The Handyman's Dream

by Nick Poff

  Rick smiled at him with sleepy, Sunday-morning affection. “You do know there are times I wish I was here all the time so I could see things like the cardinals at dusk.” He chuckled again. “‘Cardinals at Dusk.’ Sounds like the name of a painting. But—”

  “I know,” Ed interrupted him. “It’s too soon, and you’re not ready to leave Claire alone with the kids. I’m okay with that, remember? Besides, now that the holidays are over and things have calmed down, we’ve settled into a nice routine. We get to see each other every day at some point, and Claire’s been really cool about you staying over here every Saturday night. I just wish,” he said thoughtfully, thinking of Rick’s car in the driveway, “that I had a bigger garage.”

  Rick hugged him. “Ah, don’t worry about it. As much as I like your place, I keep thinking about a bigger place, a house where we can spread out and have all the things we’ve always wanted. Hell, I’ll just add a two-car garage to the wish list.”

  “Hmm, a basement workshop for me, a library for you, a two-car garage for both of us . . . what else?”

  “Well,” Rick said, “I wonder about the location. Sometimes I think about us moving somewhere else, someplace a little more open to guys like us, but I don’t really want to move away from the kids until they’re a lot older, and I can’t imagine you leaving all the old folks that depend on you.” He giggled. “At least not until they all die off. But there will be plenty more to take their place. They’re all crazy about you, and it would be hard to build up a business like that in a big city. I’m guessing it would, anyway.”

  “I never even really thought about it until you came along,” Ed said. “I guess I just saw myself growing old here as the bachelor, closeted handyman. Oh, I thought about moving away, even moving to Chicago or some other city, where it would be a lot easier to be gay. I’ve watched some of Glen’s friends do that. You know what, though? They always seem to move back after they’ve had their fun. It makes me wonder if it’s really any easier to be a gay man in a big city than it is here. I’ll bet even San Francisco has lots of drawbacks that we hicks here in Hoosierland don’t know about.

  “Still,” he continued, “I wonder about us living together here. What some of my clients might say, or the neighbors. I hate to admit it, darlin’, but maybe that’s one of the reasons I’m willing to put off the thought of your moving in here. I mean, the Hendricksons are great neighbors, but what if, ya know?”

  “Yes, I do know.” Rick looked troubled for a moment, then smiled. “All this serious talk on a Sunday morning. It’s Sunday, it’s snowing, and we’re here where it’s safe and warm.” He slapped Ed’s ass under the covers. “How ’bout I make the cutest handyman in this little burg some French toast, huh?”

  “I’ll get the syrup.” Ed threw the covers back to get out of bed.

  Once they were at the kitchen table, enjoying French toast and sausage, they discussed plans for the rest of the day. Ed was all for driving into the city to see the new comedy hit 9 to 5.

  “The way they keep playing that Dolly Parton song on the radio really makes me want to see it. I was hoping we could go over Christmas, but we were both too busy.”

  “Oh, baby, do you really want to drive through all this snow?” Rick asked, pouring himself more orange juice. “Why don’t we just stay here? I know, let’s get out your Monopoly set. I know you have one. I saw it upstairs once.”

  “Monopoly,” Ed groaned. “ After all those games I played with the kids on New Year’s Eve? Oh, brother. I suppose you’re one of those assholes who grab Boardwalk and Park Place and run everyone else out of the game, right?”

  Rick laughed, almost spitting juice. “No way. I’m usually lucky if I get Baltic Avenue. Claire’s the Monopoly villain in our family. Oh, the fights we had over that when we were kids. Sounds like we’re on about the same level then. How ’bout it?”

  “Okay,” Ed reluctantly agreed. “But you have to be the banker, and I get the racing car.”

  “You got it,” Rick said, taking his plate to the sink. He paused, looking out the window above the sink. The snow was still falling, a bit heavier now. “I sure wish I could go back to my route tomorrow,” he said wistfully.

  “In this snow?” Ed was disbelieving. “Oh,” he said, turning to Rick with an empathic look. “Murk the Jerk still buggin’ you?”

