever you’re ready.” I went to the door and slipped inside while he watched me with a confused look.
I walked through each of the downstairs room but Peter was still nowhere to be seen. Now, I really was questioning my sanity. Back in the front room, I picked up my mug and drained it of the remaining cold coffee.
I heard the screen door open so I went into the hallway just as he stepped inside.
“My name is Gene, by the way.” he said, extending his hand to shake.
“Ed.” I replied. “Ed Bunce.”
He looked around and said, “My aunt said that you hadn’t changed anything here. This place looks like a trip back in time.”
I glanced around, seeing the house as he must be seeing it.
“Maybe I’m trying to make time stand still.” I said.
“Well, that’ll never do. A good looking man like you ought to be out ripping and roaring and grabbing life by the balls.”
I had to laugh. “It’s been a long time since I was even tempted.” I said.
He gave me one of those long cool stares again, and then began to move around the house. After entering the living room, he stood in front of the photos of Peter and Henry on the wall.
“And who are these handsome men?” he asked.
“They’re the previous owners. I kept the photos where they’ve always been, I couldn’t bear to take them down.”
He gave me that stare again and asked, “You like looking at handsome men, then?”
I was suddenly so tired that I felt like I might collapse. Playing cat and mouse with a conceited asshole was too much to put up with.
“Look,” I said, “I’m really not up to this today. Can you come back some other time; I need to lay down for awhile.”
I was shooing him toward the door the way one would a flock of chickens and when we reached the door, I reached around him and opened it.
“I’ll let your aunt know a good time for you to come by again.” I said, closing the screen door and then the interior one. Gene stood for a few moments looking at the closed door before finally turning and walking away.
I stood in the hallway until I heard his truck start up and then pull away before going back into the living room. Peter was once again sitting in the plush armchair.
“Who was that?” he asked.
“Ida’s nephew.” I replied, distracted.
“He’s a real looker, isn’t he?” Peter said. “I like Ida. She used to come and spend time here and think about me and Henry. She never did it enough that she made me show up; I used to just be in the same room with her and watch her. She’s a nice lady. Her nephew drank my coffee and ate my cookies, though.”
“I can get you more.” I said.
I opened the door and went out to retrieve the tray from the porch. When I did, I saw Gene’s truck parked a bit down the road and watched him pull away.
After pouring more coffee and adding more cookies, I carried the tray into the front room and set it down in front of Peter. He picked up the coffee and took a long drink, then nibbled on a cookie while I sat watching.
Finally he said, “What? Why are you staring at me?”
“If you are a figment of my imagination, I don’t suppose you’d be having cookies and coffee.” I said.
“Maybe I’m not really having them.” he said. “In which case, there’s going to be a terrible stain on this chair.”
I sat across from him, trying not to stare, and something occurred to me.
“Where do you go, when you’re not here?” I asked.
“I couldn’t really say. It’s sort of like going to sleep, I’m not aware of anything until I get called back.”
“Is Henry here, too?”
“No, no way. He went on when he died. He’s somewhere else.”
“Then why are you still here?”
“Probably because I’m an idiot.” he said, looking upset. “When you die, something happens and you leave. I wasn’t even aware that I’d died. I was so busy stacking wood; I was oblivious to everything around me. It finally dawned on me that I’d been stacking the same logs over and over forever and none of them seemed to have even been lifted. When I turned around, the sheriff was already there and Henry was crying his eyes out. I saw myself lying on the ground, surrounded by blood and I guessed what had happened. Apparently, I missed my big chance to go elsewhere.”
“That’s terrible.” I said. “Don’t you get a second chance?”
“I haven’t so far. I’ve got nobody to blame but myself. Watching Henry grow old and sad and weak should be enough punishment, if that’s what I’m getting. He wasted the rest of his life because he felt so guilty.”
“Did he ever see you, afterward I mean?”
“He was too frightened. He couldn’t bear to consciously think of me and when he would do so by accident, he always tried to think of something else. He was afraid that I was mad at him and I’d appear as some evil spirit or something. Sometimes, he couldn’t resist, though, so I got to visit him once in awhile.”
He seemed to look at me more intently.
“Henry was a very loving man.” he said. “I hate to think that he wasted his life over something neither of us could control. I wanted him to be happy, not locked away from the world in this house.”
He stared at me for a few moments more and then said, “You remind me of Henry.”
That was a bit much.
“Oh, wonderful.” I said. “Now I’m getting advice-to-the-lovelorn from a figment of my imagination. For a ghost, you’re really annoying.”
I got up from my chair and walked out into the hallway.
“I’m going for a drive.” I said. “Try to dematerialize while I’m gone.”
Once on the road, I had an idea. I drove into town and parked in front of the library. Thankfully, they were open.
I explained to the librarian that I was looking for books on the paranormal, specifically ghosts. She gave me an odd look but showed me how to use the computer card catalogue. They didn’t have an extensive collection but I found some books that I thought might be helpful in dealing with my situation. After applying for and receiving my library card, I had to make two trips to the car to load every thing up. On my second trip in, the librarian said, “There are also several websites dealing with your interest. We have terminals that you can use for free, so keep that in mind.”
I thanked her and left. I didn’t feel like going home so I stopped in Betty’s Bargain Barn.
“How do you like your sofa?” she asked as soon as she saw it was me.
“I love it. I love everything I bought from you. May I look around some more?”
“Let me know if there’s anything that interests you.” she replied.
I wandered through the maze of the shop and I spotted several items that looked worth further investigation. In the back of the shop, though, the wall was covered with shelves of books. I skimmed through the titles and found three volumes of ghost stories.
I carried them to the front of the store to pay for them and when Betty saw what they were, she actually shivered.
“You wouldn’t catch me out there all alone in that house and reading ghost stories of a night.” she said.
“So you believe in ghosts?”
“I’ve heard stories, made my blood run cold. I’d be afraid I’d look up some night and see that fellow who died staring in the window at me, his head awash with blood.”
“Ida sent her nephew over to check my door and window locks, she must fear the same thing.” I told Betty.
Her expression changed to almost a smug look.
“So Gene was out there already, huh? I wondered how long that would take. He’s used to being the best looking man in town so I’m sure he doesn’t like the competition.”
“Competition from whom?” I asked.
Then, it dawned on me what she meant and I burst out laughing.
“Surely you don’t mean from me.” I said. “Little children don’t run out of the room screaming when they see me, but I’m hardly in his league for looks.”
“The first few days after you came to town, the gossip was that you were some famous actor hiding out here. Don’t sell yourself short.” she said.
“Betty, I’m just your basic Georgia white trash. Up until I inherited money, I didn’t have two pennies of my own to rub together. Next time you hear someone say something like that about me, tell them they need to raise their standards.”
