Snowman

by Abramson, Mark

  "Well, nobody’s going anywhere without lunch, are they?" Sam said. "Ruth, would you ask Delia to set a couple more places at the table on the south terrace? I think it will be plenty warm enough to eat outdoors beside the pool, don’t you?

  Tim, if you’re up for it, maybe you could help me with your cousin’s luggage before she hurts herself."

  Lunch was delicious, but far from relaxing. The terrace overlooked a swimming pool lined with padded deck chairs. At the far end, roses the size of salad plates covered a pair of latticework gazebos. Sam explained that one of them concealed a shower and changing room and on the other side was a Jacuzzi hot-tub that seated a dozen people "… so you and Nick should invite all your friends down here sometime and enjoy the amenities."

  "That sounds great, Sam." Tim could imagine what kind of trouble all of his and Nick’s friends could get into if they had the run of a place like this. Sam introduced Delia to Tim and Dianne, who refused to shake hands with the petite African-American woman. Tim thought his cousin was merely homophobic, but she was apparently a racist too.

  "Delia has been with me for nearly thirty years," Sam said to no one in particular. "She’s a treasure in the kitchen."

  "I can attest to that." Ruth took a sip of her soup. "I have to watch myself or I’d be packing on the pounds every time I come to visit Sam."

  "You don’t need to worry, Ruth," Sam said. "You’re in excellent shape and I’ll help you stay that way with a game of tennis this afternoon, if you’re willing – that is, unless Tim or your daughter want to challenge you first. Maybe we could play doubles?"

  "I’m lousy at tennis," Tim said, "but the pool sure looks inviting."

  "Swimming is wonderful exercise, Tim," Sam said. "It would do you good and some of Delia’s home cooking couldn’t hurt, either. You have room to put on a few pounds."

  "I will in time," Tim agreed, "…especially now that I’m up and about. I’ve been walking to Dolores Park nearly every day, working up an appetite. Food was the last thing on my mind when I was holed up in bed all winter. By the way, this vichyssoise is great, Delia."

  "My soup is cold!" Dianne grumbled under her breath, but just loudly enough for everyone to hear her.

  "Vichyssoise is supposed to be served cold, dear," Ruth said.

  "Well, I never…" Dianne pushed her plate away and stood up from the table.

  "Thank you, Tim," Delia smiled, removed Dianne’s full soup plate and disappeared into the house. She had put out quite a spread on the terrace’s sideboard and left the foursome to fend for themselves. Dianne took a plate and helped herself to pasta salad, which was also unexpectedly cold to her, and several slices of assorted cheeses and meats. A wicker basket held homemade sandwich rolls in a linen napkin. They were fresh and hot from the oven and gave off the yeasty smell of an old-fashioned bakery.

  Delia came out of the house again with a pitcher of iced tea. "Where is Frank this afternoon, Delia?" Sam asked, and then turned to explain to his guests. "Frank is Delia’s husband. He takes care of the grounds and the stables. The two of them are the only members of the domestic staff who live here on the premises full-time."

  Dianne paid no attention to Sam. She was too busy examining her cold cuts. Then she picked apart her pasta salad and set aside anything she didn’t recognize.

  Delia glanced at her wristwatch. "Frank should be on his way to the airport to pick up Adam. We haven’t seen him since Christmas-time, you know."

  "That’s terrific, Delia," Sam said. "Tim can meet Adam. It might be nice for him to have someone closer to his own age around here."

  "I’m closer to Tim’s age," Dianne snapped. "But on second thought, I’m sure we have nothing in common."

  Ruth tried to explain. "Dianne, I think what Sam meant was that it might be nice for Tim to have another young man around."

  "Dianne," Tim said, "you might be surprised at how much you and I have in common. When I was a lot younger, I used to fool around with my hair color too, but that was years ago."

  His cousin stopped picking at her food long enough to give him an icy stare.

  "I stopped doing that in my early twenties, though. It always looked so phony. I like a more natural look, don’t you? I guess not…"

  "Are you insinuating something?" Dianne asked.

  "Not at all, Dianne," Tim said and turned back to the others. "Aunt Ruth, did I tell you I finally finished that big box of old gay novels Arturo loaned me? There were some that went back to the 1970s – way before I was even born. And then Artie gave me this new one about a homicidal drag queen whose vanity is only surpassed by the true shallowness of her character.

  It’s pretty good. She reminded me of Sarah Palin." He took a sip of his iced tea and glared at Dianne, who was still picking apart her pasta salad. "I can’t imagine what made me think of that right now. Maybe because Artie mentioned Sarah Palin just this morning."

  "Maybe he’ll loan the book to me when you’re finished with it," Ruth said.

  "I’m on the last chapter now." Tim looked at how the sun sparkled on the clear blue water of the pool. He wasn’t in such a big hurry to head south, after all. If he could keep his snooty cousin out of his hair, he might even enjoy some time with his Aunt Ruth and her wealthy beau. And if Dianne got in his way, he could have fun teasing her. "I’ll bet I could finish the book this afternoon while I’m here and leave it with you."

  Ruth turned toward her daughter. "You still haven’t told us what brings you to California. This is quite a surprise. I thought you told me a long time ago that you’d never leave Texas again."