  Rick sighed. “Murk the Jerk. Man, that’s about the nicest thing I can think of to call him. Yeah, he’s still being a pain in the ass. But really, baby, I’m coping with it. Don’t worry. I just miss being outside, being on my own during the day, even in the snow. That’s one of the reasons I’ve always liked the job. Being cooped up in that sorting room every day . . . I’m sick of it. But Don says I can’t until I get a clean bill of health from Dr. Quigley.” He reached behind to rub his back. “It feels fine,” he grumbled. “I don’t know what he’s waiting for.”

  “Well, you see Dr. Quigley again this week, right? Maybe he’ll finally declare you healed.” Ed joined him at the sink.

  “I hope so,” Rick said, running water for the dishes.

  “Hey, you cooked, I’ll clean,” Ed said, playfully nudging Rick away from the sink. “Geez, look at that snow. We may be worrying about my back by this time tomorrow. I can’t bitch, though. The money will sure come in handy. Things always slow down for me this time of year.”

  “I promise to come over sometime tomorrow, or tomorrow night, and give my handyman a back rub,” Rick promised. “Are you doing okay, though, baby? Moneywise? I’m torn, thinking it’s none of my business and thinking it is.” Rick chuckled uneasily. “After all, we are talking kind of seriously about a future together.”

  “I’m fine,” Ed assured him. “Things slow down every winter. People start putting off all their repair jobs, except emergencies, until spring. I’m used to it. I’m like a squirrel. I put as many nuts in the bank every fall that I can, and that, plus the regular stuff that I do for people and the snow removal, keeps me warm and well-fed until spring. My dad may have taught me how to fix things, but my mom taught me the value of a dollar and how to save ’em.”

  “Ah, it’s nice to know I’m not in love with a spendthrift.” Rick gave him a hug. “We’re gonna need all the nuts we can store away to make some of those bigger house dreams come true.”

  “Now, if Ruth Dorsey would just pay me for all that painting I did right before Christmas,” Ed said, clattering dishes into the sink, “I wouldn’t worry at all. ‘I’ll give you a check as soon as Christmas is over, Eddie,’” he said, mimicking her haughty voice. “Eddie, she calls me, like I’m some little boy she’s doing a favor for. You know what, though? I’ve noticed those with the most money are always the slowest to pay.”

  “One of Porterfield’s elite, I take it?”

  “Well, she thinks she is. She hangs out with Eunice Ames and that crowd, at least on the outer fringe of it. Her husband’s a big shot out at Marsden, though I was never too impressed with him. I don’t know, darlin’. As much as I wish we were rich and could do whatever we want, I’d hate for us to end up like that.”

  Rick hugged him again, from behind. “Baby, I think you could have all the money in the world and you’d still be the shy, down-to-earth man I fell in love with. I’m just glad to know you’re taking care of yourself financially. As much as I sometimes envy your self-employment, I must admit I like getting a regular paycheck.”

  Ed glanced over his shoulder at Rick’s face, noticing that slightly troubled look again. “Why are we talking about work and money and that serious stuff? Let’s just enjoy the few hours we have left together. Any minute my phone is gonna ring, all people wanting their walks cleared right away. Let’s have some fun. Why don’t you go dig up that Monopoly game while I wash up?” he said, hastily scrubbing some knives. “All of a sudden I’m feeling lucky.”

  Rick slapped Ed’s ass, smiling. “Ah, I’ll have you in jail before you know it.”

  “Yeah?” Ed retorted, glad to see Rick’s smile. “I he
ar they’ve got a cute guard. That might not be such a bad thing!”

  * * * * *

  A few days later, Rick stopped by Ed’s house for lunch, with a bag of their usual takeout from the Cozy Hearth Café with him.

  “Let’s eat fast,” Rick said with his most devilish look. “Then maybe I’ll have time to molest the handyman before I go back to work.”

  “You’re in a good mood today,” Ed remarked, unwrapping his roast beef on rye.

  “I sure am. Don’s letting me go back on my route next week.” He laughed. “What with Dr. Quigley’s okay and Ralph bitching to him about hauling mail in the snow, he finally saw reason. Baby, I will be out of that stuffy building, and Jim Murkland can go fuck himself.”

  “That’s great, darlin’.” Ed beamed at him, sandwich forgotten.

  “We need to celebrate,” Rick said, raising his Pepsi can in a toast. “I don’t suppose you have Rare Earth’s ‘I Just Want to Celebrate’ in that stockpile of yours, do you?”