That conversation kept me giggling all of the way back to the house. I carried all of my books inside and then stopped to look at myself in the hall mirror. I looked the same as always, maybe a little more worn. I wasn’t ever going to win any beauty prizes, in my opinion.
“Staring at yourself in the mirror is a sign of vanity.” someone said.
I looked over to see Peter standing in the living room doorway.
“Aren’t you supposed to moan or rattle chains or something to announce yourself?” I asked.
“You have to pay extra for that, I’m the new economy model ghost.”
“And I want a refund.” I said.
He turned and I followed him into the room where he took his usual seat in the armchair. I sat down on the sofa and said, “Can I ask you something?”
“Ask away.”
“When you’re not here, where do you go?”
“Nowhere, really. It’s sort of like being asleep. Sometimes I have a sort of dream when I’m being thought of, it can wake me up a bit, but most of the time there’s just nothing. It’s like ‘Brigadoon’.”
He suddenly became more animated.
“I saw that on Broadway.” he said. “Have you ever heard of it?”
“I saw the movie. Gene Kelly and Van Johnson.”
“I would have liked to have seen the movie.” he said. “Van Johnson is queer, you know.”
“I’ve heard. Do you only wake up and appear if people are thinking of you? Is that the trigger?”
“Let’s not talk about that. Do they still give plays on Broadway?”
“Yes…” I said. Before I could say more, he cut me off.
“The last Broadway play I saw was ‘A Streetcar Named Desire”. Henry and I went to it. There was an actor in it named Marlon Brando, we both thought he was really hot stuff. Did he do anything else?”
“He went to Hollywood and became a big star. But let me ask you…”
He cut me off again. “We had friends who went to see that play every night for a month.” he said, smiling. “Marlon Brando knew the boys were all in love with him. On nights when he thought there might be a lot of queer boys in the audience, he’d come out on stage with no underwear on under his costumes. You could see his big fat dick bouncing around all the way from the balcony. The leading lady finally complained to the director and said she’d walk out unless they started making him wear jockey shorts. It gave you a certain cachet in the city if you could say that you were at one of his “unfettered” performances.”
“That’s very interesting, Peter, but I want to ask you about something. If you aren’t really around unless someone is thinking of you, consciously or unconsciously, what happens if there is no one. What if this house burns down and all of the pictures are destroyed? What if Ida and I both die? If there’s no one left to remember you, do you just disappear?”
“I guess that’s how it works, I don’t know.” He looked uncomfortable.
“But that hardly seems fair. Don’t you want to see Henry again? Doesn’t he deserve to see you again?”
“I told you I don’t want to talk about this.” he said in a loud voice, then jumped up and walked out into the hallway. When I followed him, he wasn’t there and when I made a circuit of the first floor, he’d vanished.
It somehow seemed appropriate that I’d have to get a temperamental ghost.
The rest of the afternoon I waited but he didn’t make an appearance. I ate a light supper and then decided to tackle the books I’d brought home. Sitting on the sofa in the circle of lamplight with the music on the radio, I never gave Peter another thought.
The books were little or no help. It seems that there is very little legitimate research on ghosts, mostly just folklore. Studying the books did start a train of thought, though. There had to be some way, I told myself, that I could reunite Peter and Henry. I just didn’t know how.
It wasn’t until someone knocked on the front door that I looked up and saw that it was 10PM.
Ida was the only one I could think who might be calling this late but when I switched on the porch light, Gene stood outside. He raised a wine bottle in one hand and two stemmed glasses in the other.
I opened the door a crack and said, “What do you want?”
“Can I come in?” he asked. “I brought some really good wine.”
I looked at him in the lamplight for a moment before swinging the door open.
“Come in.” I said. “Only because I’m dying for a glass of wine.”
He grinned and stepped inside and then followed me into the living room. I moved some of the books off of the sofa and we both sat down. He had a corkscrew on his keychain and he opened the wine and poured us each a glass.
“I don’t know what kind of snacks I have.” I said. “Maybe some cheese?”
“Let’s just enjoy the wine.” he replied.
“I haven’t eaten much today. It may go to my head.”
“I’ll be right here in case you decide to do anything silly.” he said, grinning.
I set the wine glass down and said, “Are you always this obnoxious?”
“Only when I’m nervous.” he replied. “Actually, I came over to apologize for earlier today. When I see something I want that I’m not sure I can have, I tend to over do it.”
I looked at his hand and I could see a fading groove where a ring had been on his ring finger.
“Does your wife know that you’re here?” I asked.
‘No, I’m divorced. Almost two months now.”
“I’m sorry.” I said.
“I’m not. Neither is she. The whole thing was a big mistake and when I finally admitted that to myself, we were both a lot happier. I still love her in a way but she’s not what I need.”
I took a sip of wine, wondering where this conversation was leading.
“This is a really nice room.” Gene said, looking around. “It feels calm and homey. And you can hear the ocean outside.”
“The two fellows who lived here, they must have been a lot like me. I’ve never felt so at home anywhere.”
“I think they must have been a lot like me, too.” he said, gazing at me.
I was debating telling him it was my bedtime so he’d need to leave when he picked up one of the library books.
“What’s all of this?” he asked. “Are you taking a class?”
“I was just reading up on something.” I said. I was beginning to feel the effects of the wine, making me feel warm and loose limbed.
He picked the books up from one of the stacks and looked at the title of each in turn.
“Ghosts, ghosts, ghosts.” he said. “Are you planning on holding a séance?”
Could I summon up Henry and have him take Peter with him when he left, I wondered?
“Just a sudden interest.” I said. “Why are you here?”
“So much for subtlety.” he said. “I’m here because I’m lonely and as soon as I saw you this morning, I knew I wanted to get to know you better. Much, much better, if possible.”
“I’m not exactly interested in becoming another notch on the belt of a small town Lothario.” I said.
“Maybe you should stick to local conquests.”
His face flushed and I could see that he was angry.
“I don’t have any notches.” he said. “I never cheated on my wife, even when I was tempted. I had a few experiences before I was married but that’s it. Maybe I should be worried about being the conquest of a big city asshole instead.”
He turned away to look in the opposite direction and finally I said, “I apologize. Up until just a while ago, I was in a relationship, a long, long relationship. I’m not used to playing these games any more.”
“Then let’s not play games.” he said. “What happened? Divorce?”
“He died.” I replied. “After a long and horrible illness. I’m still not coping very well.”
His face softened and he said, “I really am sorry. You were together a long time?”
“Just over twenty years.” I said. “He had a genetic disease and it got progressively worse.” The wine had loosened my tongue and I could feel tears behind my eyes. “I’d better not talk about this anymore.”
“That must have been really tough.” he said. “And a really horrible experience. That’s why you came here.”
“I needed someplace different, someplace that didn’t have any memories. And, I wanted to be near the sea. It feels like it could protect you if you needed it.”
