by John Simpson
“Can I talk to you for a second?”
“I suppose,” Alex said. “What’s on your mind?”
“Well, I was thinking about you last night and was going to call you. Thanksgiving is coming up, and I was wondering if you’d like to come over for dinner. Unless you already have plans, of course,” Clay said with a nervous stutter.
“Lemme check my calendar at home, and I’ll give you a call at the store.”
“I have a new schedule. I’m only open for six hours on Saturdays until the second week in December. I’ll be at home tomorrow, so if you could call me there and let me know, I’d appreciate it. I’d really enjoy having you as a guest. Plus, we have to get some art on your walls.”
“Funny you should mention that. I assumed that with Christmas coming soon, it might force some galleries to have sales, so I thought after Thanksgiving would be a good time to pick up a few pieces. But this is all kinda sudden, isn’t it? I mean, we haven’t talked in almost three weeks and now all this. What gives?”
“Alex, I told you that this was not about you. I wanted to concentrate on my business, and by the end of February, it will all be set up the way I want it. Then it will practically run itself, and I’ll have more time to explore things.”
“Explore things? What? Do I look like another planet or form of life?” Alex asked with a slight edge to his voice.
“No, of course not! I meant explore things about myself. Please, give me a chance to tell you and show you more about me. I have to take things slowly. I’m just not used to being free,” he said, looking down at the floor.
Alex felt something move inside of him after hearing those words. He thought maybe he was being a bit of a prick.
“Okay, tell you what. I will gladly come to your house for dinner on Thanksgiving if you let me bring something, and we do Christmas at my house. I might have friends up from Washington, so you’d get to meet some new people and have some fun. That’s the deal, take it or leave it,” he replied, only this time he smiled.
“Okay, you win. I’ll take the deal.”
“Great. You say you’re only open on Saturdays now? What if I run outta books to read in the middle of the week?”
“You know the owner, and that has perks. Just give me a call when you need a book, and I’ll meet you at the store.”
“I’ll give you a call before then just to talk, if that’s okay with you. Thanksgiving is still a little ways off.”
“Okay, call me whenever you want, cop. How’s that?”
“Much better, now move along, sir, before I have to arrest you for loitering. You have no idea of the possibilities if I put handcuffs on you!”
Clayton blushed, said good-bye, and moved on with his shopping list, looking back once to find Alex still standing there, watching him. He turned back around before he ran into someone else and finished his shopping in a much, much better frame of mind than the one he came into the store with.
ALEX was also delighted with the turn of events, and he was doing some thinking. The fact was that he hadn’t walked in Clayton’s shoes and had no right to make judgments until he knew him better. The more he thought about it, the more he felt that he’d behaved like a jerk toward the good-looking, almost painfully shy man. If Clayton was willing to give it another go, Alex was game. Funny how the world worked. He was just wondering the day before what he was going to do by himself on Thanksgiving, and now that problem was solved. He couldn’t wait to get into the holidays now that he was sure he’d be seeing more of Clayton and his rainbow.
WITH his new work schedule, Clayton moved forward quickly with the final revamping of the store website. He had a professional shopping cart installed and worked out a good rate with one of the banks that serviced online stores. He still needed to add in all of the available inventory, and that would take a couple of weeks of work, but he felt he could actually be finished by mid-January instead of early February.
Thoughts of Alex continually interrupted his workflow as Thanksgiving grew closer. He went over the menu for the tenth time, which was nothing more than anxiety because who can’t plan a traditional Thanksgiving meal? Alex was bringing wine, and he would have apple cider as well as scotch on hand to drink. He decided to dress casually but nicely in hopes of provoking a compliment from Alex. He wasn’t sure why or when Alex’s approval had become important to him, but since it was, he’d do his best to make it work out.
The phone rang, and caller ID let him know that it was Alex calling.
“Hi, Alex, what’s up?”
“Ah, that damn caller ID. Gone are the days when you could surprise someone by calling them out of the blue. I hate to bother you, but I just finished my last house project on my to-do list and realized I don’t have anything to read. Any chance of getting into the Rainbow for a minute today?”
“Not sure, but if you can hold I’ll ask the owner.”
“Oh, by all means, please ask him,” Alex replied, playing along. “I hear he’s a handsome devil. Any opinion on that?”
Clay giggled and put the phone back up to his mouth. “He says all right, but only if you’re nice, and since you are—usually—he’ll meet you there in thirty minutes?”
“Sounds great. Tell you what… why not let me take you for coffee at the Starbucks afterward and maybe a cupcake?”
“A cupcake? And ruin my outstanding body? Sounds like a plan. See you there!”
CLAYTON fell back on the sofa, smiling. He loved to get calls from Alex. He never knew what he’d end up doing as a result of one of them. A few words from Alex could change the course of an entire day. He got dressed, grabbed his keys, and sailed down to the car. Six minutes later, he was walking up the sidewalk to his shop. He grinned when he saw that Alex had beaten him there.
“So, I understand from my assistant that you have a book emergency?” Clay asked.
“Yes, I do. And that assistant of yours sounds hot! Is he?”
