Two Sides of the Same Coin (7 page)

D
AWN
seemed to come pretty early. Light was streaming through the skylight into my room. I knew I wasn’t gonna get back to sleep, so I pulled on my clothes. I headed downstairs to the kitchen to make some coffee. When I got there, Mike was already up. Coffee was boiling away in the old battered blue and white enamel pot I liked so much. His shirt was open, showing off his partially buttoned long handles and furry chest. He had big circles under his eyes and that sallow, pasty, kind of green look that says hangover.

“Mornin’, bud, how’d ya sleep?”

“Like a rock. Don’t seem to have gotten too much rest though, and my head feels like it’s about to explode.”

“Yeah, well, buddy, you were poundin’ the whiskey pretty hard.”

“It was a tough day for me yesterday. I was just gettin’ to be friends with Pedro. Then I was at his funeral. Sheriff reckons I did it. Tellin’ you all about my hell of a time growin’ up wasn’t easy. I needed the whiskey.”

“I bet you needed someone to talk to also. I hope my listenin’ helped.”

“You know, it did, thanks.”

He looked at me searchingly, and then his eyes drifted down my chest. I had my shirt on, but it was unbuttoned and my long johns were tight enough to show the cut in my chest. The top couple of buttons on my underwear were unbuttoned, but nowhere near as far as his. He looked up at me and turned a bit red. He gave a half smile and turned to the coffee pot, which he took off the heat.

“Coffee’s on.”

“Thanks. If you’ll let me get some coffee, I’ll rustle up some breakfast for us.”

“You don’t have to. I can get some cereal in the bunkhouse.”

“Mike, I don’t cook all that bad. You’re gonna make me feel real inhospitable if you don’t let me fix us something.”

“Well… if that’s the case, I can’t have you feelin’ bad can I?”

“I hope I didn’t interrupt this cozy little hee haw moment.” Robert was standing in the kitchen door.

“Nothin’ to interrupt, Robert. You remember Mike.” Robert moved forward and held his hand out to Mike who grasped it. I could tell Robert was trying to crush Mike’s hand, and not getting anywhere. In fact he looked like he was hurtin’ a lot more than Mike.”

“We’ve already met if you remember,” Robert said sourly.

“Coffee, Robert?” I asked as the handshake contest finished. Robert was trying to rub his hand. He definitely did come out on the worse end.

“Sure, you know how I love cowboy coffee.” I did a double take, but poured him a cup along with one for Mike, then myself.

“Ya like cowboy coffee do ya, Robert? I’m glad to hear it. Seems a lot of guys from the city can’t drink good, honest, strong coffee. They need their Starbucks.” Mike was smiling at Robert, who was adding spoon after spoon of sugar and half the carton of cream to his coffee.

“Yes. It’s one of the things Jeffrey has introduced me to.” My mouth was hanging open with surprise. Maybe Robert had thought about what I said last night.

“That’s just spiffy,” Mike continued. “So maybe we can go ridin’ later this afternoon. To be honest with ya, Robert, I ain’t got a whole hell of a lot of friends here, and Jeff’s one. I sure could be friends with a guy like you too. A guy who rides real well, likes cowboy coffee, hell I wonder just what other fascinatin’ things there are to get to know about ya.” Robert hemmed and hawed on this; I knew the last thing he wanted to get near right now was a horse. He knew Mike was making fun of him, but he wasn’t really sure how. He did come up with a snide comment pretty quick though. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why I was gettin’ on his nerves so bad.

“So Mike, I have a question for you. Do all cowboys like to run around half-dressed or in their underwear, or is it just Jeffrey?”

At this, Mike slouched back in his chair. His legs were spread wide apart, long, lean and gangly. He put his hands behind his head as he leaned back, causing his half unbuttoned shirt to fall open and expose his chest and long johns.

“I think it’s not so much cowboys as men, Robert. Whaddya think, Jeff?”

“Hell if I know.”

“Most men just ain’t too modest.” Robert who was dressed in chinos, deck shoes, and an oxford shirt got the implied criticism. It looked like world war three was gonna start any minute. He glared at Mike who stared back insolently.

“Chicken fried steak, eggs, and potatoes okay for breakfast?” I asked, trying to get rid of some of the tension. Robert was getting all huffy and prissy, and the testosterone rolling off Mike was thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Sounds great to me, Jeff. You like cowboy food, Robert?”

“I love it. Jeffrey is a very competent cook.”

“That’s fantastic then! If it’s okay with you, Jeff, I’ll make some real cowboy food for us. I make a mean son of a bitch stew.”

