Ashes to Ashes
Page 16
Durango finished preparing his tea and an English muffin with sugar free strawberry jam before traipsing into his home office around the corner of his downstairs hallway. Luckily the pain from stepping on Gage’s Legos was only momentary and he regained his abilities to walk on both feet once again. Twangy sounds emanated from the computer tower below his desk as wisps of steam fogged the lenses of his readers while tipping his mug to take a sip. He reached into his file cabinet to recover the folder with his medical statements while his computer finished booting up.
This process would invariably take a decent five or six minutes, because if Durango Walters is known for by his close friends and family—without a doubt it is his aversion to technological advancements. He didn’t own the latest and greatest cellular phone. In fact, his current Motorola Razor phone went out of style nearly ten years ago. His computer was a crimson red Compaq, and though the original monitor quit working, the only new components to his home computing were an LCD monitor and he was hardwired into the cable modem with a CAT5 ethernet cord. On multiple occasions, his brother John poked fun at how Durango lived the life of a contemporary Jew. But the only thing which connected him to the world of Judaism were the doctors who treated him at Mt. Sinai when he was in Denver for a Pharmaceutical conference on the advancements of pediatric psychotropic agents.
Durango’s abysmal focus set in on the recognizable magenta and blue branding which was not only painted on the very coffee cup in front of him, but also the statement within his grasp. His eyes shifted down from the Mt. Sinai Health logo and the dates of his visit to the facility gained his attention.
June 6, 2017 through June 14, 2017
Whatever inhibitions he had just minutes earlier about calling Maxwell had certainly become obsolete by then. He fumbled the various papers atop the surface of his desk as he searched for his cellphone. That fact a still operational landline phone on the corner edge of his lacquered pine desk was relatively moot, since he hadn’t had much time to memorize Max’s number. However, it occurred to Durango in that very moment that his flip-phone was probably wedged between a seat inside his vehicle.
With not a single moment to spare, he leapt to his feet and rushed out the front door toward his parked car in the driveway—all the while his robe coming undone in the process. The surface chill of his pavement helped soothe the almost faded twinge of discomfort in the sole of his foot while the brisk morning autumn air nipped at his exposed pecs. Of course, when a person is in a hurry to unlock their vehicle door, it’s no surprise they muddle with the keys which almost always leads to them falling straight to the ground. He bent over to scoop them up and thumbed to the appropriate door key, placing it steadily in the lock’s chamber.
After rummaging around the entire driver’s side, Durango spotted his phone, which had almost become entirely swallowed up, underneath the seat. He shimmied his fingers between the phone and the metal portion of the adjustable seat, completely revealing the extinct device. While dated a Motorola Razor phone was in the years of society avoiding personal phone calls like the plague—its capability of holding a very solid charge outranked its technological descendants. Durango climbed inside while scrolling through his phone call history to dial Maxwell, who was already a couple hours ahead of the Western seaboard. While the seemingly lengthy rings were enough to cause a mild anxiety attack, he was already trying to catch his breath as his free hand rested between the steering wheel and his chest.
The other end of the call picked up and Maxwell’s tender voice could be heard through the earpiece. Finally. Fucking finally!
“Hello?” Maxwell answered.
Durango drew half a breath. “Took you long enough to answer. Christ, you must be busy.”
An audible chuckle helped put the mental health professional’s nerves at ease. Well, barely.
“Yeah, I’m sitting here at IHOP with Lily and my sister,” Max replied. “Hurry up, babe, finish your apple juice and follow Mellie into the bathroom to wash up.”
“Oh, yeah,” Durango said, looking into his rearview mirror to notice his overly prying neighbor Karen appearing to act like she is checking her mail. Yes, on a Sunday.
Max continued. “Yeah, so what are you doing?”
“I thought you’d be buried under piles of cardboard and crumpled newspaper by now,” Durango replied, intending for his grin to be heard through the phone.