  "Can’t I come to visit my own mother?"

  "Of course you can, dear," Sam cut in, "but perhaps the two of you can discuss all of that later, after lunch. Delia told me she’s made a chilled raspberry soufflé for dessert. Would anyone like coffee to go with it? I’ll ask her to put some on now."

  "I’d love a cup," Tim said.

  "Me, too," said Ruth. "Would you like a cup of coffee, Dianne?"

  Dianne couldn’t decide about coffee, one way or another, but she got herself another roll and some more cheese, apparently glad for any change of subject that didn’t involve her hair color or make-up or some trashy gay novels that didn’t interest her in the least.

  Chapter 4

  t was Sunday morning when Nick Musgrove packed up a few things and got ready to drive down to the city. It I didn’t take him nearly as long to pack as it took Tim. It didn’t take Nick nearly as long to do anything. He didn’t fuss about what to wear or what he might want to wear later. Clothes were clothes. He knew how to dress comfortably for most situations without having to think much about what to pack.

  Nick was a practical man, Tim’s opposite in many regards.

  He missed Tim terribly. Even after all the years of living alone, this winter he’d grown spoiled by waking up beside Tim every morning in San Francisco. Nick looked around the bedroom of his little house in Monte Rio and his eyes landed on the photograph of the two of them beside the pool on a perfect afternoon at the Triple-R Resort last summer. Nick blew the dust off the chrome frame and smiled. The cleaning lady would come on Monday afternoon, but Nick knew that if Tim were here, he would have kept the dust off it.

  This whole business of taking a break from each other was Tim’s idea. Nick just went along with it… sort of. It was Tim who thought they needed time apart, now that he could take care of himself again. Now it had been a full week since they’d seen each other. This was the longest time they’d gone without even speaking since Tim was in a coma after the "accident" with Nick’s truck last winter. A week was more than enough, in Nick’s opinion. Too much!

  Tim told Nick he should get back to work and rebuild the nursery. When the insurance money came through, Nick realized he could make the place exactly how he’d always dreamed it should be. He’d tried to fill the hours by making plans and dealing with contractors, but without Tim around his heart wasn’t in it.

  Nick stretched his long limbs and
put the coffee on. By the time he finished his shower it was ready and so was Nick.

  He threw a few things in a bag, poured the fresh pot of coffee into a Thermos, grabbed the keys to his new truck and hit the road. The coffee was gone before the Golden Gate Bridge came into view.

  Tim’s downstairs tenants, Ben and Jane Larson’s blue Volvo stood in the driveway on Hancock Street, but there was no sign of Tim’s Thunderbird. Nick thought maybe he’d gone grocery shopping which meant that he was at least well enough to be up and about. Nick pulled into the driveway and sat in his truck for a moment. He had a set of keys to Tim’s flat, but it would feel strange using them when Tim wasn’t home. It was one thing to let himself in as he had all winter when Tim was lying there waiting for him. This was different. Still, Nick needed to take a leak, so he decided… what the hell.

  Leaving the apartment a couple of minutes later Nick glanced in at Tim’s bedroom. His bed was neatly made and everything looked to be normal except that the picture in the chrome frame was missing. Nick could only wonder what that meant. He locked the front door again and came down the front stairs.

  "Are you back home already, Tim?" Nick heard Jane’s voice from the downstairs flat. "I thought you’d be gone for a lot longer than just one night. What happened? …oh! Hello, Nick. I didn’t think Tim could be back from his trip already. How are you?"

  "Hi Jane… back from what trip? Did Tim say where he was going?"

  "Well, I…" Jane tried to decide how much of what Tim had said was in confidence. "Won’t you come in? How about a cup of coffee?"

  "No thanks, I drank a whole Thermos-full on the way down here this morning."

  "Come in anyway. Sit down. I’m having some. How about a danish?"

  "Well, okay, I guess I could have one more cup of coffee, too…" Nick figured that if bad news was coming, he might want to be sitting down.

  "Have you talked to Tim lately?" Jane pulled a cup and saucer down from the cupboard as Nick removed a doll from the nearest chair and sat down, still holding Raggedy Ann in his lap.

  "No, not this week… he said he thought we needed a little break."

  "Have you tried calling him?"

  "Sure, I’ve tried. All I get is his answering machine. He never answers that new cell phone I bought him, either. It was just last week he started talking about us having some space.

  God, I hate that word! I don’t feel like we need any space from each other." Nick took a sip of coffee and added cream. "What did he tell you?"

  "He basically said the same thing, but he made it sound more like it was your idea. He said he was afraid of being a burden and he didn’t want you to get sick of taking care of him and…"

  "That’s ridiculous! I love taking care of him. It makes me feel needed."

  "Well, you know Tim," Jane offered a weak smile. "At least you know him a lot better than I do."

  "I’m not so sure. Sometimes I think I do, until he says something silly like that. I would have been happy to push him down to City Hall in his wheelchair and get married if they were still granting licenses to gay couples. I could have sworn ‘in sickness and in health’ and all the rest of that stuff and I would have meant every word of it!"

