“Go right ahead,” said Wally. He bounced up from the table, went to the linen closet, and came back with a towel, a washcloth, and a toothbrush. There was delight in his voice as he said to Norman, “Here’s a toothbrush; it has never been used. I always keep several on hand for Tony.” He almost choked on Tony’s name. “Since you forgot yours . . . now you have one. You can get the ham and mustard taste out of your mouth so you can be more kissable.”
Norman grinned, “What for? It’s not like there’s any ladies here a-craving my gorgeous body.”
Wally chuckled. “Well, you never know what kind of situation is gonna pop up.”
Norman rolled his eyes and headed for the bathroom. As he lathered up in the shower, he began to sing something from his repertoire of favorite Broadway show tunes. Wally busied himself around the apartment, straightening things up. He rehearsed the question he would have to ask about the beds. His head swayed to the rhythm of Norman’s song, as if there had been a live orchestra and trained voices. Norman is quite good, he thought.
After the shower, Norman emerged from the bathroom in all of his hunky glory. He was wearing only a towel tied with a loose knot around his waist. His classic torso grabbed Wally’s attention.
Norman grinned. “Don’t glue your eyes on my body. It’s like you are waiting for this towel to come loose and reveal my caramba.”
“Huh?” chuckled Wally.
“Yeah, this lady I used to work with down in Charleston–she was real nice. She hadn’t been on a date for a while. She talked me into going home with her one evening. She made chicken and dumplings for me. After dinner, she wanted some private entertainment, if you know what I mean. Anyway, she drooled when she saw my chest; but, when I showed her the rest of me, she squealed, ‘caramba!’ I reckon she thought it was nice.”
Wally was in a playful mood. He laughed heartily. “Well, if it’s such a fantastic caramba, you shouldn’t be so uneasy about me getting to see it? You’re exactly right about my eyes being glued. They are glued to you, your whole body. You’re a total stud. I know you want to show it off, don’t you?”
Norman managed a sheepish grin. “I don’t like showing it to guys! That’s not exactly straight, you know. I haven’t done that since high school.”
Wally looked puzzled. “What?”
Norman smiled with pride. “Yeah,” he replied. “One day, some of my buddies and me–we had a measuring contest. It was in the locker room after gym class . . . I won!” Norman continued. “Well, let me tell you, Wallykins, nobody ever asked to see it again. They knew how much I had, and they didn’t want to come up short.”
Wally exclaimed, “Gracious, I do believe it’s getting hot in here!”
Norman interjected, “Are you telling me that you’re . . . like . . . getting turned on? Should I be here? Am I in danger of being attacked?”
Wally looked serious. “OK, Norman. You knew I was gay before you walked in here. You are gorgeous, but I know my place! I’m not laying a finger on you–no, not even a pinkie–unless you say it’s all right. You’re the only man that’s looking after me, right now. I’m not going to ruin it by trying to pet your caramba. I can control my hands. I have too. You’ll just have to get over me being bug-eyed and having this little bit of slobber run down my chin. I’m sorry, man!”
Norman appeared a little embarrassed and flattered at the same time. He knew Wally was struggling. He managed to grin. “Yeah, man. I guess I should have come out of there with more stuff on. The way it is, there’s only this sagging, wet towel separating my manhood from your hands. I mean, my pants have a zipper. This towel doesn’t have anything but a crack that gets wider as the knot slides down below my navel.”
Wally shivered. He was lost in thought. Then his remarks took a different turn. Grinning, he said, “OK, Norman. You win. That thing you’ve got dangling doesn’t really matter to me. It’s stuff like your mind and your soul that really keep me fascinated. I reckon nothing else is ever going to happen. And that’s OK.”
Norman seemed relieved. “You’re right, Wally-dally, there’s parts of me that just don’t want to hang out with another guy.”
Wally snorted. “Listen at you. Norman.” Wally made a silly face. “By the way, what’s this stuff you’re doing with my name? First I am ‘Wallykins’ and then ‘Wally-dally.’ What goes?”
