The Handyman's Dream

by Nick Poff

  “Me neither,” Ed said, again struck by how much they seemed to have in common. “Ever since I barfed all over the interior of my friend Ted’s car in high school, I’ve never been able to get too excited about it.”

  “For me it was a New Year’s party in college,” Rick said, sneaking an arm around Ed’s shoulders. “I felt so shitty that New Year’s Day, I vowed I’d never get that bombed ever again. I knew a lot of guys who drank too much in Indy, too. It really kind of turned me off the whole thing.”

  Ed was curious about those Indy guys, but figured he’d hear about them soon enough. “I’m glad you like pizza,” he said, changing the subject. “I’m not much of a cook, and frankly, I would have been a nervous wreck, trying to make dinner for you!”

  Rick threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, man, don’t worry about it. Hell, I’m so glad to be here you coulda given me a baloney sandwich and I would have been happy. Besides, I think pizza is about my favorite food. Well, next to breakfast. I do like a good breakfast. I cook a pretty mean breakfast, too.”

  Ed looked shrewdly at him. Was that a hint about spending the night? “I think I have some eggs in the refrigerator.”

  “Would you like me to make you breakfast in the morning?” Rick asked coyly.

  “If that means you’ll be here between now and then, yes.”

  A look of relief passed over Rick’s face, and his arm tightened around Ed’s shoulders. “Man, I was hoping you’d say that. All day I was thinking about how much I hated to leave you this morning, and how much I wanted to fall asleep next to you.”

  “Tonight’s the night,” Ed said, smiling at him.

  “Everything’s gonna be alright,” Rick said, reading Ed’s mind.

  Ed shook his head in amazement. Anyone who knew the Top 40, past and present, well enough to throw that line out was okay in his book. The whole thing was getting downright spooky. I’d better watch it, or I’m gonna start looking for all the flaws. He was sure Rick had some, but Ed just didn’t want to know what they were yet.

  “I’ll have to go get something out of the car, though, before then,” Rick was saying.

  Ed looked puzzled.

  “Oh, just my glasses,” Rick said sheepishly. “That was another reason I had to leave this morning. My contacts were killing me.”

  Ed chuckled. He was glad to know Rick was self-conscious about something.

  By the time they were settled at the kitchen table over a Gino’s Special—everything but the anchovies—they had both begun to relax. Food had a way of doing that, Ed had learned over the years. After the edge had been taken off their appetites, they began to talk, filling in the blanks of each other’s lives.

  Rick was curious about what growing up in a small town was like, so Ed told some stories, some funny, some not so funny.

  “I had a lot of friends in high school,” Ed said. “Oh, I wasn’t popular, but the other nerdy types liked me well enough. We had our own little gang, and I think it helped us get through. I was really grateful to them, but at the same time, I thought I was the only guy in the world who felt like I did. I remember guys talking about ‘queers’ and ‘fags,’ but I never really put it together. Once I did, I felt even lonelier, wondering if I was going to have to spend my whole life lying about how I really felt. I remember being so scared someone would figure it out. I lost track of almost all of those guys I ran around with back then. It was easier to let them go than tell the truth.”

  Rick toyed with a pizza crust on his plate. He looked up at Ed. “Did you ever think about killing yourself?” he asked bluntly.

  Ed looked back at Rick. A bond that can only be understood by two gay men began to form between them. “Yes,” he said quietly. He didn’t need to say anything more.

  Rick sighed. “Well, I didn’t have a lot of friends back then. I was a bookworm with big, thick glasses, and pretty much everyone left me alone. Plus, I had to cope with being the younger brother of Claire Benton, one of the most popular girls at Broad Ripple. I just assumed everyone thought of me as Claire’s loser brother.”

  Ed looked at him in surprise. “You were unpopular in school? Man, that’s hard to believe.”

  Rick laughed, but there wasn’t much joy in it. “Oh, yes. Just looking at this pizza here reminds me of Claire’s favorite nickname for me back then: Pizza-face. I had horrible zits and wanted to wear a ski mask to school. Nothing I tried seemed to help. The money I wasted on Clearasil! Then there was the fact that I was so tall. Everyone thought I should go out for basketball, but there was one problem with that: I hated it. I wasn’t tall and graceful, just tall and awkward.