  "Why don’t you and Tim get married anyway?" Jane asked. "You could elope to Iowa and then fly back and celebrate at the restaurant with all your friends and families. What a great excuse for a party."

  "I think you’ve been living in the Castro too long, Jane."

  "Arturo and Artie got married, you know, back during that little window of time when it was legal, but they hardly told anyone about it until later. They didn’t want a big fuss, I guess."

  "Tim and I have talked about a commitment ceremony, but you know how he is. He didn’t want to do it while he was in a wheelchair. You know… for the sake of the pictures."

  Jane laughed. "He’s just as vain as he is paranoid."

  "You know him better than you think. But where did he go on this trip? Did he tell you?"

  "He said he wasn’t sure where he was going, just that he needed to get away." Jane picked up her crying baby.

  "Get away to where, I wonder?" Nick realized he was squeezing the doll so hard that one of her button eyes was about to pop off. He let go his tight grip, smoothed the doll’s little dress and set her up on the table.

  "Tim talked about taking a long drive down the coast…

  maybe L.A. Why don’t you swing by Collingwood, Nick? Ask Tim’s Aunt Ruth? I’ll bet she would know. He wouldn’t leave town without checking in with her first."

  "Good idea. Thanks, Jane… and thanks for the coffee."

  Nick pulled his truck onto Collingwood Street as a car vacated a handy parking spot near Arturo and Artie’s building.

  The driver honked and waved. It was Teresa, Ruth’s neighbor from the top floor. Nick was about to press Ruth’s doorbell when Arturo arrived at the gate, out of breath. "Nick, you’re just the man I needed to see."

  Walk with me over to the restaurant. Artie threw his back out trying to lift a beer keg last night, so he’s upstairs in bed with a heating pad and a bottle of Vicodin. Brunch is going to be busy today and Scott will have to tend bar by himself if I can’t get a hold of Ruth. She’s not due back until tomorrow night, but Scott had to close by himself last night, so I know he’ll be tired."

  "Where is Ruth? How do you know she’s not home? I need to ask her if she knows where Tim is."

  "She’s been down at Sam’s place in Hillsborough all week. Artie said Tim came by yesterday looking for her, too."

  "Well, what do you need me for? I don’t know anything about the bar business, except how to order a drink. I don’t know how to make them."

  "I didn’t mean I wanted you to tend bar, Nick. I need a strong man with a good back, though. Late last night the toilet in the women’s room backed up. I got hold of a plumber to come in, but it was two in the morning. I went home at 2:30 and left him there, still working. You can just about imagine what he’s going to charge me for coming in at that hour."

  "Did he get it fixed?"

  "I sure hope so. He called when he was done and left a message that the snake wouldn’t do it. They had to tear up the whole floor to get at the problem. The plumbing in that building is so old I’m sure it’s pre-earthquake and I mean 1906 not ’89. He said they had to tear up linoleum and tile and the sub-flooring under that, all the way from the toilet out to the back. The pipes were clogged in every direction, but they were the worst toward that old apartment building behind us on Hartford Street. I can’t imagine how bad the place is going to smell this morning!"

  Nick was fond of Tim’s bosses, who were also Ruth’s landlords, but he wasn’t sure about getting involved in this mess at the restaurant that Arturo described. He just wanted to find out where Tim was and be on his way. "Sure, I’ll help you," Nick heard his own words escape from his lips before he could stop them.

  "I knew you would, and I promise I’ll make it up to you, believe me."

  Arturo turned on all the lights and the exhaust fans as soon as they set foot inside. He opened the windows and put two bar stools blocking the opened front door with the CLOSED

  sign to discourage any customers from thinking they were open.

  "It doesn’t smell so bad, Arturo,"

  "I guess not… maybe a little. What do you really think, though… could you eat in here?"

  "It hardly smells at all," Nick said. "I don’t think anyone would notice it unless you told them, especially after we air it out good. Let’s go look at the damage."

  The bathrooms were located in the hallway between the swinging doors to the kitchen on the right and the stage on the left. The ladies’ room door was still propped open and there was a pile of damp rubble and broken bits of tile and linoleum extending from the toilet bowl all the way down the hall to the emergency exit in the back of the building.

  "Do you have a shovel? If not, I have some tools in my truck. I could walk back over to Collingwood and get them."


  "There’s a shovel in the closet off the kitchen," Arturo said. "And there should be some work gloves on the shelf inside the back door. Grab a pair for me, too. We can use those empty liquor boxes beside the dumpster; line them with heavy-duty trash-bags. I meant to have the busboy break them down last night, but I’m glad I let him go home. We all put in a big night."

  Between Nick and Arturo, they filled several boxes with debris. Nick pulled his long blonde hair away from his face into a ponytail and hoisted the heavy boxes onto his broad shoulders, one after another. He carried them out to the dumpster behind the restaurant.

  Nick felt the sweat trickle down his back and he knew he would need another shower before he continued his search for Tim. He figured he could go back to Tim’s apartment and let himself in again. He was used to Tim’s shower by now—he even had his own toothbrush in the rack beside the bathroom sink—and this time he had an even better reason to let himself in when Tim wasn’t home.