He smiled and said, “Most people are afraid of the sea. They’d be afraid of living in this spooky house, too.”
“I guess I’m not like most people, then. I felt at home here as soon as I walked through the front door.”
He slid his hand over the cushions and grasped mine.
“You certainly aren’t like anyone else as far as I’m concerned.” he said.
“Are you being romantic now?” I asked.
“I’d like to be. I’d like to be very romantic.” He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my palm. I hadn’t been kissed in a very long time and I could feel heat course through my body.
“Plying me with wine so that you can take advantage of me?” I asked.
“If that’s what it takes.” he said. “But I’d really rather we take advantage of each other.”
He forcefully pulled me over to his side of the sofa, reclining so that I was on top of him. When he started to kiss me, I didn’t resist. I hadn’t been kissed like that since I was teenager. His tongue probed my mouth and because of the wine and because it was him, I couldn’t help but respond. Our bodies fit together perfectly and I simply abandoned myself to the process.
Lying on top of him with his tongue in my mouth, my cock was hard as iron and I could feel his dick rubbing against mine. Then, suddenly, Casey came to mind and I struggled to stand up.
“This is a bad idea.” I said and started to walk toward the hallway.
He leapt up behind me and wrapped his arms around my torso, holding me against him. I could feel his stiff cock against my ass.
“I think it’s a great idea.” he said into my ear. “I think it’s the best idea I’ve heard of in years.”
I couldn’t help but lay back against his body.
“I’m really fucked up.” I said. “I think I’m losing my mind.”
“Have you had the urge to stab anybody or choke them to death?” he asked.
I laughed and said, “No, nothing like that.”
“Then I’ll take my chances.” he said. “Why don’t you invite me to spend the night?”
“It’s been a long time, I can’t guarantee anything.”
“Why don’t you let me worry about that?” he replied.
It was hard climbing the steps. He was entwined around my body and didn’t want to let go. Every few steps he’d stop to kiss me kiss my neck; run his hands over my body. It’s a wonder we made it upstairs at all.
I directed our bodies into my room where Gene turned me around while standing in the middle of the floor. He started kissing me again, his passion undiminished, and our stiff cocks ground against each other. We must have stood that way for 15 minutes, our mouths glued together and each of us cupping the cheeks of the other’s ass.
He broke our oral connection so that he could pull my tee shirt over my head, and then arched his head back to look at me.
“I knew you were in good shape but I didn’t think like this.” he said as he stroked my hard chest and tight stomach.
“I haven’t been to the gym in at least 6 months.” I replied.
“Then I can’t wait to see you when you get back into the habit.” he said.
He lowered his head so that he could lick each of my hard nipples, and then nibbled at them, causing my cock to lurch against him.
He pulled me over to the edge of the bed and sat down in front of me. I didn’t resist as he unbuckled my belt and eased my zipper down, then lowered my trousers to the floor. My tight jockey shorts were straining to hold my cock in and when he put his thumbs into each side of the waist band and pulled them down, my stiff cock flopped out and stood straight up.
Gene wrapped his hand around my cock shaft and said, “Well, hello to you too, big boy. Very glad to make your acquaintance.” He cupped my ball sack in his other hand while he stroked my cock.
“Your turn to get undressed.” I told him and pulled him to his feet.
I unbuttoned his soft chambray shirt until it hung open. His muscular chest was covered in a mat of dark hair that reached from his collar bones to his belt. I stroked the warm fur and he almost purred with pleasure. His hard pecs each had a stiff pointed nipple and when I lightly pinched one, his hips pressed hard against mine.
I sat down where he had been and began to unbuckle his belt. When I looked up at him, his eyes were closed and his face was pointed at the ceiling. I slowly unbuttoned his pants waist, and then very slowly lowered his zipper so that he could feel my hand moving over his hard crotch. When I lowered his pants, he wasn’t wearing any underwear. His fat cock was at least as long as mine, maybe even longer. His hairy ball sack held a pair of large orbs that I couldn’t resist lifting in my hand to feel their weight. The entire front of his body was covered in that rug of hair from his neck to his balls and I snuggled my face into his pubes, his stiff dick against the side of my face. He smelled delicious, a combination of male musk and soap.
He reached down and hauled me to my feet, hands beneath my armpits and began to kiss me again. His ass cheeks in my hands felt even better now that they were bare and I let one finger slide into his hairy ass crack and explore. His hands, meanwhile, were both deep in the valley of my ass, spreading my cheeks open.
He pushed me back so that I fell onto the bed with him on top of me. He kissed me even deeper, his hands roaming over my body. When I grasped the hot shaft of his dick in my hand, he rolled me over on the bed so that I was now on top. With my other hand I cupped the back of his head so that I could devour his mouth like I was eating a peach. He lay totally submissive beneath me until I began to kiss and lick his neck, then he turned us over again so that he could pin me down. Holding my stiff cock in a tight grasp, he began to explore my ear with his tongue, causing me to buck under him and cause the bedsprings to squeal.
“Weak in the ear.” he whispered. “I’ll certainly remember that.”
I brought my hands up to his chest and stroked the hair until I located his stiff nipples, then tweaked each one with my finger tips. His hips arched against mine, causing the whole bed to bounce.
“Hot wired nipples.” I whispered back. “Now I know your weak spot, too.”
“Can I suck your dick?” he asked.
“Only if I can suck yours back.”
We disengaged our arms from around each other and he swung his body around so that we were laying head to toe on our sides. His big stiff dick was in front of my face, his heavy balls hanging off to the side and almost reaching the mattress. I could feel the heat radiating off of him on my face.
I gasped when I felt his warm mouth close around my cock head. It had been a very long time since I’d felt that. His lips slid down my shaft until I could feel the satiny back of his throat running against my dick head.
I stuck out my tongue and as I held his burning cock shaft in my hand, I began to lick the clear juice that was running out of his piss slit. He moaned and thrust his hips forward. My tongue played over the wide head, tracing patterns on his flesh. He kept up a low crooning moan. When I closed my mouth around the plum shaped head, his whole body jumped. It felt as if his cock had been specially made to fill my mouth.
His cock had a salty flavor mixed with a taste that reminded me of apricots.
I rolled him over so that my knees were on either side of his head and I was hovering above him.
Gripping the big stiff cock by the base, I began to bob my head up and down on it, forcing as much meat as possible down my throat. At the same time, I began to fuck his mouth, using my hips to slide my cock in and out. He grasped my ass cheeks and encouraged me to go deeper. My balls were resting on his face and he used one of his fingers to stroke my ass hole, visible to him between my wide spread cheeks.
I rolled over again, this time so that he was on top. He began to slide his mouth up and down on my cock and fucked my mouth as I’d done his. I popped his cock out of my throat so that I could take one of his big balls in my mouth. I ran my tongue over it and pulled it tight in the sack. When I let it pop out from between my lips, he jumped with pleasure. Holding his stiff cock and stroking it, I sucked and tongued his other round nut. I could see his tightly puckered ass hole, pulsing with pleasure and after I released the second ball, I began to lick his taint.
