Ashes to Ashes

by Jason Banks

  Durango saw Max wave him back to their table. He stepped beyond the other rows of patrons enjoying their meals and while the perspiration seemed to dry from his forehead, his pulse was certainly just getting started.

  “I didn’t take too long, did I?” Durango asked, pulling out the seat opposite Max.

  Max smiled. “Not at all, I just sort of got down here, myself.”

  Durango sat in his chair and scooted a bit closer to the edge of the table as a waiter stepped towards him.

  “Good evening, sir, I’m Jackson,” the waiter offered a generous smile. “Can I interest you in our house wine tonight?”

  “Sure, that sounds lovely,” Durango was quick to reply, not glancing in Max’s direction. “I’ll have a glass of whatever it is. Red, white, rose, it doesn’t matter to me.”

  Jackson twisted his head towards to Maxwell. “And a glass for you as well?”

  Maxwell stammered. “Uh, no thanks,” he replied, shaking his hands atop the table as if he were about to have a seizure. “I’ll just have a Pepsi, light ice please.”

  “As you wish,” Jackson obliged. “I’ll give you two a while longer to look over the menu,” he added, beginning to step away from the table.

  Durango got the sense perhaps drinking in front of the man would be seen as some sort of unprofessional display. “Sir,” he waved the waiter down before he’d gotten too far away.

  “Yes sir?”

  Durango outstretched his open palm. “I’ll just have a Sprite or something, disregard the wine, please.”

  Max held out his hands. “Please, by all means. Have what you’d like.”

  Durango clicked his tongue. “Okay, yeah, sorry. I’ll have the wine after all.”

  While the waiter skipped across the dining room towards the kitchen area, Durango was sure he’d seen a couple eye rolls before the man left their table that second time.

  “So, I brought some information and references from past clients’ parents,” Durango started, realizing full well that he forgot all the paperwork in his car. It wasn’t so much forgetfulness, as much as it was probably the universe sending him a big fat sign that he’s supposed to delve into the potential relationship this could turn out for him. He felt it the minute he stepped onto the pavement from Starbucks the previous night.

  Maxwell placed an open hand on the tabletop, in the direction of Durango. “It’s okay, I have a feeling that things are going more personal than they are professional…”

  “But,” Durango interjected abruptly.

  Max shook his head. “It’s okay, I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he admitted, closing his eyes momentarily. “I have a confession, I’d like to bring forth if that’s okay.”

  The fact that Maxwell seemed to be feeling the same intense connection as he did, sent shivers down Durango’s spine. Not out of fear, but out of confirmation that he wasn’t losing his marbles and just lusting after a man who may never turn out to be more than a business contact. Technically, this sort of thing happened to Durango before. With the father of a client back when he was married to Cassandra. However, out of respect for his marriage and the fact he’d started a family with her, he pushed those feelings so deep into the ground, they wouldn’t have a chance of surfacing ever again. Ironically enough, Tom Spencer was one of the dutiful references on his paperwork for prospective clients.

  “It’s okay, go ahead. I’m all ears,” Durango offered, giggling slightly because he responded how he typically would in his office with a juvenile client of his. “I mean,” he couldn’t help but fight back the next chortle about to escape from his windpipe. “Sorry, I mean yes, please go on. Not in the capacity as if you were a client, I just realized how silly that sounded.”

  Durango’s thoughts kept his demeanor at bay. Buck the fuck up, dude. You’ve been out of the game for a while now, but you’re starting to come off a bit looney.

  “Well,” Max started. “The moment we met at the coffee house a couple nights ago, I felt this intense feeling of some sort that I needed to get to know you,” he paused, sipping some water from his glass, holding out his forefinger. “And not because you told me you were gay, I’m not some sex craved animal that wants to romp every guy who comes out to him. I mean, it helped a little bit I guess, but…”

  “I get it,” Durango replied, smiling widely.

  “What I’m saying is, clearly we were supposed to meet on my trip to Seattle. It’s not a coincidence that I get these intense feelings about wanting to know who you are as a person during the same week I find the perfect new home for Lily and me to move into. Not to mention that if it weren’t for Dirk Halstead, none of this would have been happening. I had the wild hair up my butt to seek for homes in Phoenix. Do you know how hot shit gets in Phoenix?”

  “Not as hot as you are,” Durango stated nonchalantly.

  Max raised his arms and practically shouted. “See? You totally get this too!”

  It wasn’t but a matter of a couple minutes and Jackson returned to their table with a tall glass of Pepsi and Durango’s glass of White Zinfandel.

  “Compliments of the Matre D, Sir,” Jackson offered, placing the glass gently on top of the black table cloth. “He just returned from a trip to Colorado where his family owns a very lush winery in Mesa County.”

  Both men blurted in unison, “Get outta here!”

  Durango turned his head momentarily to stare into Max’s gaze as they locked eyes in shock they’d just said the same three words to their waiter at the same time. Though quick, the glance in Max’s eye helped provide even more confirmation that this was headed in some sort of right direction. If fate existed, then certainly this is what the universe had in store for him at this stage of his life.