“Um…,” I began, but before I could warn Robert away he answered.

“That sounds lovely, Michael.”

“Mike,” was the laconic answer.

By this time, I had the potatoes in the skillet. I didn’t even bother to peel them. I started breading the steaks, and heated some grease for frying them and the eggs. Robert and Mike continued to try to insult each other without really seeming to. Breakfast continued in this vein, interrupted by both of them praising the meal repeatedly. I was shocked as hell when Robert offered to clean up and waived off Mike when he asked to help.

“Well, I am gonna head off to the bunkhouse then. Maria and Sandy are supposed to come over, and José, Josh and me are makin’ a big pot of posole for dinner. You guys are comin’ aren’t ya?”

“I certainly wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Robert replied.

“Great, maybe I’ll make the son of a bitch stew tonight, too, then since you’ll be our special guest.”

“I can’t wait to try it.”

“See ya later then.” Mike grabbed his boots, put them on, and headed out the door.

“Jeffrey, just what do you see in that cretin? I feel like I was doing anthropological research.”

“He’s a friend, Robert, nothing more.”

“I see the way the two of you look at each other. He may be a friend now, but it’s very obvious that you both want to fuck each other.”

“Enough of the jealousy. Robert, I’m just trying to figure out what’s happened with us. We used to have fun times. We used to enjoy hangin’ together. But now it seems that you look down on me and everything about me.”

“Jeffrey, at first it was cute, you being a cowboy, your ‘aw shucks’ way of talking, an occasional dinner of that lard-heavy chicken fried steak with country music, rodeos, and going two-stepping. But rather than just enjoy it occasionally, you make it a lifestyle. Can’t you see just how great it would be for the two of us if you could let that go? Let this go?” He gestured around, indicating the house and ranch. “Oh we can go out to the Rawhide II to go country dancing occasionally, or watch the gay rodeo when it comes to the Bay Area. You know I really like it when you fuck me all dressed up as a cowboy, but everyday gets very tiring.”

“Robert, that’s me though. You’re asking me to become someone else. I wouldn’t be happy bein’ different. I talk the way I do because that’s how I learned. I dress the way I do because it’s comfortable and practical. I like country music. I like chicken fried steak, and chili, and beef, and biscuits. I like this place, and feel real comfortable here. Can’t you see, tryin’ to change me is gonna make me miserable?”

He stood up. At first I thought he was going to come over to me and hug me. But he headed off to the office where he’d left his laptop. “I need to do some work before this cowboy fete later. I suppose I should take a couple of Zantac so the grease we’re bound to have won’t upset my digestive system.”

“Might be a good idea.”

“Think on what I said, Jeffrey; we could be very happy and good together. And being civilized never hurt anyone.”

“Whatever. I’m goin’ out to my studio in the shed and design a couple of sculptures.” The silence between us was profound as I went to get my shirt, got my boots on, and headed out the door. I could hear the keys on Robert’s laptop as he typed.

I had started working on a new model for a sculpture a few days ago. As I molded the plasticine model on which to make the mold, I lost all track of time. Before I knew it, it was already afternoon and time to go join the party in the bunkhouse. I put things away in my studio and headed into the house; Robert had already anticipated me and was dressed in another flashy cowboy shirt and pressed jeans.

“Ready?”

“Just let me wash up. I was out working on a sculpture.” He didn’t say anything, but his sigh let me know he didn’t approve. I quickly washed my face and hands, and we headed out and across the yard to the bunkhouse. The door to the common area was open, and I could hear voices. José had returned with Sandy and Maria.

“Hey, boss! Beer for you?” José thrust a Dos Equis at me and turned to Robert. “What about you, Roberto, a beer?”

“I’m not really fond of beer, do you have anything else?”

José looked kind of startled as if to say how could anyone not like beer, but then said, “The ladies are drinking lemonade with tequila. You like one of those, Roberto?” Mike snickered from the corner at the implication José was making, but Robert didn’t catch it.

“That sounds lovely.” Robert seemed to be happy that the cowboys were being friendly to him. He was missing the undercurrent though. I’d have to keep my eyes open.

“Hey, Jeff, hey there, Robert, buddy!” Mike sauntered over and clapped Robert on the back. “I’m glad you came. I made the son of a bitch stew I told you about. It’s real cowboy chow. I hope you like it. Hey, I got an idea; let’s do shots of tequila!” Josh immediately appeared with a bottle, several shot glasses, a bowl with cut up limes, and a salt shaker.

