Gnarly

by Mickie B. Ashling

  “How long did you play professionally?”

  “Twenty years as a pro, but as I mentioned earlier, I started playing when I was a kid.”

  “I played baseball growing up, but school always took priority,” Ed said. “Why didn’t your parents insist you learn a trade or get some higher education?”

  Iker put down his utensils and stared at Ed like he’d lost his mind. “Are you for real?”

  Ed blinked a few times, taken aback by Iker’s question. “What did I say?”

  “Ed, I come from a very humble background,” Iker said. “Most of the people in my village are either fishermen or sheepherders. Kids who wanted to escape the same dreary life had to make it as a jai alai player. College was never an option.”

  “I see,” Ed said, feeling foolish. “Well, I’m glad you got out of there. Now we just have to figure out what you’re going to do with the rest of your life.”

  “We?”

  “Two heads are better than one, right?”

  Iker cocked his head. “What’s in it for you?”

  “Nothing,” Ed said heatedly. “Why does there have to be an ulterior motive?”

  “We just met,” Iker said.

  “And you’re a nice guy with a good head on your shoulders. I’d like to help in any way I can, but there’s no payback involved. Jesus, Iker. Don’t be so suspicious.”

  “You never answered my question about you and Javi.”

  “It’s really none of your business.”

  “Were you lovers?” Iker persisted.

  “Why do you need to know?”

  Iker huffed in frustration and his shoulders slumped as he leaned back in his seat. “You’re not going to answer, are you?”

  “Not unless you tell me why you’re so curious.”

  “Forget it,” Iker said. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s obvious you and Javi are connected somehow.”

  “Is it?”

  “To me it is.”

  “How about I tell you the whole story on our way to Markina,” Ed said. “I’d like us to be friends.”

  Iker picked up his knife and fork and began to eat again, but not before he bobbed his head in agreement. “Sounds good.”

  Chapter 9

  ED SPLURGED and rented a sporty Mercedes Coupe, similar to his new car, but this one had a soft-top they removed immediately. It was too beautiful a day not to take advantage. The sun was shining, and cloudless blue skies matched Iker’s eyes as they sparkled with excitement. When Ed suggested Iker drive, he looked shocked.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, one leg already in the vehicle. It was clear he couldn’t wait to get behind the wheel.

  “Absolutely sure.”

  “Thank you,” Iker said, smiling widely. “Strap in.”

  They drove along N-634, the dizzying pass that ran along the Cantabrian coast with craggy cliffs ending on pristine beaches. The scene quickly changed from sea to sloping Alpine mountains dotted with pines and stone cottages trimmed in red or green paint. Winding along the road with soft music in the background, Ed was mesmerized with the scenery, in and out of the car. Iker looked euphoric as the Mercedes took each curve with unerring precision.

  “What kind of car did you drive in Florida?” Ed asked.

  “Nothing like this,” Iker said, giving him a sidelong glance. “My Eclipse was my pride and joy, but it wasn’t in the same league as a Benz.”

  “It’s great, isn’t it? I have one just like it back home.”

  Iker’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  They didn’t say much after that, and Ed wondered if he should have kept the info on his own car to himself. It only reinforced Iker’s barely employed status. Since it was too late to retract his words, Ed made a promise to himself to be more circumspect and leave money and jobs out of any future conversations. It was a mood killer, and he wanted them to have a pleasant day.

  As they continued their drive, Ed absorbed the untarnished beauty of the landscape, until they passed a few spray-painted slogans along the road, reminders of the Basque separatists and their aggressive need to keep the land to themselves. Although progress was inevitable, they fought each new highway or bus route. Easier access meant more visitors, which would potentially lead to a loss of autonomy.

  In Markina itself, men sat around in groups near the fronton wearing traditional berets, drinking coffee, and arguing in Euskara, the identifying language spoken by a small percentage of the population, according to Ed’s research. Iker translated as they walked past, letting Ed know it was all par for the course even if it sounded like they were about to come to blows. This raw display of machismo was so inherent in the Basque culture Iker didn’t even flinch as arms flailed and voices rose in excitement.

  “You’re lucky you speak the language,” Ed commented. “I’ve been told it’s impossible to learn as an adult.”

  “My parents never spoke anything else,” Iker said. “I consider myself fortunate. A lot of young people don’t speak it anymore. It’s fading away, like jai alai; a sad thing,” he noted. “But you’re in the heart of Basque Country right now, and Euskara is our default.”

  “I find it intriguing that your language has been spoken longer than any other modern European language and yet no one has been able to pinpoint its origins.”

  Iker shrugged. “It’s just part of my heritage. I’ve never lost sleep wondering how it all came about.”

  “A lot of people are interested in their roots,” Ed said. “In America, we spend small fortunes on ancestry websites trying to figure out where we’ve come from.”

  “I guess it’s not a concern because I can trace my family back hundreds of years.”

  “You’re luckier than most.”

  “Did you have to research your ancestors?” Iker asked curiously.

