The Handyman's Dream

by Nick Poff

  Toolbox in hand, Ed entered the house through the front hall. He peered into the family room, where his brother-in-law was parked in his recliner, intent on a televised football game. Todd Ames, a short, dark-haired, attractive man, was usually just as calm and good-natured as his wife, which was an asset to his job as a loan officer at Porterfield First National, but he was looking a bit surly at the moment.

  “How’s it going?” Ed asked, glancing at the TV.

  Todd scowled. “Oh, IU is losing, as usual. Stupid bastards,” he hollered at the TV.

  Ed, who didn’t know a first down from a fourth, merely said, “That sucks,” and walked into the kitchen, and familiar territory. His five-year-old niece, Lesley, was running around the kitchen table, whisk broom in hand, dressed in a witch’s costume.

  “How do you expect to fly anywhere on that?” he asked her.

  Lesley paused in her circles and glared reproachfully at her mother, who was taking clothes out of the dryer.

  “This is the only broom Mommy will let me have.” She approached Ed from behind and slapped his butt with the whisk broom. “I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too!” she screamed, taking off for the family room.

  "Lesley, I told you to quit hitting people with that broom! Now go put it away for the rest of the day," Laurie shouted.

  Ed looked at his sister, who rolled her eyes at him. “Isn’t Halloween still a week away?” he asked her.

  Laurie sighed a mother’s sigh. “Not around here. It started a week ago, and she’ll probably still be wearing that outfit when we carve the Thanksgiving turkey.”

  Ed laughed as he inspected the secondhand dishwasher Laurie had convinced Todd to buy to replace the old one, which was still under the kitchen counter.

  “I made Todd promise to help you haul that thing out back when you’re done,” Laurie told him.

  “Well, first I need to turn the water off. I hope your laundry’s done,” he said.

  “Yeah, this is the last of it. Just let me get some water for coffee, then it’s all yours.”

  When Ed returned from the basement the coffeemaker was going and a glass of Pepsi waited on the counter near the dishwasher.

  “Since I knew you were coming, I bought a carton of bottles on sale at the IGA,” Laurie said, indicating the Pepsi. “I’m about half-tempted, though, to let you take the rest of it home before the kids, or Mom, finds it. The kids are wired enough as it is, and I can just hear Mom. ‘Do you want your kids to spend as much time at the dentist as you did?’”

  They both laughed. Ed looked fondly at his sister, just a year and a half younger than himself. Through the mysteries of genetics, Laurie had inherited their mother’s short stature, but their father’s dark hair and coloring. Ed was even taller than Tim Stephens had been, but had his mother’s sandy-brown hair and light complexion.

  “I’d be happy to take all the pop you have,” Ed said, thinking of his dinner company and the cans of pop he and Rick had never got around to drinking the night before. He turned to the old dishwasher, smiling.

  Laurie looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled back at him. Ed was still occasionally surprised at how close they had become as adults. To his recollection, they had passed the years 1961 through 1966 in their own form of the Cold War, speaking to each other only when absolutely necessary, then mostly in threats and demands. He happily settled to work, grateful for his sister’s friendship and their collusion together against their mother’s bossiness.

  “Where’s Bobby?” he asked now, noticing he hadn’t heard or seen his seven-year-old nephew.

  “Oh, he’s next door at the Schmidts’,” Laurie said, folding towels. “He’s totally hooked on that Pong game they have on their TV. I don’t get it”—she shrugged—“just bouncing a dot back and forth on the screen, but he loves it. Who cares, though? If the Wicked Witch of the West stays out of here, I may actually get some work done.”

  Intent on disconnecting the old dishwasher, Ed chuckled, his back to Laurie.

  “What’s up with you today?” she asked. “No offense, but you look like crap, as though you didn’t get any sleep at all, but you’re in an awfully good mood.”

  “Is that a crime?”

  “No. But it wasn’t that long ago we lived in the same house. I don’t recall you being so sunny when you’re short on sleep.”

  Ed sighed. Here it comes.

  “You have a big night last night?” she asked.

  “Oh, I was hanging out with a friend,” he mumbled, head under the counter.

