The Handyman's Summer

by Nick Poff

  Saturday, September 17, 1960

  After a week of silence from Ernie he showed up here early this morning to fix the leaky pipe under the kitchen sink – the one he’s been promising to fix for the past month. I had a feeling the repair was some sort of unfinished business for him. I was right.

  Once the pipe had been properly sealed and he had lined the cabinet with fresh paper, he asked me to sit down. Sure enough, I was dumped in polite fashion. His mother’s interference with my work was just too close for comfort, he said. If she uncovered the truth of our relationship it would ruin us both. He said he felt we should not see each other for a while, at least until things cooled down. (Perhaps, I wanted to tell him, your hateful mother will get busy digging a hole for a bomb shelter and bury herself, but I managed to keep that to myself.)

  Well, what could I say? As much as I want him to prove his love by defying his mother and this town, I know he is right. Unless I am willing to give up my job and the responsibility of my sister’s care to run off with him, there is little I can do. Society, it seems, has us by the short hairs.

  The memory of Ernie’s last kiss lingers. I prefer to concentrate on that as opposed to the relief he seemed to feel upon his exit.

  Sunday, September 18, 1960

  Elmer Gantry finally made it to Porterfield, so I decided to treat myself to a movie and popcorn at The Strand last night. I was happily munching away and enjoying the coming attractions when Ernie came down the aisle holding the hand of a plain-faced girl wearing a nondescript dress. My guess is she’s the unmarried daughter of one of Ma Jacks’ Bircher buddies. I don’t think Ernie saw me. I hope not. I could not endure his sympathetic glance, or worse, a faked look of no recognition. As it was, the movie was ruined for me as I spent the entire time thinking of how I’d take Ernie over Burt Lancaster any day, anytime.

  Thursday, September 22, 1960

  I miss Ernie more than I can say. I spend my lonely evenings marking papers and working on lesson plans and little more. I retire early, but I do not sleep, as I am too busy fantasizing about Ernie lying next to me.

  Cold logic dictates that I find gratitude in losing a man who fears his mother. If, somehow, we were able to be together, would he collapse in a similar way in a crisis? You’re better off, I tell myself a thousand times a day, but as Miss Connie Francis sings on the radio these days, “My heart has a mind of its own”.

  Rick turned to the next page, frowned, and began thumbing through the remainder of the notebook. “Blank,” he announced. “I guess he was so depressed he didn’t feel like writing anymore.” He turned to Ed. “Are you happy now?”

  “Of course not,” Ed protested. “I didn’t want them to break up, I just assumed they would. What really sucks is that Mother Jacks managed to break them up and she didn’t even know about their relationship.”

  “Maybe,” Rick said thoughtfully. “Could be she did know, and this was her roundabout way of killing the relationship.”

  “Why would she do that? Wouldn’t it be easier to just out Daniel and get rid of him?”

  “And then be known as the John Bircher with a gay son? Don’t think so.” Rick slammed the book shut and put in on the bed between them.

  “Well, unless we dig up Gladys’s diary I guess we’ll never know,” Ed said with resignation. “But we still have Daniel’s Book 4. Maybe something happened to change it all. Shall we start reading it and see what happens?”

  Rick stared at the ceiling where a fan, installed their first summer in Penfield Manor, spun in lazy circles. “No, not right now. Let’s wait a bit. Right now I’m frustrated and a little depressed myself.” He slammed a fist on the bed. “Dammit! I am so fucking sick of people like us being…being oppressed!”

  “What can you do about it?” Ed asked reasonably. “Is this any different than Muriel asking me if I wanted to take on the Catholic Church? Unless you want to borrow Marty McFly’s DeLorean and go back and rewrite history, we’re stuck with it.”

  Ed reached for Rick’s hand. “Darlin’, we’re doing what we can. Look at it this way. We’re together. Things have gotten a little better since 1960.”

  Rick looked at Ed soberly. His warm and tender smile, the one he reserved for Ed, spread across his face. He tossed the notebook aside and scooted closer to Ed. “I am very, very grateful for that, baby,” he said, putting his arms around Ed.