Norman replied, “I am picking at you. That’s what I do when I like somebody. I guess it’s a price you have to pay when Norman Gómez just can’t seem to get enough of you.”
Norman tried to adjust the knot, but not in time to keep the towel from slipping down around his ankles. He bent to pull it up and found himself face to face with Wally who was bending down for a closer look. Christmas-morning curiosity spread over Wally’s face; a twinkle of astonishment lit his eyes.
“Oh, Norman! My goodness! It’s a little more than I expected. Most guys brag, but you told the truth. Look! It must have gotten cold inside that wet towel. It’s all wrinkled. That’s so darling.”
Norman’s smile was condescending, his face scarlet. He fumbled for words. Here I am, he thought, in front of the only guy I’ve ever been attracted to, and I end up showing him everything I’ve got. And when I do, it’s cold and wrinkled and pitiful. Look at his face. It’s like he just saw Santa Claus.
Wally picked up the towel and handed it to Norman who tied it back around his waist. He looked Norman straight in the eyes. “You know something? I should have offered to smooth out your wrinkles. I would have done a good job. I guess you know that, don’t you?” Wally ran his finger up Norman’s chest, then out to the end of his chin, and stopped at the tip of his nose.
Norman chuckled, “Oh Lord, Mr. Wally. You’re cracking me up and I don’t think you mean to.”
Wally abruptly changed the subject. “It’s been a long day for us, Norman. I don’t know about you, but I am craving sleep. So, I think it’s time for us to talk about beds.”
Norman snickered. He rolled his eyes.
“Don’t poke fun at me!” exclaimed Wally. “This is serious business. The spare bedroom has a day bed. My room has a double bed. I think you will be more comfortable if you sleep in my room. I’ll sleep on the day bed. OK?”
Norman looked at Wally. His expression was full of innocence and concern. “I said I was going to be there if you need me. So, we’re both gonna sleep in the double bed in your room.” He thought a minute, then said very softly, “That’s all right, isn’t it? I mean, I am not trying to run the show, but I really want to be in there with you . . . you know, just in case you need somebody. I can’t stand it, thinking of you being all by yourself, after all that has happened these last few days.”
Wally felt comforted and overwhelmed. Am I hearing what I think? He smiled at Norman. “Whatever you wish, Mr. Gómez. You just go make yourself comfortable in the double bed while I take a shower. The remote control for the TV is on top of the chest of drawers. You can turn back the covers by yourself. I don’t have room service here.”
“Very funny, dude,” chuckled Norman. “You’re just trying to cover up how you really feel about this arrangement.”
“Yeah, uh huh. You think nobody has ever been in that bed with me. I’ll have you know that Tony Danforth slept there . . . Oh, my God. Tony . . . Tony’s dead.” Wally wiped some tears from his cheek and blew his nose.
“Don’t go stressing out on me, Wally. I was only trying to make light of stuff.” Norman flipped on the TV. He mumbled, “God, this wet towel is getting cold. I’m already wrinkled. I’ll be turning purple if I don’t shed it and get my caramba under some sheets.”
When Wally came out of the shower, he was wearing sleep shorts--not a towel. Norman was propped up on a pillow watching the Weather Channel. Norman lifted his gaze toward Wally. “Do you sleep in those things?”
“Yes, I always have.”
“Well,” said Norman, “I sleep like I was born, you know, with it all hanging loose. I hope you don’t mind.”
“You sleep au naturel?” quizzed Wally.
Norman looked puzzled.
Wally went on, “That’s French for . . . ”
“Listen, Wally,” interrupted Norman, “don’t pull none of that French stuff on me. I’m all about fast cars and women–women that want what I’ve got. Women that want me hanging out on the sheets beside them. What does au naturel mean, anyway?”