  “That’s where I’m from,” Durango claimed, turning his head back to the waiter. “I was raised in Grand Junction. How funny.”

  Jackson nodded his head and smiled. “You don’t say?”

  Max raised a hand. “And I’m from Denver,” he added, grabbing the glass of soda. “Well actually I’m from Carmel, Indiana. But I currently live in Denver.”

  The waiter retrieved his order pad from his apron. “Well isn’t that something, fellas. Have you decided on what you both would like to order?”

  “I’ll eat anything that moo’s, so if you have a nice prime rib to offer. Then, I’m easy.”

  Max stalled, quickly perusing the menu one last time. “Yeah, you know what? That sounds good. I’ll have whatever he does.”

  Both men folded their menus and handed them over to Jackson. “Very well, gentleman. I’ll put this in promptly.”

  “You currently live in Denver for only a short while longer, that is,” Durango added, swirling his wine glass in a circular motion to take in the notes of his white wine.

  Max placed his soda glass down. “Well yeah, I offered a little more on that place than the asking price just to ensure I get it. I’d say we’ll be moved in a month, tops. I wanna make sure Lily starts school here from the beginning term.”

  “That’s a smart idea. Gage hasn’t known what it’s like outside the Washington School Districts, so I don’t know anything about how other systems operate.”

  “Similar, I’d think. But anyway, so now that you know I have feelings for you. I suppose we should probably figure out other arrangements for Lily’s new therapy provider.”

  “Aheh,” Durango giggled. “You could say that. Don’t worry, I have many connections here. That won’t be a problem.”

  “Not as big of a problem as dealing with the Baxter brood in Paris. It’s a living nightmare,” Max admitted, placing a palm up to his face.

  “Shhh,” Durango offered. “Take a break from the drudgery, things will work out, okay?”

  Max rolled his eyes. “Well you don’t know the half of it.”

  “So why don’t I find out now?”

  Max took in another gulp of his Pepsi before swallowing and letting in a huge breath of air. “Not here, not in public,” he pleaded, sh
aking his head.

  “Okay, so we can have a night cap after dinner, eh?” Durango raised an eyebrow.

  “Sounds like a better plan, I mean if you really care to hear the long story,” Max acknowledged.

  There were several thoughts to run through Durango’s mind. His heart, his whole body shivered in anticipation wanting to hear the whole story. Hungry to hear what Max has been through as a person, and how he can be of help in the younger man’s new journey he seemed to be traveling down. And heaven only knows how much Durango was needing someone to come into his life as a gay man, someone to nurture—to take care of tenderly in a capacity he’d always yearned to. There probably wasn’t anything about Max and his life that he hadn’t already heard, especially since he was a child psychologist—he’d dealt with a variety of different cases and helped not only the kids, but their parents through it all as well. The dark cloud that seemed to wander over Maxwell William’s head wasn’t going to produce any amount of rain that he wasn’t already prepared to wipe up.

  An audible ding from the elevator of the hotel lobby could be heard all the way down the hall at the entrance of the in-house restaurant. Max couldn’t be sure whether his tummy was satisfied after having a full meal from the busy day of toting all over what seemed like the entire state of Washington, or if it was happy nerves that he was headed up to his hotel room with a man and it felt ‘just right.’ Despite the serious in the situation, he couldn’t but feel this was becoming a test performed via Goldilocks style. Albeit, this was only the second man after Trevan, whom he brought up with him nights before, so he hoped against hope that it wouldn’t require a third trial.

  “Did you get enough to eat?” Durango asked, turning his head.

  Maxwell took in the sights of his gleaming smile. It wasn’t necessarily the smile which caught him off guard, as much as it was the words being spoke. Max couldn’t help but remember how Brogan would always ask him the same, after almost every meal.

  “Yeah, I’m plain stuffed. Thanks,” he replied warmly, taking the man’s hand in his as they schlepped toward the elevators. “Thanks for the night cap, I always enjoy company when I’m away from home.”

  Durango’s manly baritone voice exuded in a sexy whisper. “Nahhh, don’t mention it. I think you’re terrific.”

  “I think you’re pretty okay, too,” Max replied, full well chewing internally on how cheesy that may have sounded.

  Another ding of the elevator chimed throughout the cabin inside and both men felt the jolt push them up several floors. Max’s clutch tightened with Durango’s as he felt Durango rubbing his thumb across the back of his clasped hand. This was not an unfamiliar sensation, as Brogan would do this quite often too. It was one of those unspoken traits that he learned to pick up on, but the gentle caress of another man’s finger brushing against his hand was enough to command his cock to start pitching a tent. But this night felt a tad different. For some strange reason, which Max was totally comfortable with, it didn’t seem like his package would be unwrapped by the end of the night. It actually felt so much more intensely, as this was a relationship he could learn a great deal about the other man before romping around the sheets with them. In a sense, it would mean so much more if they’d waited.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have any Rolaids up there, by chance?” Durango asked, rubbing his belly with his free right hand.