  Ed kissed him softly and stroked his hair. “What was it Gordy once said about us, something about the two of us together being a force to be reckoned with? Knowing about Daniel and Ernie and what they had to deal with only makes that force stronger, you know. I don’t know about you, but at this point in time if anyone even tried to fuck with us and what we have, they’d get the full fury of Typhoon Ed.”

  “And Typhoon Rick.” Rick returned Ed’s kiss. “You’re right. Despite what my heart’s mind is nattering about, I know all we can do is keep trying to avenge the Daniels and the Ernies. Meanwhile,” Rick’s hand slid down Ed’s chest and past the waistband of his shorts. “I have no intention of fantasizing about my man lying next to me. He is, and I intend to take full advantage of it.

  “I’m up for that.” Ed grinned as he Rick’s hand reached its destination. “But you just figured that out, didn’t you?”

  “Umm,” Rick moaned. His mouth locked onto Ed’s. Their lips parted and their tongues met. “Baby,” he whispered, “this one’s gonna be for Daniel and Ernie, and it’s gonna be epic.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  July eventually melted into August, and things seemed to calm down at Penfield Manor. Ed was experiencing his annual approval of early August. Summer always seemed to be pausing to gather strength for its finale at this time, he thought. The crops were quietly ripening, allowing farmers to concentrate on other chores, and for the lucky ones, actual vacations. The petunias and geraniums in the yards all through Porterfield were at their peak, adding cheerful color to the green lawns. The lightning bugs were thinning out, but the noisy insects – cicadas and crickets and others – had begun their constant drone, a reminder to humans that despite the continued heat and humidity, autumn was not far off.

  Rex was busy with his redecorating chores at the Cooley Street house. Neal was putting in long hours at The Iceberg. Ed was back to his regular handyman schedule, and Rick racked up more miles on the Camaro hauling Kelsey-Daniel executives from one end of Porterfield to another.

  “The logic of their company officers escapes me,” Rick said to Ed one evening. “They shuffle people from Missouri to Indiana, and then swap them out again. I hate to think of the money they budget for moving expenses.”

  “They probably take it out of the line workers’ paychecks,” said Ed, a former factory worker.

  “Probably,” Rick agreed. “The other thing that puzzles me is why all these new people want to buy houses. Considering the boomerang effect in job assignments you’d think they’d just rent apartments and call it a day.”

  “If you were making an executive salary would you want to rent any of the apartments available in Porterfield?”

  Rick nodded. “Good point. Also, I guess, it’s nicer for their kids to have houses with yards. Ah well,” he sighed, “it seems to be slowing down now that August is here. Hopefully I’ll have plenty of time to goof off while Doug is here.”

  Everyone was looking forward to Doug’s visit, including Effie Maude, who went into a frenzy of cleaning and meal planning for “my Dougie”, as she called him. She even made up both twin beds in the remaining room so Doug could have his choice. “Can you imagine her doing something like that for us?” Ed said to Rick out of her earshot.

  “Maybe we should move away and come back and see what kind of reception we get,” Rick chuckled.

  Doug called Monday evening to tell them he would be arriving the next afternoon. “My mother’s letting me use her car for the week, but once I’m there I fully expect to be hauled around in that convertible I’ve heard so much about.”

  That eveni
ng Ed was fishing around in his bedside table drawer for a pair of nail clippers when his gaze fell on Daniel’s notebooks. Neither Ed nor Rick had made any move to continue reading them. Somehow the ending of Book 3 had soured them both on the project. It didn’t seem to matter quite as much as before, and Ed, for one, was no longer at all sure they’d learn the identity of Evie’s mysterious benefactor.

  Rex was making steady progress on his work at Evie’s house, and the bigger jobs for the new roof and HVAC updates had been scheduled and would be completed by the end of the month. Ed had already told Rick he could probably put the house on the market by late September. Maybe, Ed thought, it would be best to simply finish the work, sell the house, collect the profit, and move on.