  “I remember going for long walks around our neighborhood late at night, when I thought no one could see me, just thinking about how lonely I was, and that no one else in the world could possibly feel the way I did. I also had a sneaky feeling that I liked boys a hell of a lot more than girls, and believe me, that didn’t help.

  “I remember the summer after graduation. My parents all but forced me into the car and dragged me down to Bloomington for my freshman year at IU. They told me about a million times that college would be better, and sure enough, they were right. Not at first, though. I was miserable through that first semester, but eventually I got to know some people, and for the first time I felt like I fit in somewhere.”

  “How did you end up in the postal service?” Ed asked.

  “Well, I lasted two years at IU as an English major,” Rick said, getting up from the table to refill his glass. “For someone who read as much as I did, it seemed appropriate. But I didn’t know what I wanted to do with it. I didn’t want to teach, like my folks, and I never really had any ambition to write. The summer after my sophomore year, when I’d survived the draft lottery, I took a summer job doing vacation fill-in for mail carriers at one of the Indy post offices. I loved it! Those long walks I mentioned? Well, this was just like that, only I was getting paid for it. I loved being outside, being on my own for most of the day. When I was offered a full-time job, I just stayed. My parents about died, let me tell you, but eventually they came around when they saw I was doing what I really wanted to do.

  “Too, I was still struggling with the whole gay thing, and more than anything I wanted to be on my own to figure it out. I had my own job and my own apartment, and I think I really began to learn just who Rick Benton was. Oh, that wasn’t the end of the story. I had some big screwups ahead of me, but at least I was alive, living my life. For a long time I wondered if I’d make it that far.”

  Ed nodded, chewing on his pizza. “Yeah, I remember feeling like that. When I got laid off at Marsden I moved back in with my parents. Geez, what a disaster! When I had the handyman thing going well, I bought this place, and it was a lot better. That’s when I started sticking my nose out of Porterfield, looking to see if there were any other guys like me around. It was such a relief, too, to be out of that factory. I mean, there I was Tim Stephens’s boy, and no one messed with me too much, but I could just imagine them all finding out I was a fag. I don’t think I would have survived it.”

  “Yeah,” Rick said. “I’ve been pretty lucky with the postal service. Oh, it’s no gay-friendly place, but I’ve always gotten along well with everyone, and no one’s ever given me any grief. Plus, the rest of my body finally caught up with my height sometime in college. I began to realize that most guys won’t mess with a big, tall guy. Thank God for stereotypes! Why would anyone think a six-feet-two, two-hundred-pound guy who doesn’t swish when he delivers mail would be queer?”

  They both laughed.

  “You had me fooled,” Ed said, reaching for more pizza. “I had to see you in that bar last night to know for sure.”

  Rick shook his head. “Oh, me too. When I saw you coming out of the restroom it took me a moment to figure out who you were. I mean, surely that sexy guy with the certified letter couldn’t be gay. No one I reacted that strongly to could be interested in me.”

  Ed was blushing as badly as he had the night b
efore. Fair skin can be a real bitch sometimes. “You really thought that?”

  Rick nodded. “Walking my route the rest of that day, I kept thinking, if that guy would be gay, moving to Porterfield would be totally worth it. And you are. And right now it is—worth it, I mean.” Rick dropped his eyes from Ed’s. “I barely got any sleep at all this morning. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and how much I wanted to see you again. Hell, I was ready to come over here about two hours early. I drove around town, wasting gas, until I thought I could show up without looking too eager.”

  Ed laughed, thinking of his afternoon spent with Carly Simon and all the anticipation. “Considering the afternoon I put in, I wish I’d known.”

  Now they both laughed, and whatever pretense had been left between them fell away. Ed knew two people seldom get to that point so quickly, but whatever fates had thrown Ed and Rick together continued to bless them.

  They continued to talk, the pizza growing cold on the table before them. Rick told Ed about his ex-lover, Jack.