  They’d never talked about it, but he wondered if Laurie knew the score with him. She’d been friends with some gay guys in business school, and she’d dropped a few subtle hints over the years.

  “Aha!” Laurie crowed, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “That explains it. All bleary eyed, but afterglowing all over the place. Is it someone from town?”

  “Geez, Laurie,” he protested, glad she couldn’t see his face.

  “Oh, come on,” she said impatiently. “I may be a mom, and Norma Stephens’s daughter, but I know afterglow when I see it. Heck, I could tell the minute you walked in here. So who is he?”

  “Um . . . ”

  “Oh, Ed, get over it! I had you figured out the minute you broke poor Cathy Carroll’s heart. I don’t care if it’s another guy. Come on! I’m your one and only sister. Details!”

  Ed pulled himself from under the counter, sighing. “First of all, I did not break Cathy Carroll’s heart. She’d pretty much written me off when I told her I was going into Marsden with Dad instead of going to college. The only reason she hung on to me was for a date to the senior prom. Secondly, I just met this guy, and I don’t want to jinx anything. So don’t make a big deal out of it, okay?”

  Which, unfortunately, piqued her interest even more. “Wow! You mean this is someone special?” she asked, eyes bright.

  Ed sat on the floor, resigned to telling her the whole story, which he did, ending with Rick’s reasons for living in Porterfield.

  “Wow,” she repeated, impressed. “I didn’t know they made men like that. We go to Dr. Wells, you know. I think his sister has cleaned my teeth. Awfully nice, as I recall. And good at her job. I had no idea she was married to Hank Romanowski. Well, for her sake I’m glad her brother’s here for her. And even gladder her brother is here for my brother.”

  “Aw, crud, Laurie, we barely know each other. Don’t go picking out wedding presents yet.”

  “Still,” she said, looking at him wisely over her coffee cup. “If the look on your face when you say his name means anything, I have a feeling he’ll be around for a while.”

  Ed’s usual blush spread over his face. He returned to his dishwasher chore. “If we’re going to be all open and honest here,” he said, inspecting the hoses on the new dishwasher, his back to her, “I’m glad you’re okay with all this, but what do you think Mom thinks about it?”

  She didn’t say anything, so Ed turned around to face her. “Well?”

  Laurie shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve never talked about it. Your guess is as good as mine. But I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  Ed stared at her in disbelief.

  “Oh, I know Mom’s loud, opinionated, and whatever else you want to call her,” she said with a sigh. “In spite of it, though, all she really wants, like Dad did, is for us to be happy. You know she’s not any Bible-banger. Heck, she hasn’t set foot in church since Pastor Garnett had that affair with Mrs. Wheaton. Mom would rather be a heathen than a hypocrite, she always says. I think if you bring a guy to her house who can charm her and who praises her cooking, she won’t even notice it’s a guy and not a girl.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Ed retorted.

  “Yes, it is. But if I was really worried about it, I’d tell you.”

  Ed took a sip of his Pepsi. “All the same, I’d like to put that off as long as possible!”

  “Can’t say as I blame you. Poor Todd still has nightmares about the first time I to
ok him home to Mom.” She looked affectionately at her brother. “Now, get that thing hooked up and get out of here so you can get ready for your date, okay?”

  Ed smiled at her in gratitude. “You know, you’re not bad, for a little sister.”

  “I’m the best damned sister in the world! You get down on your knees and thank God you got me, ya hear? And you can just tell this Rick Benton for me that he’d better be good to you, or he’ll have me to deal with.”

  * * * * *

  The phone was ringing when Ed entered his house later that afternoon.

  “It’s about time you got home,” Glen complained when Ed answered. “Why didn’t you call me, and who was that last night?”

  Dragging the phone with him, Ed threw himself on the sofa. “I’m sorry I haven’t called, but I was at Laurie’s, putting in her new dishwasher. And as for that guy last night, he was”—Ed paused dramatically—“the new mailman!”

  “What?” Glen squawked. “You said he was straight.”

  “Well, when I’m wrong, I’m wrong,” Ed said, taking great pleasure in smugness.