Once more, Clayton blushed and busied himself opening the door and turning off the alarm. He flipped on the lights and went around the counter to turn on the cash register as Alex chuckled to himself and wandered the aisles. Finally, he picked out a book and a magazine and went to the counter. He paid for the items, minus his ten percent discount, and waited for Clay.
“Oh, drat, I don’t have any change in the drawer because I’ve been closed since last Saturday. I don’t have the eleven cents I owe you,” Clay said apologetically.
“So, consider that you only gave me a nine point nine percent discount. Come on, let’s go get that coffee.”
Clayton put the ten and the one Alex had given to him under the drawer, and they left the shop. They walked to the Starbucks, pulling their coats closer around their exposed necks against the chilly wind that blew in off the ocean.
“Damn, it’s cold today! Can’t wait for summer to get here with all the hot boys in their skimpy bathing suits,” Alex said.
Clayton felt vaguely offended by Alex thinking about summertime boys and wondered at the little flare of jealousy. He fought down the urge to say something as they entered the coffee shop; after all, what right did he have to be possessive? Still, it nagged at him as they placed their orders.
“So, how’s Thanksgiving planning going? All done?”
“Of course! Any idiot can plan for dinner on that day. You don’t have to be Martha Stewart, after all,” Clayton said in return.
As they took their coffees and a cupcake that was split in two to the table, Alex asked what the menu was going to be.
“Okay, genius, you tell me. What am I cooking?”
“Well, I’m guessing kielbasa and sauerkraut along with Brussels sprouts and dinner rolls. Did I get it right?”
“You left out the pig gizzards. But there ya have it, good?”
They both laughed, drawing a look from the sole employee in the shop.
“I’m making the traditional turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, dinner rolls, and gravy of course. Pumpkin p
ie for dessert all right?”
“Whoa, that’s already a lot of food, don’tcha think?” Alex asked.
“Well if you can’t eat it, you can take it home. You just won’t have whipped cream on top.”
“Sounds really good, Clayton. That’s not too much for you to handle all by yourself, is it? You want me to help cook?”
“No, I don’t want your help. I’m perfectly capable of entertaining one guest and setting out a proper dinner. With your wine, I think it will be great.”
They each ate their half of the cupcake as they looked out the window. There was a light mist once again coming in off the ocean and it almost looked like the dead of winter. The scene gave Clayton the shivers.
“How’s the website coming along?” Alex asked.
“Pretty good. I expect to be finished as early as the first week in January. It’s open for business now, but has limited inventory listed. That’s the last thing I need to work on and then it’s done. What about you? What’s keeping you busy?”
“Same old stuff. Reading books, working on little things around the house, a couple of dates, that’s about it.”
“You’re dating? Who? There’s no one here.”
“There are some year-round residents who are gay and horny, just like me.”
Clayton sat back against the chair. “Should I presume you had sex with both dates?”
“A gentleman never kisses and tells,” Alex responded, hearing the tension in Clayton’s voice.
“Well, this has been nice, but I have to get back to my place and continue work,” Clayton said, as he finished his coffee in one long gulp and stood up.
Alex was taken by surprise by the sudden change in the climate inside the coffee shop.
“Did I say something to make you mad?” Alex asked with concern.
“No, not at all. Who you date and what you do is none of my business as you so correctly pointed out. Give me a call some time,” Clay said as he walked out to his car.
ALEX sat there thinking about what had just happened. There was only one reason he could think of for the way Clayton had acted; he was jealous of Alex dating, let alone screwing, anyone else! This was the third time Alex noticed that Clayton could run from hot to cold at the drop of a pin. Alex swore at times he couldn’t figure out if Clayton liked him or not. He made a mental note not to bring up his nocturnal activities with Clayton anymore.
UP UNTIL Thanksgiving Day, Alex and Clayton chatted on the phone every other day, and Alex showed up at the shop on one Saturday to buy books. The calls were cordial and polite, but Alex felt he was walking on eggshells every time they talked. He decided that had to change.
On Thanksgiving Day, Alex showered, put on nice clothes, and sprayed on some Polo cologne. He grabbed four bottles of wine—two white and two red—so that there would be wine left over at Clayton’s house for another time.
WHILE Alex was getting ready, Clayton was running madly around his kitchen constantly checking the turkey and all the burners. He had also showered and dressed and had just finished setting the table—including candles—when his doorbell rang.
Clay took one last look around the table and the townhouse and went to the door. He looked through the peephole, saw Alex, and opened the door.
“Happy Thanksgiving!” Alex said.
“And to you! Gimme your coat, and I’ll hang it up. I haven’t been out today. Is it real cold?”
“Maybe forty or so. That’s cold enough,” Alex replied as he walked into the dining room. “Wow, looks really beautiful, Clayton! Silver candlesticks? Now I know I have to class-up my house if I’m to have you over for Christmas!”
“You don’t need to do any such thing. This china and the silver all belonged to my mother, and when she died, it came to me. This is the first time I’ve used it since… well, since she passed on. What would you like to drink? Soft or hard?”
“Oh, hard is a lot nicer I think,” Alex said with a mischievous grin.
Clay caught the remark and cleared his throat. “I have scotch and the wine you brought in the hard category. Which would you like?”