He rocked his body on top of me, taking my cock far down his throat. When my tongue lapped his hot hole, he almost levitated off of the bed. I used my tongue to lick the tiny hole like an ice cream cone and he soon started his moan again. When I stiffened my tongue and speared it into his pucker, he released my cock from his mouth so that he could let out a throat deep groan. I pulled his hips back so that he was sitting astride my face and my tongue fucked his ass like a prick. He rode up and down, moaning the whole time.
After a time, he leaned forward and sucked my dripping cock back into his throat. I grabbed his steely dick and swallowed it almost to the root. We were both close to cumming, his balls tightly clutched against his body, mine being manhandled while my cock was serviced.
We came at exactly the same moment. I arched my body up to feed him my dick while pulling his hips down to force more of his cock into my throat. He released such a flood of hot juice that I had trouble swallowing fast enough. At the same time, the long pent up load of cum that burst out of my balls had me seeing stars.
The two of us curled together, nursing each other’s shrinking cock. I wanted every drop of him and apparently he felt the same way about me. I didn’t take my mouth off of him until he was entirely soft.
He sat up and said, “Come ‘ere, you!” while grabbing my arm and pulling me up next to him.
Lying face to face, he first kissed me. I could taste my cum on his tongue.
“I thought I knew what it was like to be with a man but no one ever gave me an orgasm like that before.” he said.
“Just one of our friendly services.” I replied.
His hands began roaming over my body again, massaging and squeezing until they came to rest once more cupping my ass cheeks.
“I want you to fuck me.” he said.
“I want you to fuck me, too.” I replied.
“But I’m not prepared.”
“And neither am I, I wasn’t expecting any of this.” I said while laughing.
“I guess we’ll have to put it off until next time.” Gene said.
“So, you’re already planning a next time?” I asked.
He got a serious look, almost pissed off.
“I don’t do hook ups.” he said. “Did I misjudge the situation?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know what the situation is. I told you, I’m fucked up.” I said.
“Then we’ll just have to explore the situation together.” he said. “Right now, I need to get some sleep. I have to work tomorrow.”
The thought that had been niggling at me all evening came again. Was Peter somewhere nearby, watching what went on?
I fell asleep snuggled up to Gene’s hairy chest, inhaling his aroma. Several times in the night, we awoke to kiss each other, to caress each other’s cock or to just pull each other close. Even so, it was the most restful night I’d had in years.
When I awoke it was dawn and Gene was fully dressed, standing beside the bed.
“I made coffee.” he said. “You need to get better breakfast food, too.”
He leaned down and gave me a deep kiss that made my cock stand up and take notice.
He grasped my stiff dick through the sheet and said, “That will have to wait. I like the idea of leaving you wanting me, anyway.”
Hew turned and left, first down the stairs, then out the door and then I heard his engine as he drove away. I curled up and went back to sleep.
I didn’t wake again until nine o’clock. After showering, I walked downstairs craving coffee.
In the kitchen, Peter was seated at the table when I walked in.
“My, my, my, my, my!” he said. “My old bed has probably never seen a night like that.”
“I wondered if you were spying on us.” I said.
“I wasn’t spying. It was your fault. You kept thinking of me, just enough so that I was there but not all of the way. But I was there enough to see that gorgeous naked man.”
“Do ghosts get horny?”
“After what I saw last night, can you blame me? Va-va-voom! What a body. And what a cock.”
He looked at me for a moment and then he said, “You’ve got a pretty big cock, too. I wish Henry had been here so he could have seen you two in action. Is he spending the night again?”
“He wants to but we’ll see. I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this yet.”
“You looked pretty ready last night. You really are crazy if you let that one get away.”
“I’ve already told you, I don’t need romantic advice from a ghost. Do you want a cup of coffee?”
“Yes, please. I want to experience that again.”
I poured a mug for each of us and then sat down across from him.
“Did you and Henry have a good sex life?” I asked.
“What there was of it. We were always afraid that someone would find out, we could have been arrested. We did what we could when we could but we had to keep up appearances. When we were able to get together, it was like nothing on this earth.”
“I’m glad.” I said. “At least you had some happiness together before the accident.”
He sat gazing into space for a few moments and then he said, “You know how the walls in my bedroom are made out of boards? In the corner, under the window, there’s a board that can be removed down at the baseboard. It was my secret hiding place where I kept my most personal things. You should take a look.”
“Would that be okay with you?”
“Sure, I got a pretty good look at some of your intimates last night.”
He drained his cup and then rose and walked into the hallway. I thought that he’d return but he didn’t.
I cleaned up the morning dishes and went out to the front porch. It looked like there might be a storm going on out at sea, the waves were bigger than usual and tipped with foam. A cool wind buffeted the house and me. The gray sky was filled with clouds that moved swiftly across the expanse. I hadn’t yet experienced a storm here.
I sat on the porch as long as possible, thinking over the last 24 hours. I’d been celibate for a long time. Was I ready for a sexual relationship? Or, for that matter, any other kind? Would Casey have wanted me to stay faithful to him?
When the storm arrived it was with a vengeance. The rain came down in huge bursts, not separate rain drops. It was like someone was emptying buckets of water from the clouds.
I went indoors and sat for a while in the front room, watching the storm and the sea. The light had a silver sheen that I hadn’t seen before and it made the room around me a different place.
It was after 4 PM when I remembered Peter’s instructions regarding his secret hiding place. I went up to the bedroom and lit the lamp and angled the shade so that it illuminated the corner. At first I couldn’t find the movable boards. It turned out that you had to grip the edge of the baseboard and pull before the space came open. It was dark inside and I didn’t really relish sticking my hand into the opening but I did so. Inside, I could feel the cool surface of a metal box. I withdrew it from the dark tomb.
It was an oblong metal box that had once held a fruitcake, according to the painted labels. I carried it over to the bed and sat down with it on my lap. The lid didn’t want to open and it was only when I pressed my nails along the front crack and pulled up that the top finally shifted.
The first thing visible was a stack of photos. I lifted them out and began to look at them. The first several were of Peter and Henry together and separately out on the shore. They both wore heavy looking bathing trunks that were cut high at the waist and leg openings that were similar to old fashioned jockey shorts. Even though they were so bulky, they were kind of sexy.
Peter and Henry had both had slim bodies that were very different from today’s gym toned physiques.
They both had no body fat but their muscles were flat and smooth, rather than bulked up. Neither of them had noticeable body hair and they seemed very pale.