  He had to admit to himself, though, that he was still curious. “Maybe after Doug’s visit,” he muttered, closing the drawer. “Maybe then we’ll be ready to dig into it again.”

  ###

  When Doug pulled into the driveway the next day, Ed, Rick and Effie Maude were there to greet him. Shorter and slighter than Ed and Rick, he alighted from the car, his thick blond hair and his attractive shirt and trousers crisp and impeccable. Ed did not know if it was a result of his stint in the army or the demands of his funeral home job, but Doug always looked his best.

  “Hey, what a welcoming committee!” He exclaimed as everyone gathered around him. Ed reached into the car for his overnight bag while Effie Maude told him she had his favorite smothered pork chops and mashed potatoes planned for dinner. Rick, hands on hips and a big grin on his face, said, “Did you really dress like that just to visit us?”

  “Force of habit,” Doug laughed. “I swear there’s nothing but t shirts and shorts and a pair of flip flops in that bag.”

  “Dougie’s always been real careful with his appearance.” Effie Maude defended him. Ever since Doug had made a special trip to Porterfield to attend to every detail of Mrs. Penfield’s funeral, he could do no wrong in Effie Maude’s eyes. “You boys should take a lesson!”

  “Thanks a lot, man.” Ed swung the overnight bag into Doug’s leg. “Now we’re probably gonna have to pass inspection before we can leave the house every morning.”

  “Oh, hush, you,” Effie Maude said, giving Ed a playful swat with her apron. “You get that bag upstairs and get this young man settled for a rest after that long drive.”

  “You do look kinda tired,” Ed said once they were upstairs in the girls’ room and Doug had flopped onto the bed by the window. “Have they been working you too hard at that fancy funeral home?”

  “Well, you know,” Doug said, stretching lazily. “It always seems to come in clusters, and this last month was one cluster after another, so yeah, I was more than ready to blow town for a while.”

  Doug sat up. “You guys look amazing.” He smiled at Ed and Rick who were perched on the other bed. “I’ve made some nice friends in Santa Fe, but it’s just not the same. I can just be so much more comfortable here.”

  Rick pulled Doug onto the bed between him and Ed. “I know what you mean,” he said. “Since Gordy moved to Fort Wayne we’ve felt a little isolated.”

  “With the mob you’ve got living here?” Doug teased.

  “Shit, that makes us feel more like house parents in the dorm of some boarding school,” Rick said with a grin. “We don’t have to set an example around you. We can be as corrupt as we want to be.”

  “Thank Gawd,” Ed said with a sigh as he collapsed on their laps.

  Everybody laughed. “It’s good to be home.” Doug rumpled Ed’s hair and squeezed Rick with an arm around his neck. “That sounds dumb since I just left my hometown and the house where I grew up, but this is different. I can’t talk with my family about anything that really matters ‘cause they get so uptight. Here I can be…just me, with my favorite people.”

  “Keep talking like that,” Ed said, “and I may have to make an anonymous phone call to Santa Fe and tell them you’re not coming back.”

  Doug sighed and looked at his friends with great affection. “Right now I wouldn’t have a problem with that.”

  ###

  Dinner that evening was relaxed and noisy with plenty of talk and laughter. Both Neal and Rex had been excited to meet the man Neal referred to as the “cool gay mortician”, and Doug played up to this new audience with stories both funny and gruesome. Effie Maude had prepared more than enough of her hearty country cooking, and everyone overate, groaned, and ate some more.

  Neal and Rex cleared the table and stacked the dishes in the kitchen before taking off for the evening. Neal was scheduled at The Iceberg and Rex was going with him to hang out in the backroom and help mix up a few extra batches of Porter Punch, which indeed had become the beverage of the summer. As they departed they were engrossed in a debate over the hotness of some guy named Jeremy, who apparently was in the habit of stopping by The Iceberg for Porter Punch after his workout at Apex.

  “Speaking of hot,” Doug said as they retired to the den. “That Rex is smokin’ hot. That long black hair and green eyes? And that bod? He looks like he walked off a Chippendale’s calendar.”

