The Handyman's Dream (32 page)

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Monday morning found Ed back at work, installing a series of shelving units in the garage of a younger couple, the Rhodeses, who had just moved into his neighborhood. Ed seldomly found himself working for people near his own age, and he enjoyed Becky Rhodes’s lively personality, and even more so, her teasing but wicked comments about how inept her new husband was with all things mechanical. Ed couldn’t help it; he felt smug every time he learned of a straight man who was hopeless with tools. It always seemed a victory of sorts over their supposed superiority.

Ed finished the job by lunchtime, and with Becky Rhodes’s fervent thanks, payment, and promise to call the next time she needed help, he drove home for a bite to eat, basking in an exceptionally good mood for a Monday. The air was still cold, but fresh with a hint of spring. March was, Ed thought, coming in more lamb than lion.

The phone was ringing as he entered the house, and he ran to answer it, assuming it was a call for more work. Much to his surprise, the caller was Gordy Smith.

Ed hadn’t seen Gordy since his confrontation with Jim Murkland at the post office. Back in January, Ed had tracked down Gordy’s home phone number, had called to thank him for his backup that day, and had invited him to join Rick and himself for a meal sometime. He’d heard no more from Gordy, however, and had just assumed Gordy was uncomfortable with the idea of spending time with them, although he was now Rick’s favorite co-worker. Rick had told Ed they usually shared a cup of coffee and conversation before Rick left on his mail route each day.

“Ed, I was wondering, are you free for lunch today?” Gordy asked now. “I feel a little stupid about this,” he continued with obvious embarrassment, “but I could really use someone to talk to.”

“Sure,” Ed said cheerfully. “You’re more than welcome to come over here. We can talk in private that way.”

“Well . . .” Gordy seemed to be weighing that idea in his mind. “Okay,” he finally said. “Tell you what, though, I’ll make a McDonald’s run for us. The least I can do is bring the food. What would you like?”

“Oh, just grab me a Big Mac and fries. That oughta hold me. I’ve got lots of pop to drink here, or stronger stuff, if you like.”

“Not while I’m working,” Gordy said, sounding more like himself. “Hell, the last thing I need is to sell stamps with beer breath. Thanks, Ed. I’ll be over in about a half hour.”

Ed hung up the phone, puzzling over the unexpected turn of events, wondering what was on Gordy’s mind. Jett came out of the bedroom, meowing for attention. Ed picked him up, amazed at how quickly he was getting used to having a cat around the house.

“We’ve got company comin’, cat,” he said, petting Jett. “So behave yourself. No drama, and whatever you hear, keep it to yourself.”

By the time Gordy arrived, Jett was parked in a living room window, enjoying the sunshine, and Ed had, as usual, another stack of nostalgia on his turntable. It seemed appropriate, as most of Ed’s memories of Gordy were from high school.

Gordy Smith, Porterfield High class of ’68, had not been one of the standouts on the football team, but had been a strong and enthusiastic player. Ed, two years behind him, had always admired Gordy, not for his athletic ability, but for his general all-around nice-guy attitude, a definite departure from the behavior of the other jocks in school. They’d never been more than acquaintances, but Ed was eager to make friends with the only other gay man in Porterfield he was aware of, other than Rick and himself. Oh, he knew there had to be others, but small towns being what they are, he’d never made an effort to seek them out.

Gordy came into Ed’s kitchen rather tentatively, and Ed did his best to make him feel at home. They spread their lunch over the table, and Ed went to the refrigerator to fetch a couple of cans of Pepsi for them. Gordy nodded toward the music coming from the living room. “Time of the Season” by the Zombies was playing.

“Man, that sounds great. I can’t decide, though, if it makes me feel ten years younger or ten years older. ‘Who’s your daddy!’ I always loved that song,” he said with a grin, apparently beginning to relax.

“I pulled out all my old 45s right after Rick and I got together,” Ed said, opening his Big Mac box. “He likes those old songs as much as I do. Sometimes we talk about what it was like for us in high school. I think the only thing we really enjoyed from that time was the music.”