The next few pictures were more teasing. They were pulling their suits down to show their pubic hair to the camera, acting shocked at the other’s antics. Then there was a photo of Henry exposing his bare bottom while Peter sat laughing on the sand. In the next photo, they were standing side by side, Henry’s arm draped over Peter’s shoulders, with their backs to the camera and their suits lowered, displaying their butts. Both of them had very rounded, lush buns that would turn heads even today.
In the next photo, they had removed their suits and were holding them coyly in front of their cocks and balls while laughing, heads flung back.
Next photo, Peter had grabbed Henry’s trunks and was holding them above his head while a nude Henry reached for them. His silhouetted cock showed that not only was he pretty well hung, he was half hard.
Next, Henry had grabbed both pairs of trunks from Peter and was running away from him while Peter stood staring brazenly at the camera and smirking. He had a very nice sized uncut cock that was standing out from his body in a downward arc, rapidly inflating.
The next photo showed the two of them side by side again, facing the camera with fully erect cocks. They were roughly the same size, larger than average and both had big balls hanging down. Henry was covering his mouth laughing and it looked from the position of Peter’s hidden hand that he was groping Henry’s ass.
The final picture showed the two of them standing belly to belly nude and sharing a deep kiss with their arms wrapped around each other.
They looked so alive and so happy. I already knew the depressing end to the story and I felt like crying. Strangely, at the same time, I felt much better. If Peter were merely a product of my mental illness then I never would have known to look for his secret hiding place.
He didn’t reappear until later that evening. I was listening to the radio and reading when I noticed him sitting across from me.
“Henry and I looked pretty good, didn’t we?” he asked.
“You were both really hot men. You looked even hotter as a couple. But how did you ever have those pictures taken?”
“Henry was the really handsome one. Sometimes I couldn’t believe that he ever saw anything in me. The pictures were taken by a friend of ours who we‘d known in the city. We both had had a little fling with him and he was the one who introduced us. He worked as a photographer, so he had his own darkroom and everything. One weekend he came up for a visit and he took our pictures.”
He sat staring into space and so I asked, “Do you get lonely for Henry?”
“Of course I do, when I think of him.” Peter replied.
“Isn’t there any way you can contact him? After all, you’re both dead now.”
“It doesn’t work that way. He moved on. I’m stuck here. I have no way to contact him.”
“Gene said something last night that got me wondering. He asked if I was intending to hold a séance. Do you think that if I did and we contacted Henry, he could take you back with him?”
“I doubt it, I don’t believe in séances anyway. You’re making me upset.”
He rose and walked into the hallway. I didn’t bother to follow.
I spent the rest of the evening musing over my idea. I had summoned up Peter; maybe Henry wouldn’t be so difficult, too. Ida had said that she could feel a presence in the house; I could enlist her to help. I resolved to talk to her first thing in the morning.
I went up to bed and as I lay waiting for sleep to come, I couldn’t help thinking about how attractive and sexy Peter and Henry had been. In my younger days, I would have hit on either or both of them if I’d gotten the chance. I finally drifted off with a throbbing erection.
I have no idea how long I was asleep but I suddenly jerked awake to find Peter standing at the foot of the bed. I’d forgotten to turn off the bedside light. Peter stood before me, totally nude with a straining erection.
“You’ve been thinking naughty thoughts about me.” he said.
He certainly didn’t appear “ghostly”. Instead, he looked like a healthy young man in the prime of life. His body was muscular and hairless and there was s flush of pink making his cock and balls darker.
“I confess I have.” I said. “It looks like you’ve been having some of your own.” I indicated his stiff dick.
He pushed his big dick down and then let it go so that it slapped against his abdomen and said, “I don’t remember this as being this big. You must have been making unconscious improvements.”
“It certainly couldn’t be improved upon now.”
“Are you hard too?” he asked.
I slid the covers down so that he could see my stiff cock lying against my belly.
“That looks even prettier than last night.” he said.
I lay there admiring his body and cock until finally I had to ask, “Are you able to have sex?”
“I don’t think so, I don’t think I’m that…solid.” he said. He grasped his big hard dick and stroked it.
“We could jerk off together.” I said.
“We could, there’s nothing to stop that.” he said smiling.
He climbed onto the bed as I pulled my legs up and bent them at the knee. Inches from me, he stopped and sat back on his haunches. He gorgeous uncut cock was standing straight up from his crotch, the foreskin half pulled back to expose the shiny head.
I grasped my stiff shaft in my hand and began to stroke up and down it. He watched me and then did the same. His loose foreskin slid back and forth over his fat cock head, sometimes entirely covering it, sometimes exposing it entirely.
“It’s really hot to watch a guy beat an uncut cock.” I said.
“I like a cut guy.” Peter said.
His heavy balls were swinging back and forth as he stroked and I could get an occasional glimpse of his tight crack. I wondered what his hole looked like, what it would be like to fuck him.
“Now you’re making my ass hot, you dirty old man.” Peter said. “You must be thinking of it.”
“I was fantasizing about sticking my dick in you.” I said. “I bet you were a helluva hot fuck.”
I was jerking my dick hard now and I could feel myself beginning to ready to shoot.
“I was,” Peter said, “either giving or receiving. Henry and I used to fuck like rabbits every chance we got. We were both great at sucking dick, too.”
He was pounding his cock in front of me, his knees flexing so that he bounced up and down with his cock in his hand.
“Do you think you’re able to cum?” I asked.
No sooner said than done. A thick gout of cum blasted out of his cock, into the air. Instead of falling on the bed it floated up into the air and disappeared.
My own load squirted over my belly instead of disappearing. I was coated from the chin down with hot juice as I watched Peter finish himself off. When his balls were drained, he fell over on his side laughing.
“That’s not a very flattering reaction.” I said.
“It’s not you.” he said, barely able to control his giggles. He gathered up some of his cum from his cock head and flicked it upward where it rose and disappeared.
“Ectoplasm!” he said and began laughing again. I couldn’t help but laugh, too.
He got off of the bed and went to sit in the corner chair. I closed my eyes and when I peeped again, he was gone.
The next morning he didn’t appear so after breakfast I drove myself to Ida’s. She heard the car arrive and came out onto her porch.
“Would you do something weird if I asked you to?” I said, standing at the porch steps.
She paused a moment and then said, “That would depend on what and how weird.”
“Would you come over and help me hold a séance tonight? I want to see if I can summon Henry.”
She got a slightly perplexed, slightly peeved look and said, “Maybe you’re getting to wound up in the Peter and Henry story.”
“I’m working on getting over it.” I said.
“Did Gene show up at your place?” she asked, off the subject.
“Yes, he did.” I didn’t really feel like discussing her nephew and my interactions. “Will you come over tonight?”
“I’ll be there after I watch my shows.” she said. “About 10 but I can’t stay a long time.”
“That’s perfect.” I said. “Thank you, Ida.”
I turned to go but before I left she said, “Gene’s a good boy. You be nice to him.”