“Can we save the wine for dinner, and I’ll have a scotch on the rocks now?”
“Of course. Please have a seat in the living room, and I’ll be right back with the drinks after I check on the food.”
Alex wandered into the living room, and the first thing he noticed was the artwork on the walls. Some were landscapes, one in watercolors, and the others were oil paintings of aristocrats from the Renaissance as well as one that struck him as religious for some reason. He liked all of them.
“Here ya go!” Clay said as he came in. “One scotch on the rocks. Please sit down.”
“I was just admiring your paintings. They’re beautiful! That one there. Who are the men in the picture?” Alex asked, pointing to one of the paintings.
“That’s a copy of a painting by Raphael titled The School of Athens.”
“I thought it had a kinda religious look to it.”
“It’s not, but the painting was commissioned by Pope Julius the Second. The men in the painting are Plato, Aristotle, Socrates, Euclid, Pythagoras, and Epicurus, the great philosophers of ancient Greece, as you know. The painting reminds me that there have been and always will be greater minds in the world than those in Washington.”
“You can say that again. I saw all of them up close and personal. The things I could tell you would curl your hair.”
“My hair curls just from what I read in the newspapers. I can only imagine what they get up to when no one is looking. Do you like these paintings and watercolors?”
“Yes, very much, especially the landscapes. That’s definitely different scenery than I’m used to seeing. Until recently, my world was filled with marble, statues, and great edifices. I would’ve preferred these landscapes so much more.”
“That helps me a great deal in choosing where to look at works for your house. Would you like to go next week?” Clay asked.
“Sure. You pick the date and time, and I’ll be there. Be good to have something to admire on my walls for a change.”
“Great. I look forward to the search, and I’ll call you next week to set up the day and time.”
“Okay. Mmm, smells wonderful in here. Takes me back to my childhood during the holidays,” Alex said.
“Same here. We were a very traditional small family and rarely deviated from the norm. So, if there’s a turkey in the oven, it must be Thanksgiving!”
“Traditional, huh? Does that explain why you have so little experience with the gay world?” Alex asked, probing for answers.
Clay sipped his apple cider before answering. “Let’s just say that my father told me on more than one occasion that there had never been a homosexual in our family. He made it sound like it would be the end of civilization if that ever occurred. My mother just clicked her tongue whenever the subject came up as too indelicate for her ears. For me to have told them I was gay would have brought their world down. It just wasn’t done in my family.”
“They never suspected at all?”
“Nope. Since I couldn’t tell them about myself, I couldn’t very well date casually, and I didn’t dare bring anyone home.”
“Pardon me for asking, but what did you do for sex?”
“I went into New York City a few times and visited the bookstores. You could have quickie sex there or out back in an alley. Once I picked up a hustler, and we did it under a bridge.”
“You hired a hustler? Why?” Alex asked, sounding a little shocked.
“Because it was easy, and I was so desperate for intimate contact that I ignored the sordidness of it. With a hustler, you don’t have to dance around. You agree on a price for what you wanna do, and then you find a place to finish the transaction. When we were done, he turned and left, and I drove home as quickly as I could so I could shower.”
“It doesn’t sound like you enjoyed it much.”
“I didn’t. Once my immediate need was met, I f
elt dirty.”
“Shit, you’ve really never had a proper boyfriend, have you?”
“Does it sound like it? Unless you wanna count the guys I spent twenty minutes with boyfriends. No, I’ve always been single and never had any kind of a relationship. I tried to never have sex with the same guy twice. It was much safer that way, and I didn’t want anyone to get hurt looking for something that I wasn’t prepared to give.”
“But surely now that you live here in Rehoboth, you’ve had sex. I mean, there are a lot of nice, attractive gay men around here.”
“No, I’ve only had two dates, and you know about both of them. Please, let’s not talk about this part of my life any longer. It’s Thanksgiving, and I wanna enjoy the day!”
“That’s a deal, my friend,” Alex replied with a smile.
“Friend? Are we friends?” Clayton asked softly as if speaking to himself.
“Of course we’re friends. I don’t invite people over to my house that I don’t consider friends. Don’t you think we’re friends?”
“Yeah, I guess we are friends at that. Except for that little disagreement we had, I enjoy being with you. You’re smart, easy on the eyes, and you have a neat sense of humor.”
“You left out one part….”
“Oh? What did I leave out?”
“The fact that I’m sexy as hell, and your temperature goes up when I walk into the room!”
Clayton laughed and rocked back into the sofa. “See, you’re funny! Okay, I’m gonna get the food on the table, and then we can eat,” he said as he laughed his way into the kitchen.
“Well, it wasn’t that damn funny!” Alex thought as he finished the scotch in his glass.
Ten minutes later, Alex got up to see if he could help Clayton, only to find the table filled with food and Clayton struggling to open a bottle of wine.
“Here you go. Sit and let me do that,” Alex said.
As Clayton sat down, he heard the distinctive pop of a cork pulled from its prison. After opening the bottle of white wine as well, Alex brought both bottles into the dining room. He asked if Clayton wanted red or white and poured the first glasses.