“It means naked,” replied Wally. “That may be OK for you, if that’s what tickles your fancy. That is, until the building catches fire. Then you would have to scramble around a dark, smoky room trying to find your pants so you wouldn’t roast your hot dog on the way to safety.”
Norman chuckled.
Wally shivered. Was it delight, or was he cold? He wasn’t sure. Pulling back the covers on his side of the bed, he slipped underneath, then turned off the lamp. He lay on his back. He sank down into the pillow. “It’s right nice of you to do this, Norman. Right nice. Listen, part of me died when I lost Tony. I don’t know if I could ever love another guy, for fear of losing him, too.”
Norman replied, “Remember the day at the office when you found out about Tony’s accident and I hugged you. Oh, gracious Lord, it was out of this world. You didn’t know that, did you?”
“Oh yes,” said Wally. “I knew, but I just didn’t say anything. It was too wonderful to put into words. I was afraid I’d spoil the magic.”
Norman scooted a little closer to Wally. “I will never forget the day you told us about Tony kissing you.”
“Yes,” said Wally, “the kiss blew me away. No matter how Tony acted later, I need to remember how wonderful the kiss was.”
“Well, you got me wondering. You know, about guys kissing guys. The more I thought about it, the less weird it seemed. Is it just like guys and girls? I mean, is it really like that?”
“Absolutely,” answered Wally. “Just like guys and girls. You know when the time is right . . . and it just happens. The way you do it is exactly the same as with a girl. There is no difference.”
As Wally was talking, Norman turned on his side facing him. Then came Norman’s question, “Do you mean . . . it’s like this?”
Wally didn’t get to answer. Norman’s goatee gently scraped and tickled his cheek. He felt Norman’s lips and tongue. Norman seemed to know all the right moves. It really was like guys and girls. Norman was acting on what he already knew. He could have used that tongue to bring out the wild side of just about any lady he wanted. Instead, he was maneuvering it to connect with Wally, letting it explore and dive, as it grew adventurous. The more the tongue probed, the more Norman discovered that he couldn’t get enough of Wally. With the blending of tongues came the connection of minds. Norman was on a voyage to a world where only he and Wally lived. Little by little, another part of Norman’s body began to announce its presence. Frightened, Norman gently pulled away and rolled to one side.
Wally also turned on his side facing away from Norman. His brain couldn’t even begin to sort out the feelings. He was grieving over Tony. He was overwhelmed by Norman.
In a soothing voice, Norman asked, “Did I do something wrong? Was I moving too fast?”
“No,” sighed Wally. “I guess I’m afraid I’ll wake up in the morning and find out it’s not real.”
“Oh, it’s real,” said Norman as he gently scooted up behind Wally and put his arm across Wally’s chest. “I am so at peace about this. It’s like . . . just what I want.”
Wally sighed. “I have dreamed of this. You have no idea how much I’ve dreamed of this. But, I need to say something else that has nothing to do with bed or kisses. Uh . . . Would you like to go to church with me in the morning? You ought to start doing that. Nobody knows when they might get snuffed out like Tony.”
“I think I just might do that,” replied Norman. “I need to get started back in church. And, besides, I have never heard you play the organ.”
Wally rolled over on his back. Norman gave him a gentle hug. They clung to each other. Norman’s goatee scraped softly across Wally’s cheek. Once again, Norman acted on what he already knew. It was just like guys and girls. But, Norman’s mind was becoming a battleground--newfound desires at odds with reason and nurture. He made this kiss a short kiss. Forcing himself to pull away, trying to hide his predicament, he whispered, “Good night, Wally. I love you.”
Chapter 32
The next morning the two were in church. Wally was at the organ. Norman wanted to sit close to the front so he could see Wally. He wasn’t sure what kind of church this was, so he thought he might need something to hold on to, in case things got a bit spirit-filled. The first pew didn’t have a rail or anything in front of it, so Norman chose the pew behind it.
The last time he was in church, there were ladies with tambourines, dancing and swirling. The congregation swayed and clapped to lively music. People shouted and prayed in languages Norman had never heard. No one was really quiet, not even before the service started. It had been more like the crowd at a ball game.