  “No,” Ed said regretfully, raising his can as well. “You finally asked for one I don’t have. Oh, well. Maybe I’ll stop by the Record Rack or Woolworth’s and get that new Kool & the Gang song they’re playing on the radio, ‘Celebration.’”

  “You do that.” Rick’s warm and tender special was glowing on his face. “And let’s go to Fort Wayne this weekend and see that movie you want to see, and anything else you want to do. Hell, I’ll even spring for a nice dinner out someplace.”

  “It’s a date.”

  Ed smiled back at him, relieved that Rick was so happy about the change in his job, but Ed was still a bit worried about Jim Murkland. True, Rick would be away from the post office most of the day, but he still had to put in some time there. He couldn’t avoid Murkland entirely.

  Rick wolfed down his sandwich. “Hurry up with that thing, baby,” he said impatiently. “I may not have time to make some serious love with you, but I sure would like to show you how much I love you before I have to go back.”

  “What’d you have in mind?” Ed teased, stuffing potato chips in his mouth.

  Rick grinned mysteriously. “Meet me in the bedroom in about five minutes, and I’ll show you.”

  Ed made it to the bedroom in four, and Rick did indeed show him exactly what he had in his mind, and a few other places as well.

  “I’m no big fan of quickies,” Rick sighed happily, “but this time I just couldn’t wait. You okay, baby?”

  “I can’t imagine being naked with you and not being okay,” Ed whispered, kissing him. “I’m gonna have to take this afterglow on the road, though. I have to reinforce one of the legs on Mrs. Ilinski’s couch.”

  “Reinforce it? Huh?” Rick asked, puzzled.

  Ed smirked. “Let’s just say there’s a lot of Mrs. Ilinski, and sometimes she’s not too careful about parking it.”

  “Oh!” Comprehension flashed in Rick’s eyes, above his smile. “Well, I’m taking my afterglow back to the Porterfield Post Office. I hope I’m shining so damned bright that it blinds Jim Fucking Murkland.” He reached for his pants, then hesitated, turning back to Ed. He pulled Ed to him for another kiss. “How anyone could ever find something ugly in me loving you, Ed Stephens, is beyond me. Loving you is the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  * * * * *

  After that, the whole Jim Murkland situation slipped away from Ed’s mind as he began dealing with a problem of his own. The heater in his truck was blowing nothing but cold air, which was rather unfortunate, it being the middle of January. After shivering his way from job to job, he finally gave up and called the service department at Wagner’s Chevy/Olds on the north edge of town. They told him to bring it in Friday morning.

  Ed drove there contemplating the possible expense, not to mention being truck-free for a few days. Fortunately the bulk of his clients were within walking distance of his house, Porterfield not being any sprawling metropolis. However, carrying his new Christmas toolbox on foot from place to place wasn’t too appealing.

  “Isn’t that something,” he mumbled to himself as pulled into Wagner’s lot. “Rick’s back on the street Monday, and I will be, too, swinging a toolbox instead of a mailbag. Go figure.”

  He toyed with the idea of trying to borrow Rick’s car during work hours, or even his mother’s, but decided the exercise would do him good. With both Rick and Norma taking turns feeding him these days, he thought his jeans were getting a little tighter than usual. Hoofing it back and forth across Porterfield wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.

  The service guys at Wagner’s cheerfully took custody of Ed’s truck, assuring him it wouldn’t take more than a few days to take care of the problem. Ed didn’t quite believe them, but decided to take them at their word. He walked south on Main Street, toward downtown Porterfield, grateful that Rick’s car was available for their weekend plans in Fort Wayne.

  Ed didn’t have any jobs scheduled until midafternoon, so he took his time walking through town, stopping occasionally to look in store windows.

  He paused in front of the Record Rack, debating whether he should spend any money. He wanted to get Judy’s birthday present, and he really did want that Kool & the Gang song, but with truck repairs staring him in the face, he hesitated. Shrugging, he pulled open the door. The records would probably be cheaper at Woolworth’s, but that would mean retracing his steps down Main and heading out of his way on West Commerce Street. Not only that, he liked the aging hippie guy who owned the Record Rack, and wanted to help him keep the struggling store open.