  “Dougster,” Ed said as he stretched out flat on the Persian rug, “I think you have crossed the line into dirty old man land.”

  Doug nodded agreeably as he settled on the couch next to Rick. “Can you imagine the feeding frenzy if that kid walked into a gay bar?”

  “That’s why we’re keeping an eye on him,” Rick said with a grin. “He’s a good kid, but he needs to get a little more comfortable in his own skin. That hot bod, by the way, comes from his constant working out through high school to deal with his frustration over his sexual orientation, so give him time. In the meantime, he’s channeling that drive into helping Neal feel better about his appearance. They work out together several times a week.”

  “Neal is cute, too,” Doug said. “It doesn’t slap you in the face the way it does with Rex, but he’s pretty fucking adorable in his own way.”

  “Make sure you tell him that,” Ed demanded from the floor. “It will do wonders for his self-confidence. He doesn’t believe it when we say it.”

  “Well, sure,” Doug said. “You’re like a second set of parents for him, and who the hell believes anything their parents say?”

  Everyone laughed. “You know,” Doug said, “if you think you’ll have Rex around for a while, you should put him to work as some kind of an assistant for you, Ed. You seem happy with the work he’s doing at that house you bought, and God knows there are times when you could use some help.”

  Ed and Rick looked at each and began to laugh. “Right under our noses!” Ed roared.

  “We’ve been too busy worrying about him to even think about it,” Rick gasped. “How dumb can we be?”

  Doug watched this with both amusement and mystification. “Okay, what can of worms did I open here?”

  Ed and Rick managed to calm down and explain. “I’ve been nagging Ed to hire an assistant all summer,” Rick said, wiping his eyes.

  “And I’ve been telling him to piss off all summer,” Ed said, falling back on the floor. “I’ve been saying the right person would come alone eventually. Well, guess what, darlin’? He did, but we needed someone else to point it out.”

  Rick nodded. “Let’s give it some serious thought and talk to him. As perfect as it sounds, he might have plans of his own we don’t know about.”

  “Well, consider this my houseguest gift to you guys,” Doug beamed. “I have a good feeling about it.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Ed said mockingly. “Anything we can do for you?”

  Ed looked at Doug’s face and was surprised to see the pleasure there disappear not unlike the sun in eclipse. An uneasy feeling swept through him as Doug seemed to debate whether to say what he was thinking.

  “It’s not so much what you can do for me,” Doug said carefully. “But I need to tell you something. I was going to wait until just before I left, but…maybe it’s best to deal with it now.”

  He look
ed from Rick to Ed. His body tightened as he whispered, “I’m HIV positive.”

  Ed felt his stomach collapse, and knew from the look on Rick’s face he was having a similar reaction. “Oh, Doug,” Ed murmured.

  “That’s the first time I’ve said it out loud,” Doug said in a strained voice. “I’ve known for two months, but I haven’t said it out loud. I couldn’t make myself say it or tell anyone until I got here. I figured it would be safe to say it here and…”

  Doug burst into tears. Rick pulled him close and put his arms around him, obviously as shaken as Ed was, who felt nailed to the floor. Doug sobbed against Rick’s chest as Ed and Rick looked at each other in mutual shock.

  “I’m scared,” Doug managed to choke out. “And I’m so worried about Gordy. What if I’ve had this since we were together? What if…” He broke down again.

  “Gordy’s okay,” Rick said quietly. “So is Pete. We’ve all been tested and we’re all okay.”

  Ed managed to pull himself up from the floor. He stood on shaky legs, all sorts of thoughts rocketing through his mind, none of them particularly productive. He finally went across the hall to the bathroom and grabbed the Kleenex box, the only thing he could think to do.

  Doug accepted a wad of tissue from Ed and blew his nose. The sobs ceased as he wiped his eyes. “Sorry about your wet shirt, man,” he croaked.

  “It’ll dry,” Rick said soothingly. “You needed that, little brother. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you waited until you were here. You know you’re always safe with us.”