  “Are you shitting me? What’s going on in that town anyway?”

  “Look,” Ed said, stretching out on the sofa. “I wasn’t at all sure when he came to the door Thursday, and I knew if I said I thought that maybe he was one of us, you’d have me chasing him all over town, and I didn’t want to do that. He just happened to walk in there last night, we just happened to bump into each other, and it just so happens that he likes me as much as I like him.”

  “Well, slap my ass and call me Anita Bryant. Ed Stephens with a boyfriend! The eighties are definitely starting off with a bang. And in that town! Christ! Did you move to the Magic Kingdom or something? Are you still in Porterfield?”

  “I was when I woke up this morning,” Ed said, still smug.

  “My God. You saw the guy, you wanted him, and you got him. That’s unreal. Maybe I should move to Porterfield.”

  “Problems with Mike?”

  “Oh, no. But, Ed, things like this don’t happen very often.”

  “I know. I still can’t believe it. It’s like a dream.”

  They were both silent a moment, then Glen asked, “So when are you seeing him again?”

  “Tonight.”

  “God!” Glen sighed, stunned once again into silence.

  “Listen, Glen, I really need to get ready for him. He’s coming over later. Can I call you back this week?”

  “You’d better,” Glen shouted. “I want every last horny, dirty detail. I may even drive out to that stupid town to see you. This is better than All My Children.”

  Ed hung up the phone, knowing he’d just experienced a first: He had managed to impress Glen Mercer into silence. Things are definitely changing around here. My knight in shining blue cotton is really coming here again. He looked at his watch. Only three-thirty. Crud! He still had over two hours before Rick was due to arrive.

  He pulled himself off the sofa and looked critically around the room, wishing he was Samantha Stephens instead of Ed Stephens and could make it immaculate with the twitch of a nose. On the other hand, Rick seemed to be quite easygoing, and living in a house with three kids, he was probably used to a little dust and clutter. Still . . .

  Ed tracked down a dust cloth and made a half-assed circuit of the living room furniture. He then hauled a battered old Hoover out of the kitchen closet and pushed it around for a few minutes.

  “Good enough,” he mumbled.

  He looked at his watch again. Well, he’d used up a whole twenty minutes. Now what?

  He’d already decided to have a pizza delivered for their dinner, as Rick had mentioned he liked pizza as much as Ed did, so he didn’t have any food preparation to do. He didn’t know what they would end up doing all evening, besides eating, talking, and—he let out a big sigh—maybe repeating last night’s lovemaking in the bedroom.

  He went to his record cabinet and pulled out an album of Carly Simon’s greatest hits. Soon “Anticipation” was pouring out of the speakers. He paced around the room, wondering if Carly Simon had ever felt this nervous and excited about James Taylor. He couldn’t imagine that anyone who was cool enough to write “You’re So Vain” ever felt as dorky as he did. As Carly sang about how right it feels to have her lover’s arms around her, Ed remembered exactly how it felt the night before with Rick’s arms around him.

  He shook himself back to the present. Just look at you, he told himself sternly. It was bad enough you were channeling Gidget last night when he was kissing you, but now you’re acting like Gidget. You may be queer, but get a grip already. He laughed, a loud happy laugh. Oh, what the hell. Even if things crashed and burned with Rick, he knew he’d always remember how he felt right now. It was a grand feeling, and Ed decided to enjoy it.

  He dreamed through two sides of Carly Simon, then decided it was late enough to hit the shower. It would be his second shower of the day, but he wanted to be as fresh as possible when Rick arrived. He scrubbed himself with a worn-down bar of Dial and joyfully butchered “Anticipation.”

  Ed wiped the steam off the bathroom mirror, then carefully studied his face. What on earth did Rick see in him? The same old Ed Stephens looked back at him, and all Ed could do was shrug at himself. He didn’t know what Rick saw, but Ed was just glad Rick saw something.

  “Son of a gun,” Ed whispered to himself, switching from “Anticipation” to “You’re So Vain.” Hell, Carly could have James Taylor, and she could have Mick Jagger singing backup for her. Ed didn’t envy her. He was more than content with the idea of Rick Benton coming to see him.