  “Oh, I thought I was grown-up when I started that disaster, but I found out I was still pretty young and stupid.” He recounted the relationship, a story that both horrified and fascinated Ed, who’d never experienced anything like it. “It went on for about two years before it was finally over. But he would still drop back into my life from time to time. That was the other reason I thought a move to Porterfield would be a good idea. It’s a lot harder for him to find me here.”

  When Rick talked about Jack, a shadow of doubt fell across Ed’s mind. The pain in Rick’s face was too obvious to miss, and Ed wondered if this Jack was someone he had to worry about. The doubt faded, though, when Rick, done with his story, looked at Ed. It was also obvious that Rick was here in the present with Ed, and very happy about it.

  Rick insisted on doing cleanup. He told Ed he could have his turn the next day after breakfast. Rick moved around the kitchen foreign to him with a casual assurance Ed almost envied. He wondered when that tall, awkward teenager Rick had told him about had vanished, leaving behind this strong, confident man.

  Ed went into the living room and put on Elton John, a request from Rick. He was glad to be away from Rick for a moment. He had thought he was in love with the new mailman when he didn’t know a thing about him, but now, watching this man washing dishes at his sink, Ed thought the cliché “falling head over heels in love” suddenly made sense. It’s just infatuation, he scolded himself. This is going better than anyone could have hoped, and you’re just overwhelmed by it. You’ve know him only about twenty-four hours. Get a grip, Stephens. Oh, he could scold himself all he wanted, but Ed knew he had forgotten about the fantasy mailman and was beginning to feel something strong for the real-life Rick Benton.

  The domesticity of the evening probably had something to do with it as well, Ed thought. They weren’t sitting in some restaurant, awkwardly watching their words, being interrupted by a waiter. They were at home—Ed’s home, of course, but still at home—and it felt natural. This was one of the rare times Ed had experienced having a man he barely knew in his home, and it was also the first time he felt completely comfortable with the situation.

  Dishes done, Rick joined Ed in the living room.

  “This is nice, just hangin’ out,” Rick said, making himself comfortable on the sofa next to Ed. “I’m glad we decided to do this instead of going somewhere.”

  “You still look a little tired to me. I may have to put you to bed early tonight.”

  “I don’t have a problem with that,” Rick said, one arm around Ed, the other hand tracing the stripes on Ed’s flannel shirt. He nodded to the stereo. “I’m sorry, but Elton’s got it wrong tonight. This Saturday night is alright for lovin’, not fightin’.”

  Ed snuck one hand under Rick’s sweatshirt.

  “Mmm, you like your men hairy, don’t you?” Rick untucked Ed’s flannel shirt and T-shirt and snuck in a hand of his own. “Me too! I can’t tell you how good you feel.”

  “You can try.”

  “The hell with talking. I’ll just show you!” Rick squeezed Ed underneath the shirts. Rick’s sigh sounded contented, but to Ed’s eyes he looked a little troubled.

  “Is something wrong?” Ed asked.

  Rick pursed his lips, looking at the ceiling, but didn’t say anything.

  “If something’s bugging you, I wish you’d tell me.”

  Rick shook his head. “No, nothing is wrong, really. I’m just wondering, though . . . Ed, what we did last night, is it okay with you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Rick shifted on the sofa, taking his warm hand away from Ed’s chest. “Oh, the fact that we had barely met and I was dragging you off to bed. I feel a little bad about that. I just didn’t want you to feel that was the only reason I was here.”

  “You didn’t exactly drag me.”

  “I know. But I didn’t want you to think I was just one of those bar guys, looking for nothing but sex. I went there last night because I was lonely, and tired of being alone. I hadn’t counted on running into the cutest handyman in Porterfield, Indiana. I was so excited about meeting you, I couldn’t wait to spent some real time with you outside of that place. So what did I do the minute we got back here? Said ‘Let’s do it,’ and had your clothes off in no time! I really did want to get to know you, and still do. More than you know. But when we kissed last night . . .”