When I got back home, Peter was sitting in the living room. Something else had occurred to me on the drive and as I sat down across from him I asked, “Have you ever been to the graveyard?”
“Henry and I spent an afternoon looking for his relatives.” Peter replied. “It isn’t very interesting.”
“Would you like to visit Henry’s grave?”
He gave me a look that I couldn’t really interpret so I pushed on.
“I could drive you; you’ve ridden in cars before so it wouldn’t be breaking any rules or anything. Maybe you’ll feel some connection or something if you’re right at his grave.”
He sat thinking and then he said, “I would. I’d like to visit him, even though he’s not there. I’d feel closer to him somehow.”
I led him outside to where I had parked my car and opened the passenger door.
“I can see the wheels and the seat.’ he said. “The rest is all just a blur.”
“Just climb in and sit down.” I said. ‘Don’t bump your head; the roof is probably lower than you’re used to.”
“Ghosts don’t bump their heads, dummy.” he replied.
When he was seated, I climbed in the driver’s side. I started to tell him to wear his seatbelt, and then realized there was no point.
I started the engine and we embarked.
“Quieter than I’m used to.” Peter said. “Rides lower, too.”
We rode along for a couple of miles. We only had to cross one major intersection and as luck would have it, Gene was stopped on the other street, waiting for the light.
“Gene is up ahead on the right; I didn’t expect to see him.” I said and Peter craned to look.
As we drove past I waved and he looked at me as if he was confused.
“Mr. Big Dick looked like he swallowed a pickle.” Peter said with a grin.
When we arrived at the graveyard, I opened the door to let Peter out. He looked around himself and then took off on his own. He was ahead of me by several feet when he abruptly stopped.
“We’re here.” he said.
I looked past him and saw Henry’s headstone, a granite slab set into the ground. The grave was neat and tidy, recently trimmed and there were flowers in a jar. I knew that Ida was probably responsible.
I stepped to one side of Peter and walked forward to get a better look at the stone and Peter said, “Ouch, watch where you’re walking.”
I stopped and looked around and then saw that Peter’s headstone was beside Henry’s. I was standing on his grave.
I jumped backward to what felt like a safe spot and said, “I’m so sorry! Could you feel that?”
“No, you horse’s ass. I was teasing you.”
Peter looked around and then said, “Still pretty boring here if you ask me.”
I walked along the edge of Henry’s grave and when I reached his headstone, I crouched down and rested my hand on it.
“Peter’s here, if you can hear me, Henry.” I said. “I brought him to see you. Are you nearby?”
“Are you crazy?” Peter said. “You’re talking to a rock.”
“But he could be.” I said. “His body is here.”
“And he’s somewhere else. Nice graves, though. They get lots of sun.”
I couldn’t help thinking about how beautiful Peter had looked the night before, nude on my bed and how his body now was probably bones and dust. When I glanced up at him, he’d become a decomposed corpse out of a horror film. I was so startled that I fell over backward. When I looked up again, he was back to normal.
“That was really rude.” Peter said. “Don’t do that! And it was really uncomfortable, too.”
“I’m sorry, I just got to thinking.” I said.
“Well, don’t. I didn’t like that at all. I still have some vanity, even if I am dead.”
I sat up and placed my hand back on the granite slab.
“Come on, goofy, nobody’s home. Let’s get back.” Peter said.
We drove back to the house in silence and when I pulled into the drive, I was surprised to see Gene’s truck parked there. I turned to say something to Peter but he’d disappeared.
When I got out of my car, Gene also got out of his truck and met me halfway.
“I thought you might call me last night.” he said.
“I made an early night of it and went to bed.” I said.
He looked me up and down for a moment and then he said, “Who was the guy in the car with you earlier?”
I was shocked, unsure of what he was talking about and then it dawned on me that he must mean when we had passed at the crossroad.
“There was no one with me.” I said.
“It looked like there was a good looking guy sitting next to you. When I blinked, he was gone, like he ducked down and hid.”
“I haven’t had a living soul in my car.” I said. “Isn’t it kind of early to be getting possessive, anyway?”
“I was sure I saw someone.” he replied. “It has really been bothering me. I told you, I don’t do hookups. I want to see more of you, a lot more of you.”
“Gene, maybe insanity is catching. I know I’m going nuts, maybe you’re infected from me, too.”
“The only crazy I am is crazy about you. Can I come over tonight?”
“That might be awkward. Ida is planning to stop by late.”
“Maybe I can come by after she leaves?”
“I’ll call you.” I said.
I walked into the house before he could say any more.
Inside, Peter was in his usual chair.
“Gene thought he saw you earlier.” I said to him.
“I can make that happen for a few seconds when I really try. It will do him good to feel jealous.”
“Please stay out of my love life.” I said and walked into the kitchen.
I didn’t see Peter the rest of the day, he knew that I was pissed about his little stunt with Gene and made himself scarce. I spent the rest of the day reviewing my ghost books, reading everything even remotely related to séances. When all is said and done, it seems all you really need is a dim room, some candles and something that belonged to the deceased, if possible. I went upstairs to Henry’s room and checked his closet but all of his clothing had been disposed of in the cleaning. I looked around, knowing that there had to be something.
My eyes lit on the dresser with its pair of brushes lined up on the top. When I picked one of them up, there was still a number of gray hairs caught in the bristles. I carried them downstairs.
It was starting to get dark when I set up a table and two chairs in the living room. I placed the brushes in the center of the table and placed candles at points around the room. Then, I sat down on the sofa to wait.
I must have dozed off; the next thing I knew was that someone was knocking at the door. I jumped up and went to answer.
In the porch light, Ida was standing in front of the door in a pair of pajamas with a robe over the top, with a winter coat on top of it all. Her hair was wound tightly in curlers and she’d wound a scarf turban style around her head.
The first thing she said when I opened the door was, “I must need my head examined, gallivanting all over kingdom come in the middle of the night.”
“I really appreciate it, Ida; you’re the only one who would understand.”
“Well let’s get busy. Tom was asleep when I left; maybe I can get back home before he misses me.”
I led her into the living room. Peter was sitting in his chair but she, of course, couldn’t see him.
“Lovely outfit.” Peter said. “She didn’t have to dress up just for me.”
I glared at him and he smirked.
I walked around the room and lit the candles, then turned off the lamps. After seating Ida at the table, I took my seat across from her.
“This is like a scene from the second feature on a double bill I saw when I was young.” Peter said. “Except that was at Halloween.”
I ignored him and said to Ida, “We need to clasp hands and shut our eyes while I call on the spirits.”
“You both should have sipped some spirits before you started this.” Peter said. “Maybe then you’d see something.”
Ida and I held hands on the table top, eyes closed and I said to the room, “We are calling on the spirit of Henry, who lived in this house. We ask you to make yourself known.”