  Towel around his waist, he went into his bedroom and wasted a few more minutes deciding what to wear. Rick seemed to enjoy the whole handyman thing, so Ed dressed as he usually did, relieved that Rick didn’t seem to have any more fashion sense than he did. He glanced at the clock radio. Almost five-thirty. He dressed slowly, then wandered into the kitchen to help himself to some of the Pepsi Laurie had sent home with him. How was he going to survive these last few minutes?

  He took his pop into the living room and wondered what kind of music Rick would like to hear. They seemed to have about the same tastes, but Ed wanted something special playing when Rick arrived. He flashed back to the night before and his thoughts of Chicago’s “Beginnings.” Perfect, he thought, substituting Chicago’s greatest hits for Carly’s on the turntable. He was about to place the needle on the record when he saw a burgundy car round the corner and enter his driveway. Rick! He looked at his watch, and smiled. Ten minutes early, even. Maybe Rick was anticipating the evening as much as Ed was. Ed dropped the needle carelessly on the record and hurried to the kitchen window.

  “Carly,” he muttered, watching Rick reach for something on the passenger seat. “Take your anticipation and get the hell out. He’s finally here!”

  Chapter Four

  Ed moved away from the kitchen window before Rick could see him. He didn’t think Rick needed to know just how anxious Ed was about the evening ahead. He crept back into the living room, where Chicago was playing. “Make Me Smile” was the first cut on the album side, and Ed was indeed smiling.

  He heard a polite knock on the back door. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he walked slowly to the door. He opened it, and there was Rick, looking just as wonderful as he had when he had left Ed’s place very early that morning. Rick was smiling over—Ed could not believe it—a bouquet of roses. Needless to say, no one had ever given him flowers of any kind before. Right then and there he threw in the towel and decided he didn’t care how feminine it might be; he was deeply touched that Rick would spend his hard-earned money on something so romantic for him.

  “For the cutest handyman in Porterfield, Indiana,” Rick said bashfully, handing him the seven deep-red roses done up in green florist’s paper.

  “I’m . . . I’m blown away,” Ed said, taking the flowers. “I mean, thank you. I’m just so surprised.”

  Rick grinned, obviously
pleased at Ed’s response. “I hoped you would be. Since this is kinda our first official date and all, I wanted to do something special.”

  “It’s very special,” Ed said, brown eyes glowing. He felt like some silly-ass beauty contest winner. Hell, all he needed was a crown and scepter. He laughed. “I don’t even know if I have a vase for them.”

  Ed laid the roses on his kitchen table, then turned back to Rick, who was dressed as casually as Ed had hoped he’d be, in a faded IU sweatshirt and jeans. Ed didn’t care if he ever saw the guy in a suit. Rick couldn’t possibly look better than he did at that moment.

  “You know,” Rick said, a mischievous look in his eyes, “I had another motive with those flowers. I was hoping they might buy me another kiss from you.”

  Ed found himself grinning at Rick. “Just one?” he teased. “How about one for each rose?”

  “Mmm,” Rick moaned, taking Ed in his arms. “I like the way you think, Mr. Stephens.”

  Ed wasn’t sure just how many kisses those roses bought for Rick. He lost count somewhere way past seven. The evening, he decided, was getting off to a very good start. At some point Ed managed to free his mouth long enough to ask if Rick was hungry.

  Rick chuckled. “Well, actually, I’m starved. I haven’t had much to eat today. Do I remember you promising pizza?”

  “I sure did,” Ed said, reluctantly letting Rick go and heading for the phone. “I’ll call Gino’s. They probably know the way to my house blindfolded.”

  Once the pizza was ordered, Ed poured Pepsi for both of them and got Rick settled comfortably in the living room. Ed then scouted around for a vase for the flowers. Much to his surprise he found something appropriate in the basement, obviously left behind by the previous owners.

  After arranging the flowers and placing them on the kitchen table, Ed joined Rick in the living room.

  “I hope the pop is okay. I’ve got something stronger if you want it.”

  “Nope,” Rick said. “Pepsi is perfect with pizza, and I don’t drink all that much anyway.”