  “Hey, I was there. I felt it, too.” Ed ran his hand in lazy circles across Rick’s chest. “I also seem to recall saying something about the fact that I wasn’t worried about you running off afterward. I wasn’t, and I’m still not worried.” He sighed. “I know what you mean, though. It’s so easy to just grab some guy and go for it. I’ve done that. But last night was different. And by the way, you didn’t say, ‘Let’s do it.’ You said, ‘Will you make love with me?’ There’s a big difference. If some other guy had said that, I probably would have laughed, but I knew you meant it. I knew our sharing that was just part of getting to know each other. I didn’t want to wait, and I don’t regret it.”

  “Just a couple of horny guys doing what comes naturally,” Rick said lightly, then sighed. “Ed, I just wanted to be close to you so badly. I don’t remember a time I wanted to be with someone so much. Thing was, it wasn’t about the sex; it wasn’t about being horny. I just wanted to be with you, and I guess that’s how we’ve been programmed to respond to a desire like that. Get naked and do it.”

  “I think you’re being a little hard on yourself,” Ed said tentatively. “Do you wish now that we had waited?”

  Rick looked thoughtful for a moment. “I really don’t know. A part of me wishes that, yes, we’d waited awhile. I knew when we got back here last night that I’d be seeing you again, seeing you as often as you would let me. Then again, I feel so much more comfortable with you tonight, and I think part of that is because of what happened last night. I know how beautiful you are, in and out of your clothes. I don’t have to worry about whether we’d be okay together in bed. I know we are, and I’m looking forward to the next time, whether it’s tonight or . . . hell, whenever.”

  Ed did some thinking of his own. “I think maybe all that waiting jazz is overrated. I think we get confused, trying to play by the straight rules, then trying to play by the gay rules. I felt a connection between us last night, and I was ready when you asked. I’ve been awfully lonely myself, you know.” He shrugged. “I’m just a simple handyman. I can’t figure it all out. I do know this, though. When it comes to tonight, the thing I’m most looking forward to is just being with you all night, knowing you don’t have to leave, and you don’t want to leave. Is that wrong, too? Should I send you home like Ann Marie used to do to Donald Hollinger on That Girl?”

  Rick laughed. “I loved that show. I’m so queer!” He laughed again. “I always wondered about those two, if they ever did it. Oh, hell, I give up. What’s that old song, something about ‘if loving you is wrong, I don’t want to be right?’”

 
“Well, I think he was singing about having an affair even though he was married, but I get your point,” Ed said, grinning at him. “I sure hope you stay, though. I’m feeling greedy. Now that I’ve got the mailman in my arms, I don’t want to waste any time I get.”

  Rick looked at Ed, shaking his head. “I don’t have that kind of willpower. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for the night.” His hand returned to Ed’s side, and he leaned over for a kiss.

  “Did anyone ever tell you that you are the best kisser in the whole world?” Ed asked him.

  “No, baby, I’m the runner-up. You’re the best kisser in the whole world.”

  “Maybe you don’t get good at it until you’re kissing someone you really want to kiss,” Ed murmured, “and I think it will be a very long time before I get tired of kissing you.”

  “Me too, baby, me too,” Rick said, proving it.

  The record ended on the stereo. The tonearm lifted off and silently glided to the side of the turntable.

  “Do you want to hear something else?” Ed asked in the sudden silence.

  Rick was about to answer, when he glanced at his watch. He shook his head in disbelief. “Do you realize that we have not even officially known each other for twenty-four hours yet?”

  Ed grabbed Rick’s arm to look at his watch. “Aw, that can’t be. I feel like . . . like . . .”

  “I know,” Rick said, kissing him again. “I gave up believing in magic when Bewitched went into reruns, but I think someone put a spell on us.”

  “It must have been Uncle Arthur,” Ed replied, snickering. “I always thought he was a big fag.”

  Rick roared with laughter. “Must have been,” he hollered. “Oh, but I sure am glad, baby.”

  “Hey,” said Ed, still laughing. “You didn’t answer my question. More music?”

  Rick shook his head. “No. I don’t need it. You were right about one thing, I really am tired. I’d love nothing more than to just go lie down and hold you next to me. I have a feeling I’ll sleep a lot better than I did this morning.”