The preacher began the service by whistling and shouting, “Hey, let’s hear it for Jesus.” The audience chanted, “Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!” The sermon lasted nearly two hours. At times, the preacher would get excited and suck in air while he was still talking. Sometimes, he would turn around to the choir, and the old Hammond organ would punctuate the pastor’s words with a chord or a run. If that wasn’t enough, there was always somebody shouting, “Hallelujah, praise Jesus!” or somebody else going, “Amen, brother!” When they were singing the last hymn, the preacher kept asking for more verses. That went on for so long that Norman left the building. That was three years ago. For all he knew they were still singing it.
Wally’s church wasn’t like that. The service had not begun, but people were whispering anyway. The music Wally played wasn’t like a funeral, but neither was it like rock music. It was more like some of the hymns Norman had heard. Norman passed the time by looking around and fidgeting. In a rack, on the back of the pew in front of him, were a Bible and two songbooks. Norman chose one of these--Presbyterian Hymnal. He leafed through the book. Norman had heard about these Presbyterians. Their worship was kind of dry, but they had lots of potluck dinners and good fellowship. It might not be so bad. The people in this church seemed very friendly. Norman felt at home.
Looking at the printed program for the service, Norman noticed that the preacher’s name was The Reverend Bob Morrison. As he listened to the whispering around him, Norman heard the man referred to as Pastor Bob. He also heard people talking about things in the bulletin. He thought, that must be what they call the program.
The sermon, this morning, was about love–unconditional love–the kind God has for us–the kind people should have for each other. It wasn’t particularly moving, but Norman listened because he felt a need to get his own life back in order. On top of that, he wanted to be part of Wally’s life. Wally had become devoted to this church. Norman would have to do that, too. A scripture passage used in the sermon commanded Norman’s attention. It was from the book of Ruth:
Do not press me to leave you
or to turn back from following you!
Where you go, I will go;
where you lodge, I will lodge;
your people shall be my people.
and your God my God.
Norman remembered hearing this passage before, but he couldn’t remember where. He thought, People at work always talk about being on the same page. Maybe it’s wise to do that with religion, also. Wally and I need to go to the same church.
Norman remembered seeing TV preachers who called for people to come forward during the final hymn. He also remembered the invitation in the last church he went to. He had not listened well enough, toward the end, to remember if Pastor Bob had made such a call. So, as Wally played, and the congregation sang, the closing hymn, Norman slipped from his seat and walked to the front of the church. Pastor Bob smiled and shook Norman’s hand, like this stuff didn’t happen every Sunday. He gave Norman
a card to fill out.
Norman soon realized that he had just joined the church. Pastor Bob introduced him to the audience. There would be paperwork and counseling later in the week; but, Norman was now a candidate for membership in this congregation. These were the folks who were on their way down the aisle to welcome him. Norman was overwhelmed.
When Wally finished the postlude, he made his way over to Norman and stood beside him. He thought it might help Norman to feel more comfortable. Toward the end of the line of church members, came an elderly lady, perhaps in her early eighties. She was dressed as if going to church required something special. Her gray hair was styled in a manner befitting a woman of her generation. She walked with a cane. She balanced herself so well that it would be hard to determine if the cane were medically necessary, or part of a carefully tailored projection of what graceful aging ought to be.
She introduced herself. “Young man, I am Sylvia Hunnicutt. I have attended Central Presbyterian all my life. My father, Lester Hunnicutt, was one of the founders. He also built the huge Victorian house at the end of Main Street. Though Daddy has been dead for some thirty years, I still live there.” Sylvia looked proud that she had established her prominence. Looking directly at Norman, she went on. “I hear that you and Wally Jackson are friends, close friends. Is that not correct?”
Norman nodded to affirm it. “Yes, we have become very close, lately. We have things that remain to be worked out, but we are becoming devoted to each other.”
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