Gordy munched on some fries, looking thoughtful. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Oh, high school was great for me. I wasn’t any brain, but I didn’t mind the classes, and I liked playing ball. But I’ll tell you,” he said, shaking his head, grinning again, “that locker room could really be a problem for me. All those naked guys. Man! And they’re all talking about pussy, and there I am, trying not to look at their dicks, eyes always on the floor. Now, that sucked.”

“I’ll bet.” Ed remembered his own gym classes. “But how did you deal with it, other than that?”

“I didn’t,” Gordy replied flatly. “I went out with girls, made out with ’em, and pretended nothing was wrong.” He rolled his eyes at the song that came on after the Zombies, “Tracy” by the Cuff Links. “Jesus, now, there’s a memory. Remember Tracy Pettibone? Hell, I dated her all through senior year. We’d make out in my car, and she always thought I respected her ’cause I didn’t want to go all the way. We broke up when she went away to college, and, man, I was more relieved than anything. I remember when they starting playing this song on the radio. I’d think about her, wondering if she’d met some guy who wanted the real thing. And I’d think about me, trying to tell myself that I just hadn’t met the right girl yet. Then I met Laura Kendall. Gawd, what a disaster that turned out to be.”

Ed nodded. “Yeah, I remember that. Weren’t you two engaged?”

“Oh, yeah. Engaged, never married. By that time I was drinking a lot, and she wouldn’t tolerate it. She finally dumped me for some asshole car salesman over in Wabash. Best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Then what did you do?”

Gordy shrugged. “Oh, turned into a hermit, I guess. Went to work. Came home. Drank too much. Beat off a lot, thinkin’ about guys I saw on TV or who came into the post office. I finally met this guy in Fort Wayne. Nelly kinda guy, so I figured he was queer. That was the first time I ever did it with another guy. Damn.” He shook his head, food forgotten, lost in the memory. “He wasn’t my type at all, but I was over there all the time, making up for lost time, I guess. Of course he fell for me, but I wasn’t ready for that. At all. But I learned a lot from him, and I owe him just as much. Stan, his name was. He finally met a nice guy, and they’ve been together for a long time. I’m glad about that.

“So I guess that’s how I kinda came out—although I stopped going to Fort Wayne, afraid someone from town might see me. I go to Indy or Chicago for long weekends, which is great. No shortage of guys wanting to get laid there. But I get pretty bored around here. When Rick started at the post office I wondered about him, but was afraid to do anything. Then I figured out what was going on between you two. Man,” he said, and laughed. “Good old Ed Stephens, under my damned nose this whole time. If I’d only known.”

Ed laughed with him. “Yeah, me too. You know, though, I’m still not sure Rick and I would have gotten together if we hadn’t’ve bumped into each other at Carlton’s. I had such a big crush on him, and I couldn’t believe he was feeling the same thing for me.”

“Rick’s a good man,” Gordy said, nodding and smiling. “I think it’s great, you two. I really hope it works out, but if it doesn’t . . . ,” he said, leering at Ed.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Ed smirked at him. “But I’m hoping it won’t be an option.”

“Seriously, though.” Gordy sipped his Pepsi. “You guys are an inspiration. If you can make it in this town, there’s hope for me. I guess that’s why I wanted to see you. I’m tired of hiding, tired of being alone. I thought about it a lot after that day at work, with Murk the Jerk. I realized I was being all careful because of assholes like him. Shit. I guess I’m getting old enough that I don’t much care what people like him think anymore. So I was kinda hoping,” he said, looking up at Ed, “that maybe we could get to be friends. All three of us. I think it’s time I started living my life the way I want.”

“Deal.”

Ed stretched a hand out for Gordy to shake. Gordy did, gratefully.

“I wanted to talk to you first. Rick’s the greatest, and I love working with him, but I’ve known you for so long, well, I just thought this might be easier,” Gordy said, going back to his lunch.

“I understand. Rick and I both kinda hoped we’d be seeing more of you. We’re kinda short on friends around here, too.”

“Yep, I guess all us Porterfield fags could use a little support. It’s funny,” he said thoughtfully. “I used to keep up on all the job openings in the big-city post offices, but I never really made an effort to do anything.” He shrugged apologetically. “This is home. I don’t see why I have to leave, just for being gay.”

“Yeah. But you know, it’s 1981. Things are a-changing, at least a little. And for what it’s worth, you’re still as big and nasty as you were in school. I can’t imagine anyone messing with you.”