Nothing happened.
“Wouldn’t it be funny if you raised a giant hairball since you’re using his brush?” Peter said.
“Henry, we call you to come forward and communicate with us here in this room.” I said.
Nothing.
“Henry, come and reunite with the spirit of your friend Peter and take him back with you.”
“What, now you’re trying to bring them both back?” Ida asked.
“I just want to make sure that they’re together, wherever they are.” I told her.
I opened one eye and looked at her and she was doing the same to me.
“Maybe you’re not cut out for raising up ghosts.” she said.
“Well, we both know better than that.” Peter said. “Maybe you should have tried this on Henry’s tombstone today. There’s a lot more of him there than there is in his hairbrush.”
I don’t know why it hadn’t occurred to me.
“Ida,” I said, “can I ask one more favor and I’ll never ask for another. Can we try this on Henry’s grave?”
“Go traipsing around the graveyard when there isn’t even a moon? We’ll probably get shot for trespassing.” She looked incredulous.
“Pleas, Ida, and I’ll never mention it again. It won’t take long and maybe it will work.”
“I must be crazier than you are, going along with this. Come on, let’s get it over with.”
“I’ll meet you there.” Peter said. “I don’t like your driving.”
As we stepped out onto the porch Ida looked at the sky.
“There’s a storm blowing, better wear your boots.”
“I don’t have any.” I said.
She tsk’ed and said, “Come along.” and then led me over to her car. She opened the trunk and took out a huge pair of rubber soled boots.
“These are Tom’s; we always carry a couple pair for emergencies. You can borrow them.”
As we each donned our boots, the wind picked up, blowing in from the sea.
“Let’s get a move on unless you’re planning on getting soaked.” she told me.
The trip to the cemetery seemed much shorter than it had earlier in the day and, the entire way, we didn’t pass another vehicle on the road. The gates were closed so we got out and walked to Henry’s grave. Peter was standing beside it.
“What took so long?” he asked.
I put out the brushes and the candles. I had a hard time lighting them because of the breeze, I could only imagine what it must be like at home. I put my coat down on the grass for Ida to sit on and then sat down across the gravestone from her.
“This is pretty spooky, isn’t it?” Peter said. “A desolate graveyard in the middle of the night. What if you see a ghost?”
I continued to ignore him.
I grasped Ida’s hands and as I had at home, I called out, “We are calling on Henry, the occupant of this grave, to make himself known.”
Nothing happened, as before.
“Henry, show us your spirit and reunite with the spirit of your friend Peter who waits for you.”
“I wouldn’t strictly say I was waiting for him, I never expected him to turn up.” Peter said.
I knew it wasn’t working and I knew that I was becoming angry.
“Henry, we demand that you appear to us and be known.” I bellowed and then said, “Goddamnit!”
“I’m sure that’s not part of the ceremony.” Peter said.
I glared up at him and Ida said, “Honey, this just isn’t working.”
“We’ve got to keep trying is all.” I said. “I know I can make it work.”
There was a loud ominous rumble overhead as the storm moved in.
“I’m sorry, Ed, but I’m not going to sit out here and get drenched. You keep trying; I’ll wait in the car.” Ida said as she rose from the ground.
There was another peal of thunder as she walked away.
“I told you séances are hogwash.” Peter said.
“They’re not hogwash. I know I can reunite the two of you.”
It began to rain, just lightly at first but it made me even angrier.
“I’m not leaving here until Henry comes for you, even if it takes all night.” I said, becoming even angrier as the shower began to seep through my clothes.
Peter walked closer and he said, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do and I thank you, but it just won’t work. You can’t change the past.”
As he said that, the heavens let loose. The rain didn’t come down in drops, it came down in bucketfuls. I was immediately soaked through and in a towering rage.
“I can make it change, goddamnit!” I shouted at him. “It’s not fair, it’ll never be fair.”
“I can accept it.” Peter said.
“Well I can’t and I won’t!” By now, I was shouting at him at the top of my lungs.
“It can’t be this way, there has to be some hope.” I shouted. I began to beat my fists against the granite headstone and I shouted, “Goddamnit, Henry! I know you can hear me. Somebody can hear me! Peter doesn’t deserve this and neither does Henry. You have to let them be together.”
All of the emotion of the past years had finally broken through my shell and I was sobbing while I shouted. I was a sodden mess, mud covered and cold, and I fell face forward onto the stone.
“Please, please let them be together.” I sobbed.
“You’re going to catch pneumonia.” Peter said.
I continued to sob my guts out against the cold stone. I could see Peter’s legs and when I looked up his body, he was staring into the clouds.
“What?” I asked. “What do you see?”
“Don’t you see it?” he asked. “It’s beautiful.”
I looked up into the sky, aware only of a glow behind the clouds.
“It’s the moon.” I said.
“No, it’s coming closer, look.”
I stared up into the sky and it did seem that the glow was becoming brighter. The torrents of rain were crashing down around me but I became unaware of the deluge as I watched the sky. The glow was definitely growing, moving toward us from the horizon.
When it was almost overhead, it burst through the clouds with a radiance I’ve never seen before or since.
“Is it a meteor?” I asked.
Peter was staring upward, his mouth hanging open. I couldn’t look directly at it but I could see by the movement of his head that it was descending. In a moment, it was on the ground in front of us. I covered my eyes with my hands and peeked through a tiny gap between my fingers. It looked like an oval with pointed ends, resting upright. Even that tiny glance made my eyes feel fried. It didn’t make a sound, all you could hear was the pouring rain.
I looked at Peter and he was smiling and walking toward it. He approached until he was almost in front of it.
“Henry, you handsome son of a gun, what are you doing here?” he asked, staring into the radiance.
I had risen to my feet, still holding my hands in front of my eyes and I held them in front of the glow so that I could see Peter.
He turned to me and said, “He wants me to go with him.”
“Go,” I screamed, “go with him. Now’s your chance.”
He smiled at me and stepped forward. I saw him reach his hand out and then he looked at me again.
“I thought it might burn but it feels really good.” he said.
Shielding the blinding glow, I could see him stepping forward. The front half of his body disappeared into the opening but then he stuck his head back out.
“Henry has a message for you.” he told me. “Casey says he loves you and he’s waiting for you.”
I felt as if my bones had turned to water, it was a miracle I was still standing.
He moved forward a bit, and then poked his head out again.
“And he said to give Gene a break, he’s a really good guy and he likes him.”
I was somewhere beyond stupefied, probably in some degree of shock. I watched Peter disappear into the bright void, his left foot the last part of him to be consumed.
The oval began to make a noise, a crackling like electricity or a fire burning out of control. I could hear it over the sound of the rain slamming down.
Then the oval began to shrink in upon itself, never losing shape but disappearing at the edges, almost as if it was drawing inward. In a matter of only a minute, the glow was a big as my palm, suspended in front of me and then it shrank to the size of a pinhole and totally disappeared.