  Paper bag of record purchases in hand, he waved good-bye to Andy, the owner, and resumed his walk south. Less than a block away from the post office on the corner of Main and Clark, he noticed with surprise Rick standing in the parking lot behind the building, talking with Gordy Smith. Since Jim Murkland was nowhere in sight, he decided to stop and tell Rick about the truck.

  As Ed got closer he saw they were both drinking coffee from Styrofoam cups. Gordy sat on the ledge of the stairs at the employees’ entrance, smoking as well. They both looked up as Ed approached. They had obviously been sharing a good laugh, as they were both still chuckling, Gordy choking a bit on the cigarette smoke.

  “Hey, Ed,” Gordy greeted him, still wheezing a bit. “Long time no see. Where’s that big bad pickup of yours?”

  Gordy, who had to be past thirty now, Ed thought, still had his football player’s build, but seemed to be growing a comfortable beer belly. Ed, like any good gay man, noted that Gordy was still blond, blue-eyed, and handsome; the cheerful smile that had driven the girls crazy in high school was as bright as ever.

  “Just left it at Wagner’s.” Ed reached for Gordy’s outstretched hand for a good shake. “God only knows when I’ll see it again.”

  “What’s up with it?” Gordy asked, taking another drag.

  “Heater,” Ed said with a rueful grin.

  “Aw, man. And in January? That sucks.” Gordy chuckled.

  “I guess you’re driving us to the city for the movies this weekend,” Ed said to Rick.

  “No sweat.” Rick smiled at him.

  The three of them continued to talk casually for a few minutes. Ed was about to take off for home when the employees’ door banged open and Jim Murkland walked out. He took in the three men at the bottom of the steps, and the nasty grin that Ed remembered so well from high school spread across his face.

  “Well, look who’s here,” Jim said snidely. “If it isn’t Benton’s boyfriend. What you two gonna do, go buy some new dresses on your lunch hour?”

  Gordy rolled his eyes at Jim. “Oh, can it, Murkland.”

  Rick stared Jim down. “No dresses today. Actually, I’m gonna get you a muzzle.”

  Gordy snickered. Ed probably would have, too, but just seeing that flat, squinty-eyed face again irritated him so much he felt his hands draw into fists.

  “And a leash, too,” Ed found himself saying. “Isn’t there somewhere around here where dorks like him can be tied up
?”

  Gordy looked at Ed in approval, while Jim blinked at him. It was probably the first comeback he’d ever gotten from Ed, and Ed was well aware of it. He was no longer a skinny, scared sixteen-year-old, and he wasn’t intimidated by the Jim Murklands of the world anymore.

  “Save the leash for yourself,” Jim said to Ed. “I understand you guys are into all that bondage shit. Which one of you says ‘yes, master’ anyway?”

  “Probably the one who wins the coin toss for beating the shit out of losers like you,” Ed fired back at him.

  “Ed, cool it,” Rick murmured.

  “Aw, ithn’t that thweet. Ricky’s protecting his boyfriend—no, his girlfriend.” Jim sneered. “That doesn’t surprise me. You never were worth a shit in school, Stephens.”

  Gordy erupted into laughter. “And you were, Murkland? Shee-it. Why don’t you go crawl back in your hole?”

  “Because one of these two, or probably both of ’em, would crawl in after me. Watch it, Gord. You aren’t safe with these two.”

  “I can’t imagine a gay man in this world wanting anything to do with you,” Rick said calmly. “From what I hear around town, the women aren’t too crazy about you either.”

  Rick definitely hit a sore spot. Jim’s mouth tightened a moment before it opened for his next assault. “Least I’m not some fuckin’ fairy. Like you two. Say, which one of you takes it up the ass anyway?”

  Rick and Gordy looked stunned, but Ed’s brown eyes were darkening with fury. Images of himself meekly taking Jim’s put-downs and insults all through his school years flashed through his mind. There was no way in hell, or at least in Porterfield, that he was going to take it anymore. His father had taught him a thing or two about using his fists, and he suddenly knew the time had come to see if the lessons had stuck.

  “Murkland,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’ve had it with you.” He put his bag of records against the steps. “Get that ugly mug of yours down here so I can pound it into the parking lot. So help me God, when I’m done it’s gonna be even uglier.”