Snowman

by Abramson, Mark

  Tim smiled. The woman had shared more than love with him; he’d inherited her knack for psychic dreams.

  He started packing for the trip, a bit of everything in case the weather changed fast, then he realized he was over-packing. "Oh well, that’s every gay man’s prerogative," Tim said to himself.

  The last thing Tim packed was the other framed photograph from the bedside table. A picture of Nick and Tim arm-in-arm beside the pool at the Triple R Resort. Tim placed the picture face down on top of the soft stack of multicolored t-shirts and tank-tops in his bag and zipped it shut.

  Tim couldn’t leave the city without first saying goodbye to his Aunt Ruth. So he drove to her apartment on Collingwood.

  He decided to block the driveway for a few minutes, rather than try to find parking. As Tim got out of the car, Teresa opened the gate to retrieve her morning paper. "Tim, it’s good to see you up and about!" She held the gate for him. "How are you getting along without the crutches? Where’s Nick?"

  "Up north getting the nursery back up and running after the fire." Why did people always ask about Nick? He started to feel like he was expected to be joined at the hip with the man. "Is Aunt Ruth awake yet?"

  "I don’t know, Honey. I haven’t seen her in a few days."

  Tim still had a set of keys to the gate and to Ruth’s front door.

  The apartment had been his for years until he inherited Jason’s house on Hancock Street. Aunt Ruth insisted that he keep a set of keys. "…just in case," she said.

  In case of what? Tim had never dared to ask, but it seemed to comfort her to know that he had them. And it seemed like a good idea for Ruth to have a set of keys to his house on Hancock Street, too.

  Ruth didn’t answer his first or second knock, but he didn’t see any reason to go inside. He’d call her from whatever motel or resort he ended up staying for the night.

  He heard footsteps from the staircase where Teresa had headed and looked up to see Artie coming down.

  Artie was co-owner with his partner Arturo of Arts restaurant on Castro Street. Since Tim worked there as a waiter, and Aunt Ruth had become the neighborhood favorite fixture behind the bar, the men felt like family rather than Tim’s bosses.

  "Hello, Timmy! Teresa said she let you in. Let me get a good look at you, dear boy. How are you?" Artie enveloped Tim in a deep hug.

  "Hey, Artie, I’m fine."

  "You’re as pale as a ghost and you must have lost twenty pounds! Isn’t Nick feeding you these days? Why didn’t you let us know? Arturo could send over a plate of food from the restaurant every night. We’ll start today! We can fatten you up again, Darlin’"

  "I’m fine. Honest. You’re the one who’s lost weight. I knew you were dieting, but now it really shows."

  "God love you, boy. You remember how I got into my red outfit for the Christmas party?"

  Tim nodded and smiled at the memory of Mrs. Santa Claus. Artie had surprised everyone by reviving his old drag persona Artie Glamóur from his glory days at Finocchios nightclub in North Beach.

  "I realized how much I’d missed the audience and the applause. And then I thought of all the gorgeous gowns I have in storage because I couldn’t fit into them anymore without a shoehorn." Artie sighed. "Well, I just decided things had gotten out of control."

  "You were great, Artie. I had no idea you could really sing."

  "Only in character, though. When I put on a face and a wig and a dress I am transformed. I become someone else, some fabulous illusion of my own creation who can do things that this old fart you’re looking at now would never dare try. Well, anyway… I took three of my favorite old beaded gowns out of mothballs. I hung up one in the kitchen at the restaurant, one beside the refrigerator here at home, and one next to the scale in the bathroom. There is no motivation like an old queen’s vanity.

  I’m determined to take my pick between those three dresses by next Halloween – maybe in time for Pride in June."

  "Good for you, Artie. I think you should run for Empress or something."

  "If I wasn’t so old, I would, but that’s a lot of work and time and travel. Leave all that for the younger ones. I wanted to run years ago, but Arturo wouldn’t hear of it. He said going from Artie Glamóur to mere San Francisco royalty would be a step down, but I don’t know… I always thought it might be fun.