“Hey there, Robert! Nice shirt.” Josh was now bein’ really friendly to Robert, and the girls snickered. Something was goin’ down and at Robert’s expense, but for the life of me I couldn’t see what it was now. The common room to the bunkhouse was plainly furnished, but it had obviously been cleaned. I could smell the chile and hominy in the posole, and the meaty smell of Mike’s stew. “I Got Friends in Low Places” by Garth Brooks was playing on the radio. I took the shot of tequila that was being offered and the lime. I put a little salt on my hand and passed the shaker to Robert who imitated me.

“To friends!” Sandy made the toast. We all answered, “To friends.” I winced as the caramel taste of the tequila hit followed by the sour astringency of the lime and then the clean taste of the salt. Josh was refilling my shot glass, and he and I did another shot. Mike came over and draped his arm around Robert’s shoulder.

“So good buddy, you don’t mind spicy food, do ya?”

“No. I don’t care for it as spicy as Jeffrey likes it, but I do enjoy piquant food.”

“We didn’t figure you was a wimp, but we did tone it down for the ladies. Hope you don’t mind?”

“Of course not!”

José approached me with another shot. I took it and we said in unison, “Salud.”

“Well, everyone, time to eat! Boys, each of you is gonna have two bowls since the stew is more of a guys’ dish.” Josh and José began setting out bowls of posole, tortillas, hot sauce, limes, and chopped onion. Mike was serving bowls of his stew. I noticed Josh spend a little time over one bowl, which he gave to Robert.

“Just gettin’ you some good lean meat in the posole, buddy!” he said to explain what was happening.

“Robert, try my stew and tell me what you think. It did turn out good if I have to say so myself.” Mike dipped into his own stew, and I followed. The meaty taste of son of a bitch stew was tempered a bit by a liberal amount of red chile. I had a piece of the heart and some liver in my stew. It was fork tender from long cooking. There were potatoes in the mixture, too, cooked to buttery softness.

“Mike, this is really good.”

“I told ya, Jeff, I make a mean son of a bitch stew. Let’s have another shot!”

Mike poured for me. It occurred to me that they were trying to get me drunk. I didn’t protest too much, given just what a bitch the last few weeks had been.

“What’s in son of a bitch stew Mike?” I noticed that Robert had finished most of his bowl. “I like it.”

“Well, buddy, it’s a real cowboy dish. Waddies on the range used to make it around calvin’ time. You know ‘waddie’ is just another word for cowboy, don’t ya?” Robert nodded.

“You take a fresh killed calf and put in the liver, heart, marrow gut, tripe, kidneys, and some meat, lots of onion and garlic and red chile and cook it all day. I put the balls in too. It’s my secret ingredient.” I heard Josh and José snicker as Robert turned green and pushed the bowl away. He drank a bit of his lemonade and pulled the bowl of posole toward himself.

“So what is posole then?”

“It’s a soup made with pork, hominy, and red chile. I use country style pork spare ribs,” José explained to Robert. “Like Mike said, we did leave out some of the chile for the ladies. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Robert took a spoonful of the broth.

I looked around the kitchen. On the counter where Josh had fixed the bowls was a bottle of hot sauce called Da Bomb. It was a sauce fortified with the chemical which makes chile pepper hot. Robert was turning a shade of red-purple. I could see sweat breaking out on his brow.

José had a very concerned look on his face. “It’s not too hot is it? We made it mild for the ladies.” At this both Maria and Sandy had a spoonful.

“Uh… no, uh… may I have some water, please?” Josh jumped up and got Robert a glass of water.

“Robert, you don’t have to eat it if it’s too hot.”

“Nonsense, Jeffrey!” He took another bite and continued to look tortured. I could see this was gonna be an interesting night, so I asked for another shot. Sandy and Maria did a shot with me. I leaned over and whispered in Robert’s ear.

“They’re funnin’ with ya again. Just keep bein’ friendly back; pretty soon, you’ll all be laughin’ together.”

“Don’t worry, Jeffrey, they’re not gonna get the best of me.”

“Don’t get in a pissin’ contest with ’em, okay?” He ignored me.

By the time we were done eating, I was drunk. I’m a happy drunk, so I ended up singing with Mike, although nothing so raunchy as “The Old Jism Trail.” We sang “Ten Rounds with Jose Cuervo” and “Jose Cuervo (You Are a Friend of Mine).” Robert got this pained look on his face and asked where the bathroom was. Josh directed him, and as soon as he was out of earshot, everyone started laughing. He came back and made his excuses and started to head back up to the house. I got up to follow him, but by this time was pretty unsteady on my feet. Mike jumped up to help me.