“Big, yes. Nasty, no,” Gordy said ruefully, patting his belly. “Maybe hanging out with some new friends, getting out more, will make me want to get rid of some of this. I get too fat and no guy will want me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much,” Ed said, looking at the still attractive Gordy, but seeing a younger, slightly trimmer Gordy, complete with letter jacket. “A lot of guys out there have football player fantasies. I don’t think you’ll have too much trouble, either way.”

* * * * *

Gordy had gone back to work by the time Rick stopped with Ed’s mail. He dropped his mailbag to give Ed a hug.

“So how’s your day been so far?”

“Pretty good,” Ed answered, with an extra squeeze for Rick. “That job with the new people went great this morning. And you’ll never guess who was here for lunch.”

“Oh?” Rick reached out for Jett, who’d come over to greet him. “Who would that be?”

“Gordy Smith. He called and asked if we could talk. So he came over with some crap from the Mac Shack. It was really nice, though. We had a long talk about being gay in a town like this, and he wanted to know if he could hang out with us sometime. I said it was cool, since we’d already talked about it. Isn’t that great?”

“Yeah,” Rick said, intent on petting the cat. “How ’bout that.”

Ed noticed a distinct lack of enthusiasm in Rick’s voice. “Oh, come on. You’re not still worried about that, are you? You don’t have a thing to worry about. Gordy and I talked about it. He even called us an inspiration. There’s no way he’s going to try anything.”

“An inspiration, huh?” Rick remarked—rather sourly, Ed thought. “He’ll see how inspired I am if he ever lays a hand on you.”

Ed rolled his eyes. “Oh, brother. Not only is he your best friend at work, he’s a lonely gay guy who wants some nice guys to hang out with. Geez. Like I’d even look at another guy with you around.”

Rick dropped the cat to the sofa and looked at Ed for a moment. A grin slowly came onto his face. “Yeah, while I’m around,” he said cryptically.

Ed decided the subject needed to be changed, and fast. “So am I going to see you at all tonight? I’m going through withdrawal from the weekend.”

“Oh,” Rick said, grabbing his mailbag, “I don’t know. Maybe for a while after supper if things are quiet at home. I’ll call you, okay?”

“Hey,” Ed said as Rick moved toward the door. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Rick stopped, turned around, and finally smiled his warm and tender special. “I’m sorry, baby.” He grabbed Ed for another hug, a wonderfully tight one. “I guess I’ve just got the Monday blahs. Don’t pay any attention to me. I love you, baby,” he whispered, then backed it up with a kiss.

“I love you too,” Ed whispered, clinging to Rick, rubbing his back through his heavy coat. “Call me, okay?”

“I will. I promise,” he said, letting Ed go. He paused for a moment, looking at Ed, then he smiled again. “You know, as far as I’m concerned, you are one hot guy. Maybe no one’s beating down this door to get you to pose for some stupid magazine, but you’re still the cutest handyman in this town and probably the whole state of Indiana.” He opened the door. “I’ll call you right after supper. I promise.”

Ed watched him cross Grant Street and walk to the next house on his route. He knew Rick was still bugged about Gordy for some reason, but he couldn’t understand why. Handsome as Gordy was, Ed wasn’t particularly attracted to him.

Since he’d met Rick, he hadn’t paid any more attention to other men than any average gay guy would. Rick was exactly what he’d always wanted, and he knew Rick felt the same way about him. Their intimate time together over the weekend had to have shown Rick the fire between them was burning just as hot, if not hotter than in the beginning. The awkwardness and tentative motions of their early lovemaking had disappeared. These days, when they reached for each other, it was with total trust and confidence; all of their individual desires could be, and always were, satisfied within their mutual boundaries.

Unlike some gay men, Ed had a tendency to think with his brain and his heart, as opposed to his dick, so he was mystified that Rick could possibly think he’d have any interest in another man. He thought of Jack, who’d routinely cheated on Rick. Maybe that was it, he thought. Maybe he worried that Ed would turn out to be like Jack. Ed sighed. All he could do, he supposed, was let time show Rick that Ed was not like Jack, and that he was stuck with Ed for life, if he wanted to be. Ed certainly hoped he did.