  Those were the days when they’d have a whole bunch of candidates every year—it all started here in San Francisco, you know, with the Widow Norton, Jose Sarria—but nowadays they seem to have trouble getting anyone to take the job. Ah… so many things have changed, you know…"

  "I’m sure they have…" Tim was glad to see Artie so enthusiastic about losing weight, but he didn’t want to be stuck here all day listening to tales of the old days at Finocchios or the way the Castro used to be. When Artie got wound up, he could talk forever! "Hey, I just stopped by to see if my Aunt Ruth was home."

  "You’re the second one this morning," Artie said with a scowl.

  "Second one what? What do you mean?"

  "Some gal was here about half an hour ago, rang all the doorbells in the building and raised quite a ruckus. She parked right here where you are and she had to move her car to let Arturo out. He likes to shop early in the morning, you know,"

  Artie’s smile returned. "She didn’t like that one bit. She had a big fancy rented town car and she was already acting all flustered when she got here, probably wasn’t used to the hills or the narrow streets. As soon as Arturo left, she pulled right back in and started yelling up at me again. I told her to pipe down. The nerve of her, ringing everyone’s doorbells at that hour! You’d have thought I had Ruth held captive or something."

  "What did she look like?"

  "She was about your age, I guess, maybe a few years older. She had on an expensive suit and good jewelry – believe me, I can tell the difference from paste a mile away. She wore a little too much make-up and her hair was sprayed to death. She could have ridden a float through a wind tunnel and come out the other end looking none the worse for wear. Her wrist might have got tired from waving it against the wind, I suppose, but she didn’t look the type that would ever let that stop her. That’s it!"

  "What’s it?"

  "That’s what she reminded me of – a beauty queen!"

  Artie said with a snap of his fingers. "She was a real bitch, too—pardon my French—like Anita Bryant or Sarah Palin.

  They’re both from the same school. I’ll bet you anything this broad this morning had been in a pageant or two when she was younger… lots younger. Some gals get hooked on the tiaras and they never outgrow that sort of thing. They’re worse than drag queens, if you ask me."

  "So… you said she was asking for Aunt Ruth, too? What did you tell her?"

  "I flat-out lied and told her I didn’t know where Ruth was. Pardon me, but I didn’t like the way she asked, so I lied! I didn’t think it was any of her business where Ruth was, especially after she woke up the whole building. You know the new boys, Tony and Jeff on the second floor. They like to go out dancing on Friday nights and I’m sure they don’t appreciate any noise before noon on a Saturday. She didn’t care, anyway. She said she had Ruth’s cell phone number and she’d track her down sooner or later without any help from me."

  "So you lied…" Tim said.

  "So, sue me… I didn’t like the bitch, if you’ll pardon my French again, and I don’t mean to give pregnant canines a bad name, either—"

  "Artie!" Tim interrupted. "If you lied, that means you do know where my Aunt Ruth is. Aren’t you going to tell me?"

  "Oh… right… sorry…" Artie sat down on the stairs.

  "She’s not here. In fact, she asked me to water your little old garden outside the back door, which I gave a good soaking to on Wednesday. Let’s see, it was Sunday when she left. She worked Friday and Saturday nights behind the bar with Scott and then she worked Sunday brunch with me. It slowed down enough by about 2:30 that she asked if she could go early and I said sure. I could handle
it alone. That’s when she asked me to water the plants for her and…"

  "Where the hell did she go? Where is she now?"

  "She’s with Sam, of course. She’s at his place down in Hillsborough right now, I imagine. She’s been spending most of her days off down there all winter." Artie looked up at Tim and asked, "What do you mean? Didn’t you know?"

  "I guess not, Artie," Tim admitted. "I’ve had Nick staying with me all winter and I’ve only talked to my Aunt Ruth on the phone every week or so."