“Well, I was yesterday. But we finished packing Melanie’s apartment and we’re already on the road. We should be back in Seattle by Tuesday, Wednesday at the latest.”
“Hey, I don’t want to bring up any bad memories or anything. Especially while you’re on the road,” Durango assured, combing his jittery fingers through his salt and peppered bed head. “But when did you say your husband passed, again?”
A brief pause silenced the connection. “Oh ummm, June 9th technically. Since the wreck was before midnight.”
Durango glanced down at the vertical scar which ran the length of his torso and he felt the fluttering from inside, return once more that morning as an unexpected tear gently made its way down his left cheek.
“Oh I thought that was it,” Durango paused, feeling incredibly lightheaded and suddenly short of breath. “I thought so…”
Heavy aromas of sugar cookies and peppermint extract traveled throughout the entire bottom potion of the new Williams Seattle homestead. Meanwhile, the hint of laughter ran up and down the hallways which connected the kitchen with the main living area, back through the large dining room, and around into the backside of the kitchen once more. Maxwell found himself adding more wood to the fireplace and let out a wide, satisfying breath of air. His senses were working overtime, and he thought of Brogan and how happy he would be to see Lily playing with a new friend she’d made upon relocating from Denver. Soon enough, the patters of four feet were heard making their umpteenth round through the hallway. Lily stopped running around and darted to the leather sectional in the main living room.
“Maxie, can I talk to you alone please?” she questioned, leaping up into the ample cushions. “Gage, go put that away. We’re not playing Lego’s anymore, okay?” she insisted, pointing toward the hallway which led to the front staircase.
Maxwell placed the metal grate back up to the opening of the hearth and stepped over toward the couch, noticing Lily patting the cushion next to her.
“Honey bee, you be nice to Gage, he’s your special friend, remember?”
Lily rolled her eyes. “Boys are so exhausting.”
Max couldn’t help but chuckle. Lily was certainly wiser beyond her years in so many aspects, it was like he was sometimes talking to Carrie Bradshaw from ‘Sex and the City.’ As he planted himself comfortably next to the seven-year-old going on thirty, Gage was heard trailing up the stairs with his Lego rendition of a spaceship.
“Oh sweetheart, I know. You know, I am one of those boys, too,” he chuckled, gently nudging his elbow into her ribcage.
“I know, but I thought of this today and wanted to ask you first,” she started, holding her fingers up to her chin. “Do you think Daddy would be okay if I called you my Daddy? I feel like you are. So is it okay?”
The immensity of this situation warmed his soul even more than the flames roaring from the fire across the room. Max figured this was coming sooner or later, he didn’t realize that it would be in this precise moment, just before Christmas of the same year they’d be celebrating without Brogan. He knew inside without a shadow of a doubt, that Brogan would embrace her calling him Daddy, because he was in every sense of the word. And he never rushed it on Lily, because when the time was right, she’d ask him about it.
He curled his left arm around her tiny body and squeezed her into his side tight. “Of course, sweetheart. I am just like Daddy, I have always been a part of your life. We just taught you to call me Uncle Max, to avoid confusing you at any point. But whatever you’re comfortable calling me, is just fine with me,” he assured her, lowering his chin to the top of he
r head to plant a kiss.
Lily took that opportunity to finish giving Maxwell as giant hug as she could, given she was one-fourth his size. “I love you Daddy Max, he would be so proud of you.”
Maxwell really couldn’t place his finger on where she was coming with all this adult talk. He honestly didn’t expect this conversation for a couple years in the very least. But on the other hand, he realized that she was a fast learner and generally quick to catch onto things other kids her age may not have conceptualized yet.
“I love you too, Flower,” Max affirmed, feeling her pull away and tilt her head toward him. “But you don’t get to call me that, that’s only for Daddy B, okay?”
He smiled widely, accepting the short level of snark in the lighthearted manner she was probably intending it to sound. “Okay, button. You’re gonna be my munchkin.”