At the very same instant, there was a huge blinding flash in front of me and I felt myself falling over.
When I came to, Ida was crouched over me with an umbrella to keep the rain off of my face.
“I thought you were dead for sure.” she said.
“Did you see what happened?” I asked.
“I saw a bolt of lightning strike right dead here.” she said “You’re lucky your skinny ass isn’t fried up like bacon.”
I became conscious of the smell of burning rubber and looked at my feet. Tom’s boots were melted on the soles and little curls of smoke rose from them. Ida followed my gaze and said, “I told you to wear your boots. Those rubber soles grounded you. Looks like Tom’s going to need a new pair.”
She helped me to my feet and supported me so that I wouldn’t pitch over.
“You can see where the bolt hit.” she said, leading me to the gravestones. “It struck right between the two stones. The lightning melted the sand in the soil and threw up a bridge between them out of thunder glass. There’s no way they’re ever going to be able to get those two apart again.”
There was a dark bond between the stones in the light of Ida’s flashlight. They were joined inseparably.
We slowly made our way back to my car and Ida helped me into the passenger seat, then got behind the wheel.
“It was a kind thing you tried to do.” she said as we drove home. “Don’t feel disappointed just because it didn’t work.”
“I’m not, Ida.” I said. “I’m not disappointed.”
We drove the road back in silence except for Ida chastising me over my wet clothes and worrying that Tom had awakened to discover her gone. The rain stopped as we drove, the clouds cleared and a full moon lit our route.
When we pulled into my drive, the first thing I noticed was a dark shape on the porch swing and my heart sank. After all of that, after all of the effort, Peter was still here.
I got out of the car and walked forward.
Gene stood up in the moonlight and stepped forward.
“Where have you been this late at night?” he asked. “You said you were going to call me.”
I felt my pockets but I couldn’t find my phone.
He took a step nearer, down one of the concrete steps and said, “I don’t appreciate being toyed with. If you’re seeing someone else, you could have just said so. I thought you were feeling the same way I am.”
I heard the car door open behind me and Ida strode up to where we stood.
“He’s been with me, you big dope. We got stuck in the storm, look at him. He looks like a drowned rat. And as far as I remember, we didn’t visit any opium dens or roman orgies before that.”
Gene looked from one to the other of us and back again and was opening his mouth to say something when a car’s headlights turned into the drive and lit our group up. The driver didn’t turn off the engine or the lights but we heard a door open. In a moment, Tom stood beside us.
“What’s the idea of keeping my wife out till all hours, you little bastard.” he said to me.
“We got stuck.” Ida said.
“Stuck, my eye. I knew he was after you when he gave you that clock. I thought you had more sense than to fall in love at your age.”
He turned back to me and said, “You’re not going to take her. I’ll fight you every way there is. I’ll let everyone in town that you’re a home wrecker.”
I was speechless. I looked at Gene and his mouth was also gaping. Then, Tom grabbed me by the shirtfront.
“You stop it right now, you loony old coot.” Ida said loudly. “He doesn’t even like women.”
It was out in the open and couldn’t be avoided.
“At least, not that way.” I said.
Tom glared at me, and then his face slowly began to relax. Finally, he burst out laughing, grabbed me by the hand and clapped the other hand on my shoulder.
“Well, why didn’t you just come right out and say so?“ he asked. “I don’t have any bad feelings against you fellows. I knew a couple of them when I was in the navy, I never saw how as they were any different from anybody else.” He was pumping my hand like we’d just met.
He looked over my shoulder, noticing Gene for the first time and got that merry look again.
“So, are you two like an item?” he asked Gene.
“No.” I said at the same time that Gene said, “Yes.”
He wrapped his arms around me from behind and said, “He just hasn’t realized it yet.”
“Well, that’s good news.” Tom said. He got sort of a sly look and said, “There are a lot of questions I always wanted to ask a fellow like you, stuff about what you do and how and who does what, all of that. I never have been sure I’ve got it right.”
“You could have asked me, you nut.” Ida said.
“I can’t talk to you about men stuff, besides; I want it right from the horse’s mouth so I know it’s the truth.”
He turned back to me and said, “Ida is going to be binge-watching one of her murder shows the night after tomorrow’s. Why don’t you come over, I’ll get us some rum and coke and we can sit around the kitchen table and let me pick your brain.”
“Okay, I can do that.” I said.
“You come too, Gene.” he said over my shoulder.
When he turned back to Ida, her smile was lighting up the dark.
“What?” he asked.
“You were jealous.” she said. “You tracked me all the way over her in the middle of the night, thinking I had a fellow. You just gave me the best present of your life, you old lunatic.”
He shuffled his feet, looking down, and said, “I just wanted to make sure you’d be able to get up early enough to cook breakfast. You know I can’t even fry an egg without setting the kitchen on fire.”
Ida was grinning even wider and her hand snaked out and pinched Tom’s buttock. He must have jumped a foot in the air.
“You crazy woman, that’s going to leave a bruise.” he said.
“That’s alright; I know how to make it feel better.”
She stepped up to him, wrapped her arms around him and gave him a kiss right out of the movies.
“Maybe you need to go out more often, if this is the mood you come home in.” he said when she finally let him up for air.
We watched as they each climbed into their vehicle and then Ida followed her husband home. I went over and sat down on the porch step. Gene came along behind me and sat down at my side and as I leaned against him, he wrapped his arm around me.
“My god, you’re freezing.” he said.
I sat up and looked at him and said, “So, what happens next, since you’ve decided to be the one in charge?”
He stood up and pulled me to my feet and said, “Next, we get you upstairs and out of those wet clothes and into a hot shower. Then we get you into a nice warm bed where you’re going to sleep until late in the morning.”
I allowed him to lead me up to the bathroom where he turned the shower on, then undressed me. I climbed into the warm water and let it flow over me. I wondered what Peter and Henry were doing right now.
When I had finished showering, I wrapped myself in towels and went to the bedroom. Gene was in bed, the bedside lamp on and as I slid in beside him I could feel his nude body against mine.
I reached down and wrapped my hand around the long thick shaft of his hard cock.
“You honestly expect me to go to sleep with this thing in my bed?” I asked.
He pulled my hand up away from his dick, then rearranged our bodies so that we were lying face to face and belly to belly, my head resting on his shoulder and my face buried against the warm pelt on his body.
“You have our whole future to play with that.” he said. “Whenever, however and as often as you like. But, right now, you’re going to get some rest.”
“Yes, sir.” I answered. I let myself relax, inhaling his male aroma and feeling his heart beating. It wasn’t long until I was sliding into the black abyss of sleep.
“I’m going to take good care of you from now on.” I heard him whisper, the very last thing before I was spinning off into the blackness. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid.