Martin stepped out from the shadows and stood beside him. They put their arms on each other’s shoulders and were nearly bursting with delight at the response they got from Martin’s parents. Both his mother and father cried out at the sight of their son.
Martin’s mother wrapped him in a huge hug, and his father patted his back.
“You boys get in here. You’re letting all the heat out,” Mr. Fuller ordered.
Theodore was tired but decided a few minutes wouldn’t hurt, especially since the alternative was leaving Martin when they’d only just been reunited. After coats were hung and boots removed, Mrs. Fuller ushered them into the kitchen and parked them at the table. Mr. Fuller tagged along and took a seat before asking, “Why didn’t you let us know you were coming, Son?”
“I didn’t know myself until today. I got up this morning and just decided it was time for a visit, so I hopped on an early train and just got in a short while ago. I stopped by Hoffman’s Store to pick up this one,” Martin said, reaching over to playfully tousle Theodore’s hair. It was a system they had worked out over the years so they could enjoy each other’s touch while surrounded by people. That and the arm thrown around the shoulder were their most common moves.
Mrs. Fuller produced a plate of cookies along with the offer of tea or coffee. Her cookies were legendary in the valley. Martin and Theodore both took a cookie and practically moaned on the first bite.
“Oh, how I’ve missed these,” Martin told his mother, words that made her smile.
“It must have cost you a fortune to get a train on Christmas Eve,” Martin’s father commented.
“It wasn’t cheap, but there were a few empty seats on the train. Don’t get me wrong, there weren’t many—the train was mostly full. I guess everyone who wanted to go home had gone earlier in the week.”
“What a wonderful surprise to have you here with us for Christmas,” Mrs. Fuller remarked again. “Since it’s just the two of us, we haven’t put up any decorations or anything festive. I’ll have to go up into the attic and see what I can find.”
“No, please don’t,” Martin instructed. “Please, sit with us, talk with us. I’ve missed you folks.”
“So what is life like in the great big city?” his father asked.
“Wonderful. I love it. My job is good. I’ve got lots of friends.”
Theodore sat up straighter at that. What friends? Martin had not mentioned any friends in his letters. But then he suddenly remembered how little Martin had actually been able to say in his carefully worded letters.
“And do you have a steady gal?” his father inquired.
“I’ve got many friends, and I don’t want to tie myself down with anyone right now.”
“You’re not getting any younger, Son. A fine young man like you should be finished with sowing his wild oats and should be getting settled down with a nice wife and then some children.”
Martin’s happy look was slipping away. Theodore knew Martin had had this same talk with his parents on a number of occasions. They had never understood his desire to move to New York in the first place. Martin’s return to see his parents for the first time since he’d left their valley two and a half years earlier opened him up for a revisiting of that conversation.
“A family takes a lot of money, Papa. My job is good but not that good just yet. I need to become more established and more secure in my profession before I even consider something like that.”
Theodore watched his best friend and his father debate. He knew the script that each man would follow, but he still paid close attention to their words.
“It’s time to become a man and do what a man is supposed to do.”
“I am a man, Papa. A man is responsible, but he has to have the resources to take care of a family.”
Their conversation went back and forth for some time, with both sides remaining fully entrenched. Martin seemed uncomfortable and was becoming increasingly annoyed. Theodore suspected this conversation was one of the reasons Martin had not returned home.
After a quick check of his pocket watch, Theodore knew he needed to get on to his own home. “I’m afraid I must head home. My mother will be waiting. She will not go to bed until I’m home each night.” Rising, he said his good nights, lingering perhaps a moment longer than necessary with his hug for Martin. Once again he felt the telltale stiffening in Martin’s midsection, a feeling he had so desperately missed during the time they had been separated.
“My mother is cooking a feast tomorrow,” Theodore announced. “She still cooks as if there is a huge family to feed, but they all have their own families now and no longer come home for the holidays. There is just entirely too much for my father and I to possibly eat. So, why don’t you all come over and join us?” Theodore took a chance with his invitation. He knew he should clear such a thing with his mother first, but he wanted more time with Martin, and that was about the only option he could come up with on short notice.
“No, we wouldn’t want to impose,” Mrs. Fuller protested.
“No imposition. You weren’t planning on having a houseguest, especially one who can eat his own weight in a single meal,” Theodore joked, taking his turn at tousling Martin’s hair. “I won’t take no for an answer. Tomorrow at 2:00 p.m. I’ll be highly offended if you don’t attend.”
Mr. Fuller responded for himself and his wife, “We weren’t planning to do anything special for the holiday,” he explained. “We’d be delighted.”
“Wonderful. I’m off. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Partly due to the cold and partly due to his excitement, Theodore ran the rest of the way home. When he told his mother he’d invited the Fullers to dinner the next day, he was met with all sorts of protestations.
“Theodore, how could you?” she demanded. “This house is a mess. I was only planning on three for dinner.”
“Mother.” Theodore gave her a sweet smile.
“You and that smile of yours,” she said, trying to be angry and failing. “You know I can’t say no to you, my boy.”
“Why would you? I’m so sweet,” he joked. “You still cook like we were a much larger family, even though I’m the only one left at home.”
“I can’t help it. I cooked for so many for a lot of years. It’s hard to make the switch to cooking less.”
She swatted him as she headed into the kitchen to check on Theodore’s dinner.
They all retired for the night, Theodore excited at the prospect of time with Martin the following day, and his mother and father with checklists of things they wanted to do before guests arrived.
Chapter Three—Martin
CHRISTMAS DAY 1902 dawned gray and dreary. It was a Thursday that year. Since he’d started working, Theodore had come to have a special appreciation for times when Christmas fell on a Saturday or a Monday, giving him two whole days off back-to-back. But a Thursday was better than nothing.
While the weather was overcast and dull, the mood inside the McCall household was decidedly upbeat. Despite the protestations of the previous evening, Mrs. McCall seemed delighted at the prospect of having their neighbors and friends over for dinner.
“I’m so looking forward to seeing Martin again,” she remarked to her son when their paths crossed once that morning. “I still don’t see why he felt the need to go so far from home.”
“He loves it in New York,” Theodore reminded her for about the twentieth time.
“He was always here so much when you boys were growing up. It was almost like having another son. When he left, I felt the loss along with his mama.”
Theodore wanted to say, “Me too,” but knew that he couldn’t.
The house was put in readiness in short order. A couple of fine big turkeys that his father had shot earlier in the week were roasting in the oven, along with an assortment of other things already prepared or in the process of being prepared. The house smelled heavenly with the aromas of cooking.
For Theodore the hardest part of the day was waiting for two o’clo
ck to finally roll around. The morning seemed to drag, despite the fact that he was busy with preparations. When he finally heard a knock at the door, his heart soared because he knew when the door was opened, his Martin would be on the other side.
Mr. McCall opened the door. “Come in! Come in! Let me take your jackets,” he offered since they were all bundled up against the cold outside.
Theodore had a bet with himself over how long it would take his mother to ask again why Martin had found the need to go so far from home. He was giving odds to her getting that question in within the first five minutes. He won.
The parents at least held up on the other annoying questions until they were all seated around the table for dinner about half an hour later. The meal was fantastic, although Theodore’s mother was fretting and stewing about how she could have, or should have, done this or that thing differently. Theodore and his father let her words all pass because they were accustomed to the comments.
When everyone was stuffed to the gills and sitting back with coffee or tea, Theodore was not surprised that his mother homed in on Martin’s marital status, or lack thereof.
“Martin, Theodore works so hard he hasn’t had time to date, but when are we going to hear about the young girl you’ve been dating?” she asked.
“Excuse me?” he asked.
“Well, surely you must have a favorite girl by now. You’ve been in New York long enough to get to know quite a few, I would imagine.”
Theodore felt for his friend, but also knew Martin had memorized lines he followed. Many of the lines Theodore had heard the previous night were repeated for the benefit of Mrs. McCall.
When that line of questioning was exhausted, Theodore’s father rose from the table and invited Martin’s father to accompany him into the living room where the chairs were more comfortable. Mrs. Fuller suggested that she and Mrs. McCall get to work on the dishes.
“Why don’t you two go sit down in the living room as well,” Theodore suggested.
“And just who is going to do all these dishes if we do that, young man?” his mother asked indignantly.
“Martin and I will wash the dishes. You two go sit and relax. You’ve been cooking all day.”
“Theodore McCall. I swear. Sometimes you have the craziest ideas. Kitchen work is not something men should be doing.”
He shrugged. He’d tried. Martin gave him a knowing smile. While their mothers washed dishes and their fathers dozed in the living room, assuming they were on their usual schedules, Theodore and Martin retired to Theodore’s bedroom upstairs.
Once they were safely behind closed doors, Martin wrapped his arms around Theodore and gave him a big kiss. “Merry Christmas, Teddy.”
Theodore had held off as long as he could. He dropped to his knees in front of Martin and deftly unfastened his belt and loosened his suspenders, thus allowing his pants to fall to the floor. Martin’s underwear was equally easy to dispense with, leaving Theodore with the prize he sought. Wasting no time, he wrapped his lips around Martin.
It might have been the fact that they were Theodore’s lips, or it might have been the fact that they were doing this in a time and place where they really were taking a risk, or it may have been a combination of both factors, but Martin erupted faster than he had during his teenage years.
When Martin finished, Theodore kept his lips firmly in place to catch any drips or drops that remained. That, plus he just enjoyed the feel of Martin’s penis in his mouth once again.
They both heard something downstairs that jolted them back to reality. Together they got Martin presentable, even though the sound turned out to be nothing of consequence for them.
Sitting side by side on Theodore’s bed with their backs against the wall, they finally had a moment alone to catch up. While they would have preferred a repeat of what they’d done, neither dared to attempt it again.
“So, Teddy, tell me about what you do in Hoffman’s Store.”
Theodore sighed. “Nothing very challenging, I’m afraid. Mostly I wait on customers when they come in to look for or buy something. I write up their sale, collect their payment, and package their goods for them. If they have a lot of purchases I help to carry their items out to their buggy or wagon. When the farmers come into town they tend to buy a lot, so those days are workouts.”
“You’re not using any of your legendary math skills?” Martin asked with a look of astonishment on his face. “You used to love mathematics, and you were always trying to teach the teacher things you’d taught yourself. You were so far beyond his knowledge when it came to math. And he never was comfortable admitting that he’d been bested by a lowly student.”
“I remember.”
“So you really don’t use it at all. That’s so sad.”
“I tote up the prices on what customers have purchased,” Theodore explained halfheartedly. “But that’s about it.”
“The place where I work we’re desperate for young men with strong math skills. There’s a position open in my office right now, and my boss is having a heck of a time finding qualified candidates. There’re lots of men wanting to work, but a far smaller number with the all-important high school diploma.
“I was reading a newspaper article on the train ride in here yesterday that said only something like five percent of all Americans ever even graduate from high school. I’ve never understood why so many men drop out of school way before they could graduate.”
“I thought a lot of people were migrating to the cities,” Theodore observed. “I remember you writing that in one of your letters.”
“Oh, it’s true, there are a lot of people moving to New York. And lots of foreigners coming in all the time as well, but very few of the foreigners have much education, and those who are Americans tend to have more education, but not in mathematics. So we’ve been having a tough time filling that position.”
“What does something like that pay?” Theodore asked.
“I believe the starting salary is five hundred dollars per year. Why? Are you maybe interested? That would be incredible if you were.”
“Five hundred dollars a year is a great deal more than I earn now, but I also have next to no living expenses. If I were to move to New York City, I would have to find housing, food, and travel to work. That would all cost money,” he argued.
“All true.”
Still, the idea of earning five hundred dollars in one year was tempting. It was more than twice what he earned now as a lowly clerk in a dry goods store in a backwater town in Western Pennsylvania. He remembered how excited both he and Martin had been when they had graduated in 1899, both sure they were on the cusp of something magnificent. They were convinced that graduating and entering the workforce just as one century gave way to another was a prophetic sign of greatness ahead.
His contemplation of the situation was interrupted by his mother calling from downstairs. It sounded like she was saying, “Pie.”
“Oh, dear Lord,” Martin moaned. “Please don’t tell me that she’s going to try to stuff even more food into us. I feel like I’m about to explode as it is.”
“I believe you’ve met my mother on previous occasions,” Theodore commented, knowing that nothing more needed to be said in explanation.
They both groaned as they got up and made their way back downstairs, where Mrs. McCall did indeed have dessert waiting for everyone. Not only was there pie but also a beautiful lemon cake and something with a cream filing that Theodore did not recognize.
Fortunately, while there were more questions for Martin during dessert, Mr. McCall asked the questions and kept to safer subjects, at least safer in his son’s eyes.
“How long are you here for, Martin?” he asked.
“Only a couple of days. I need to head back the day after tomorrow.”
Clearly he had not broken that news to his parents yet, because his mother nearly dropped her pie plate as she cried, “The day after tomorrow? Why, that’s insane! You just got here. You can’t travel all
that distance only to turn around and go right back.”
“Sorry, Mother, but I have to go back to work on Monday.”
“Well, go back on Sunday at least,” she half suggested and half demanded.
“Sorry. I’ve already got my ticket. Plus I’ve got plans for Sunday, so I need to be back in the city by then.”
“What plans?” she asked indignantly.
“Plans” was his only answer. Martin didn’t say anything more.
Martin’s father came to his rescue. “Leave the boy alone. We should be grateful we get to spend a couple of days with him.”
“Teddy,” Martin said, “what are your plans for tomorrow?”
“I’m working tomorrow.”
“Oh, boo! You’re no fun. When do you get your lunch break?”
“Twelve o’clock.”
“I want to take you to lunch.”
“I don’t mean to be difficult, but I only get a half hour for lunch, and typically Mr. Hoffman’s wife gives us lunch that we eat at their dining room table upstairs over the store.”
“For someone who isn’t trying to be difficult, you are making this very difficult,” Martin jokingly complained. “Dinner?”
“Sure,” Theodore answered with a smile.
“Excellent.”
A few minutes later, the Fuller family departed to head back to their own farm. Theodore was left with both a warm glow from the day as well as a feeling of longing, knowing Martin was so close yet, at the same time, so far away.
Chapter Four—Birth of a Crazy Idea
THE COLD hit Theodore before he’d taken a single step out of the house the next morning. The wind he’d felt the last time he’d made this walk was fortunately gone, but still, there was something about leaving before dawn that made the cold feel just that much more intense.
Over the years, he’d made the trek from his parents’ house to town countless times. But that particular morning it felt more torturous than any other time he could remember.
Even though Christmas was now past, Theodore got a present nonetheless when he walked past the Fuller farm, because, much to his surprise, waiting for him on the road was none other than Martin. Just the sight of his best friend brought him an overwhelming sense of relief. He threw caution to the wind and embraced Martin right there out in the open in broad predawn daylight. He did at least have the common sense to not make it a long hug.
A Night at the Ariston Baths Page 2