“That’s better,” Lily grinned, pushing herself off the couch, looking back towards Gage who already returned from one of the upstairs guest bedrooms.
“Lily! Let’s go outside,” Gage suggested. “Hi Max, I’m going to borrow Lily now. We have to go build a snow fort,” he proclaimed.
Lily rolled her eyes for the second time in five minutes. “Does it ever end?” She questioned, shrugging her shoulders. “I can’t get any peace around here.”
“Okay, but you may have a hard time without snow,” Max bit back. “Go on honey,” he nudged Lily in Gage’s direction. “Go be nice to your guest.”
Gage pointed in the direction of a window. “But it is snowing.”
Maxwell watched his mature little angel wander around the corner into the kitchen to use that door which led outside. He felt shocked that in the instant moment he was just pondering about spending the first Christmas without Brogan, their pride and joy turns up to provide even more validation, that he’s doing everything right. His wide smile lit up the already bright kitchen, as he stepped onto the shiny tile floor to catch up with his sister, who’d apparently been watching too much of The Great British Bakeoff.
He reached over the countertop where a rectangular pan of freshly baked cookies was resting, short wisps of steam still rising from the hot tin.
“Nuh uhh, I don’t think so, Mister,” Melanie joked, swatting Max’s hands away. “They’re not even cooled for icing yet.”
Maxwell was so overjoyed about his interaction with ‘Lil, that he wanted to share it with his sister. He began to speak, but the words couldn’t finish coming out before the interruption of his ringing phone broke his thought process.
“Where did I leave it this time?” Max wailed, traipsing around looking for his device which apparently was last placed on the mantle in the living room.
He yelled over his shoulder, as he hurried into the other room. “I didn’t think having this big of house would mean we’d lose track of our phones!”
Once Max located his phone, he answered as soon as he spotted Durango’s name flashing with a photo of his handsomely grinning face just below.
“Yeah, hon. I know,” Durango spoke into the phone.
He’d been sitting in the waiting area of his doctor’s office for the past thirty minutes, without so much as a hint of being next to be called back. This is usually how his appointments went, as it usually did for anyone on their crappy HMO’s.
“Yep, still waiting,” he confirmed, looking at his watch for the twelfth time since sitting down. “Is Gage behaving without me?”
Maxwell’s tender voice set Durango at ease. “Yeah, he’s doing great, as he always does.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear that.”
“He’s a good kid, just like his daddy,” Maxwell’s smile was apparent.
Durango could tell that Max’s disposition switched slightly from before he had to leave for his doctor’s appointment. This was one aspect he hadn’t shared with Max yet. The fact he’d just had a heart transplant didn’t seem to ever come up in conversation previously, especially not since he realized that he was the lucky bastard whose life was saved at the generosity of Dr. Brogan Baxter. That spine-chilling night in June when Maxwell was saying his goodbyes to his husband, Durango was praising the heavens for the miracle he’d just received within a day of his old heart failing during a conference in Denver. But no matter how hard Durango tried to tell Max about this discovery before, he couldn’t find the appropriate time to just spill the beans without some form of interruption or another.
A nurse in mint green scrubs was spotted, rounding the corner of the reception area. “Mr. Walters.”
“Hey doll, I gotta go. I’ll call you when I’m on the way back, okay?” Durango didn’t allow an extra moment pass before he’d clasped his phone shut.
He let out a sigh, as he rose from the chair. “Finally, what’s the hold up?”
“Sorry, Mr. Walters. Dr. Casey was late getting into the office, from a patient emergency.”
Durango held out his hand. “Oh I understand. I was just about to blame my insurance company again,” he laughed, making fun conversation with Sarah, who was obviously showing her best attempts at corny patient humor.
“If you have a seat up here,” she instructed, pointing to the exam table. “He’ll be in with you in just a moment.”
“Sure thing, Sarah. Thanks,” he obliged, hopping up just to wind up sitting and waiting again.
Not but two minutes passed, and Durango already heard the double knock on the door as Dr. James Casey entered the exam room, closing the door behind him.