  "She’s mentioned that to me a couple of times…" Artie looked Tim straight in the eye as his words trailed off.

  "Mentioned what?"

  When Artie was sure that Tim was paying full attention, he went on. "She mentioned how glad she was that Nick was there to take care of you and that you didn’t seem to need her so much lately, but she felt like maybe Sam needed her a little more these days."

  "What’s wrong with Sam?"

  "Nothing is wrong with Sam, you ninny! The point is that your Aunt Ruth is happy for you and Nick, but you might let her know that you’re thinking about her too, now and then.

  You might let her know that you still need her, at least a little bit."

  "Well, Artie… the reason I came by right now was to see her and get caught up on everything before I leave town."

  "Leave town." Artie shrieked. "What do you mean?

  Where do you think you’re going? Arturo will be devastated.

  What about Nick? What are you talking about, leaving town?"

  "I’m not leaving town for good, Artie, just taking a little drive. Nick is busy getting the nursery back together and I thought I might go down to L.A. and look up some old friends.

  They were really friends of Jason’s, but when they came up for his memorial service they said I should come and visit anytime.

  Do you think they meant it?"

  "Well, maybe… I don’t know. People always say those things, but do they ever really mean them? There’s only one way to find out, but I’d at least call them first. If they don’t welcome you with open arms, you could always check into the Coral Sands, I guess." Artie winked at him. "I won’t tell anyone."

  "I’ve heard some pretty wild stories about that place."

  Tim grinned. "Well, I just thought I’d head down the coast highway and take my time, free as a bird. Since Aunt Ruth’s not here, maybe I’ll stop off in Hillsborough first and surprise her.

  You don’t happen to have Sam’s address, do you?"

  "There’s a good boy," Artie said with a smile as he hoisted himself off the steps into a standing position again. "Of course I do. She even drew me a map. We can make a copy of it, if I can figure out how to use Arturo’s fax machine. Come upstairs with me and I’ll find it for you right now."

  Chapter 3

  t was just past 10:30 on Saturday morning when Tim pulled his red Thunderbird through the gates of Sam I Connor’s Hillsborough estate. Aunt Ruth’s meticulously handwritten directions were easy to follow, considering this was Tim’s first trip here. He couldn’t remember having driven anywhere south of San Francisco before, except for the airport and a few stoned sunny afternoon trips with Jason to the gay ends of the nude beaches at Devil’s Slide and San Gregorio.

  Tim pulled up beside a large black town car and figured this must be the one Artie had mentioned, the nasty woman who’d stopped on Collingwood earlier and been so rude to him.

  The front door of Sam’s house stood wide open and Tim heard women’s voices talking inside. "Couldn’t you at least get Delilah to bring my luggage in from the car?"

  "Her name is Delia, not Delilah!" That was Aunt Ruth’s voice and she didn’t sound happy. "I’ve already told you her name twice, Dianne."

  "Well, for heaven’s sake! What- ever, Mother!" Now Tim recognized the whiny voice of his cousin Dianne, a former Minnesota girl transplanted to Texas. She was his Uncle Dan and Aunt Ruth’s only child. Tim slunk down in the seat as far as he could and wondered whether he’d be able to start the engine and hit the road again before they noticed him.

  "Furthermore, Delia is Sam’s cook and head house-keeper and she’s very good at what she does!" That was Ruth’s voice again. "But her job does not involve schlepping your suitcases and hat-boxes around."

  "Oh, Mother… where I come from the help is the help. I can’t carry all those in the house by myself."

  "How long did you plan to be away from home, anyway? How much luggage do you need to bring inside?

  You’re welcome to freshen up, but this isn’t my home. You don’t think you can invite yourself to stay here at Sam’s, do you?"

  The two women appeared at the top of the marble front staircase now and Tim turned the key in the ignition, but the engine failed to catch. "Tim!" His Aunt Ruth had spotted him.