  Max clicked his tongue. “Actually, I do. It’s been a staple in my diet ever since…”

  He stopped in mid-sentence because it felt weird bringing up Brogan’s name, as he was holding another man’s hand, headed up to his hotel room where—if they weren’t going to be having sex—would still be exploring each other’s lives and exchanging in some form of gentle affection.

  “Since your husband passed?”

  “Yeah, I haven’t even really had the best appetite since then either.” Max finished, looking plainly into the floor of the elevator cabin.

  After a moment of awkward silence, low and behold, the elevator yet again broke the ice with an additional chime as its doors slid open. Hand-in-hand, Max led Durango through the hallway toward his suite. He reached into his pocket to pull out his room keycard and slid it into the lock, allowing the door to swing wide open.

  “Feel welcome to kick off your shoes,” Max advised, slipping off his shoes with his feet one at a time.

  “K.”

  ***

  Max’s suite remained dark as Durango and Max found themselves in each other’s embrace on top his bed. Though clothed, both of them removed their pants so it would feel more comfortable. Max laid on the right side of the bed, staring straight into Durango’s hushed stare, while feeling the gentle caress of the psychologist’s hands across his stubble. Max’s phone laid on the table adjacent to both men, playing songs from the Adele station on Spotify, while the dim lamps on both sides of the bed offered a calm, but ample glow.

  Durango’s hand traced Max’s cheek down to his chin. “So, what is the story of Maxwell Williams?”

  “Aheh,” Max began. “That’s quite a loaded question. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  “Start wherever you feel comfortable.”

  Max obliged, taking his left hand and clasping it with Durango’s. “Well, what I was going to say downstairs was,” he paused. “Well more of the reason I didn’t order any wine with you…”

  “Yeah?”

  “…is actually because for the past ten years, I’ve been a recovering alcoholic. So if that doesn’t scare you away…”

  Durango let out a subtle whisper. “Shhh, don’t even think that defines who you are. It was a part of your past, Max. Don’t let the decisions of yesterday determine what is destined for your future.”

  Max couldn’t help but feel like there was already a giant lead blanket lifted off his shoulders. Usually, this was such a sore subject which would turn a person away from him, removing their existence from what used to be his social circle. He’d not had many friends, beyond that of Melanie and Dirk.

  “So you’re not gonna go running off because that means I have a little more baggage than you might?” Max asked with uncertainty.

  “God, no. You think I’m afraid of that?” Durango replied, sounding convincing.

  Max let out a cavernous sigh. “Well I suppose that’s about the extent of my baggage. Other than being a widower, single parent who still doesn’t have a clue how to raise a seven-year-old autistic gemstone without fearing he’s gonna make one wrong turn and what seemed like progress eventually shatters into chaos once again.”

  A lighthearted chuckle escaped through Durango’ s mouth. “You think I don’t have baggage?” he retorted, raising his hand to rub his forehead. “You might have in-laws trying to gain custody of Lily, and now I understand your fears there, I do…” he paused to let in a breath of air. “But do you think for one second I don’t have in-laws who’ve hated me for several years because I ruined their baby girl’s life by admitting I was gay? Especially after bringing a child into the world with her?”

  Max nodded his head against the pillow it was resting gently on. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. That’s got to be hard.”

  “Damn hard, Max. And it’s not to say that the hand I’ve been dealt is any less weighted than yours, that’s not at all what I am saying,” he said, with a glimmering wink. “Life just happens, honey. And we can’t always be the one to knock things out with a full house. The river just keeps flowing.”

  Max snickered. “Sorry, the gambling euphemisms are just too much. I don’t play poker or anything.”

  “Hah,” Durango offered. “Sorry, I guess I’m showing my interests too much, eh?”

  “Are you Canadian?” Max asked, trying to change the subject on something to where he could start learning a bit more about the man who seemed to embrace every shattered piece of his soul as if it was just par for the course.

  “Yeah, actually. While I am from Colorado, my family had to relocate to Canada when my father had to take
up a different department with his job. We’d been there for almost twelve years before we moved back to Grand Junction.”

  “Sexy. I don’t think I really know any Canadians,” Max chortled. “I mean, other than you, now.”

  Durango smiled again. “A great deal of crucial years developmentally for me was spent there in Nova Scotia. So it’s always been a part of me. That’s why some of the accents and colloquialisms have sort of stuck, I guess. I consider Canada to be my home away from home. I have many friends all over those parts.”

  “Do your parents approve of your sexuality now?” Max asked.

  The older guy turned his head toward the ceiling. “They’ve been gone for a couple years. But, for the most part. My dad didn’t take to it as quick as my mother. He always expected me to grow up according to his standards of what being a boy meant. While I did partake in the recreational pleasures which he hoped I’d enjoy, the truth is, I never really liked any of it.”

  Max nodded. “Yeah, I never enjoyed getting my hands dirty. Hunting. Fishing. The whole gamut. Never would even try it.”

  Max reached his arm around Durango’s backside and pulled the man in closer for another warm hug. Even though both men remained in their shirts, Max could feel the thrash of Durango’s heartbeat. He let in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, with much approval and satisfaction knowing that he hadn’t scared away the man with his darker than usual past.