“Looks like you’re in tip top shape, my friend,” Dr. Casey offered, looking over Durango’s chart. “I’d say you’re back in the swing of things,” he added, continuing to drag his finger upward on the electronic tablet.
“Good enough for getting,” Durango asked, using air quotes—“getting frisky?”
The doctor let out a chuckle. “You probably could’ve had sex a month or two ago, in all honesty.”
Durango looked into the palm of his hand as it met the sides of his temple. “So you’re telling me I could have two months ago? When I almost lost all control and went for it, but told myself to go slow?”
Dr. Casey looked blankly into Durango’s eyes. “Yeah?”
“Oh I guess you didn’t know, I never told anyone yet. Not even him,” Durango replied, feeling embarrassed that he was sounding moderately crazy to his cardiologist.
“I suppose you didn’t, my friend,” the doc assured, planting himself into the round black stool used widely in every doctor’s office, everywhere.
“It’s a good thing you’re sitting down and I’ll do my best to give the nutshell version,” Durango chortled. “So I met this wonderful guy a few months ago. He lives in Denver. His husband was a cardiologist who died in June. The night of my transplant…”
“Great Scott!” Dr. Casey gasped. “Is it?...”
“… it is,” Durango confirmed. “This heart once belonged to the late husband of the guy I’m seeing.”
Dr. Casey appeared speechless.
“So, we’re heading over to Vancouver tomorrow morning, to celebrate a little holiday for the two of us, before we celebrate with our kids.”
“And this guy has no idea yet?”
Durango shook his head. “I haven’t had a minute to tell him without some type of interruption. It’s literally been since before Thanksgiving when I tried telling him the first time.”
“Wow. Just wow. In the twenty years I’ve been a doctor, that’s got to be the first time I’ve heard of that happening outside of a movie.”
“Yeah, so when I asked if I’m strong enough for sex, I am asking if it’s strong enough to finally break the news to him,” he alluded, pulling his jacket back over his shoulders. “I have no idea how he’s going to take it.”
Dr. Casey stood back to his feet. “Well pal, good luck. And I don’t think I need to see you for a couple months, so Merry Christmas also,” he added, kicking the stool back under the small counter and sink.
“Thanks. See you in February then?”
The next morning arrived quickly as Maxwell prepared to pack his suitcase for a couple days of warm clothes, his swim trunks and a special gift he found to give Durango while on their getaway weekend in Vancouver. Many thoughts flooded through his mind as he found himself, yet again hitting the road. Be it as it may, sticking in one place for longer than a few weeks proved to be a challenge for the former fashion photographer who was so accustomed to jetting off from Denver to London, from London to Sydney, from Sydney back home—just to wind up with a brand-new cyclic itinerary in another couple weeks.
But this trip, was perhaps one of the most sentimental ones he figured he’d probably be taking. He and Durango hadn’t actually gone past cuddling, and while they’d shared the same bed several nights in a row at a time, they never yet consummated their relationship. Max figured this probably had a lot to do with the fact both their kids were always under the same roof, because it always seemed easier for Durango to stay over in the for all intents-and-purposes McMansion, over that of his smaller home. Regardless of size and the fact Lily’s room and the guest bedrooms could be seen as a mile to a snail, he wondered if it just seemed weird to Durango. This was after all, the psychologist’s first relationship where he could embrace it seriously as a gay man.
“Don’t worry, munchkin. We’re not going away for long. You and Gage are going to have a blast with Aunt Mel,” Max assured her, as he placed a hunter green cashmere sweater at the top of his already full suitcase.
Lily sat in the center of Max’s large bed and looked down at the pile with another matured concerning look. “How much do you really know about this guy?”
Her question sent Maxwell to his knees in laughter, figuratively speaking. He couldn’t believe that yet another loaded question referring to the complexities of adulthood would escape from her innocent lips—lips that he didn’t ever imagine touching anything so much as food, pillows or her teddy bears.