  "Thank goodness you’re here. You remember your cousin Dianne," Ruth came running down the steps, across the driveway and toward his car.

  Tim remembered his cousin Dianne, alright. He hadn’t seen her in years, but he could hardly forget her. She was older now, of course, and even more scary-looking. Artie had been right about the lacquered hair and heavy make-up and in broad daylight, no less. Tim still pictured her in knee socks and black patent leather Mary Jane’s, stomping down a flight of stairs by jumping on each step, as if she wanted to prove she was the boss. She always chewed gum like she was mad at it. Even then she was selfish, petty, mean—the opposite of her mother.

  Tim thought back to his own mother, for some reason.

  She and his Aunt Ruth were each other’s only siblings and they were polar opposites too, but in a different way. How many opposites could a person have? Tim remembered when he was very small, when his mother still held down a job and drank on weekends. She would drop him off at the neighbor lady’s house or at his grandmother’s or else his Aunt Ruth would come and pick him up with Dianne strapped into the passenger seat so Tim would have to sit alone in the back. He could swear that he never saw the world from the front seat of a car until he was old enough to learn how to drive one.

  Aunt Ruth and Uncle Dan lived in Edina, where Dianne had long outgrown the tree house Tim loved. Or it wasn’t

  "ladylike" enough for her. Maybe that was it. She hated getting dirty, which was something Tim didn’t mind, even nowadays.

  He would climb up there and read all afternoon, but that must have been later. His memory played tricks on him.

  Tim gave up on starting the engine and got out of the car to give his aunt a hug as his dear old Cousin Dianne approached. Tim was unsure of what to do next, but he stepped forward and extended his right hand. She jerked her own hands behind her back and said, "He’s awfully pale. Does he have AIDS?"

  Tim’s jaw dropped, but he managed to turn to his Aunt Ruth and say, "Since we’re communicating in the third person, please tell my cousin Dianne how nice it is to see her, too. She’s looking well for her age – not a day over fifty, I’d say… but my, what big hair!"

  "Fifty!" Dianne screamed. "I’m nowhere near fifty. I’m nowhere near forty yet!"

  "Stop it!" Ruth said. "…both of you!" She took Tim by the hand and led him inside the house, leaving her daughter outside with the front door wide open. "If Sam heard this kind of talk, he’d throw all three of us out and I can’t say I’d blame him one bit."

  Sam rounded the corner into the front hallway in time to hear Ruth’s last remark. "What kind of talk is that, dear? Oh!

  Hello, Tim. What a nice surprise. It’s good to see you up and walking. How are you getting along? Where is Nick?

  Tim shook hands with Sam. "Nick had to go back up north to get to work on the new nursery."

  "He’ll have to come down another time when he’s not so busy. I’m sure the two of you boys would enjoy the pool and the tennis courts. The stables are just over there beyond the garage.

  You could go riding—"

  Ruth laid a hand on Sam’s arm. "My daughter Dianne is here too, I’m afraid—quite unexpectedly."

 
; "Why, that’s wonderful news, Ruth," Sam beamed. "You must be very happy to see her. Where is she?"

  "She’s right over…" Ruth turned toward the open door.

  "Well, she was right here a minute ago."

  The three of them walked to the entrance and looked out to see Dianne at the back of her rental car, wrestling some enormous pieces of luggage out of the depths of the trunk. "I didn’t invite her to stay, Sam, honestly…"

  "Don’t be silly, Ruth. Of course she can stay and Tim, too. We have plenty of empty bedrooms."

  "Not me," Tim said. "Thanks, Sam, but there’s no way.

  Some other time, maybe… I just stopped by to say hello and good-bye to my Aunt Ruth."

  "What do you mean by good-bye?" Ruth asked. "Where on earth are you going?"

  "I’m just going for a drive for a few days. Don’t worry.

  I’m coming back again. I thought I might drive down the coast and visit some old friends in L.A. Or I might get tired of driving and stop somewhere along the way."