  “No, it was easy to fill out my family tree, which is originally from England, where they keep pretty good records. I’m third-generation American.”

  “Is ancestry research a hobby of yours?” Iker persisted.

  “I’m just naturally inquisitive,” Ed said, smiling sheepishly. “When I first met Javi, I knew absolutely nothing about the Basque culture. It was eye-opening.”

  “Are we that weird?” Iker asked ruefully.

  “Not weird, but definitely fascinating.”

  “Is that what brought you back this time?” Iker asked, looking at him askance. “Are you studying us again?”

  Ed shook his head. “Not at all. I’ve returned to the area because I enjoyed my first stay and thought I’d recapture some special moments.”

  “With Javi?”

  “You’re relentless,” Ed remarked. “Nothing’s going on with him.”

  “Whatever you say, Doc.”

  Inside the fronton, Iker spotted a few familiar faces and they stopped to greet them and exchange pleasantries. Once again, Ed didn’t understand a word, but there was a lot of backslapping and laughter, so he assumed everything was okay.

  The game itself was a revelation—fast-paced and a little acrobatic. Ed watched as Iker explained.

  “It’s sort of a round robin where one pelotari scoops the small ball into a cesta and throws it forcefully against one of three walls. The opposing player then catches it and returns the throw. First one to drop the ball leaves the court and the next pelotari takes his place.”

  Ed admired the maneuvers as one guy twisted around like a pretzel while the other climbed part of the wall in an effort not to drop the ball. Aside from the encouraging shouts coming from the crowd, the only other sound was the squeak of rubber soles on the concrete surface and the loud thwack of the ball bouncing off the wall and thudding into the reed mitt.

  “How hard is that ball?” Ed asked.

  “Rock-hard,” Iker said ruefully. “Getting hit by that thing is as bad as getting shot.”

  “I’ll bet,” Ed said. “Does it happen often?”

  Iker snorted. “All the time. When I was training
, I was black-and-blue most days. It’s really bad if you get hit in the neck or face. The helmet can only protect your head. Back in 2001, one of the best players in Dania got hit in the face. He had to undergo surgery to repair the bone structure around his eye. He had two fractures. If it had been a direct hit, his eye would have been a goner. Before helmets became mandatory in 1968, players died from internal bleeding.”

  “Jesus Christ. What is that ball made of?”

  “Rubber wrapped in goatskin. It also travels at speeds up to 300 kilometers an hour and easily shatters bulletproof glass.”

  “A deadly weapon in every sense.”

  Iker nodded, looking serious suddenly. “The problem with getting hit isn’t just the pain. It fucks with your confidence, and returning to your level of excellence before the injury isn’t always possible. A lot of players who’ve been hurt retire shortly after because they lose their nerve.”

  “And yet, the sport continues,” Ed remarked.

  “It’s part of our culture,” Iker said. “The Basques have been playing jai alai in one form or another for over four centuries.”

  “You guys are a little nuts, you know that?” Ed teased.

  “What about your football players?” Iker countered. “Talk about batshit crazy.”

  Ed laughed. “Point taken.”

  They stayed for a few games and then left to get some lunch in one of the restaurants close by. After they were seated, sharing a carafe of house red, Iker brought up the subject of Javi again. Ed’s mood plummeted. He was out of excuses and he had promised to be forthcoming today.

  “So what do you want to know?” Ed asked, fortifying himself with a few more gulps of wine.

  “Did you two hook up?”

  “The word hookup has such a bad connotation,” Ed said.

  “Why don’t you tell me in your own words,” Iker suggested. “We’ve got all afternoon.”

  “Let’s start out by saying I was happily married until my wife died five years ago. I have twin boys, Avery and Aiden. They’re close to finishing college.”

  Iker’s eyes widened.

  “I thought you should know some of the backstory,” Ed explained.

  Iker leaned forward. “I’m not here to judge. Tell me whatever you think is important.”

  Ed huffed in consternation. “I’m fifty-two years old and out of my element for the first time in years. It’s ridiculous, if you want to know the honest truth.”

  Iker sat back and lifted both hands in a typical Basque gesture that meant who the fuck knows.

  Ed clutched his wineglass. “Look, Iker. This is a tough subject for me.”

  “We can drop it for now,” Iker said, “but I’d like to understand so I don’t step on anyone’s toes.”

  Ed stared. He didn’t owe Iker any explanation, but there was something about his earnest face that set Ed at ease. Not to mention the disturbing fact that he was physically attracted to the guy and couldn’t come to terms with it. Perhaps Iker could offer some insight. Making his decision, Ed set some ground rules.

  “I’d rather not spend the afternoon discussing my sex life, but you asked, and I’m not in the habit of avoidance. I’ll tell you what I can and then I’d like to drop the entire subject. Is that okay with you?”

  “Sure. No two stories are ever alike. I’d love to hear yours.”

  “I met Javi when I was touring Europe with a group of friends. It was the summer before I entered medical school. Somehow I found myself in a three-way relationship with Javi and a girl I’d met in Sweden. I’d never been with a man before that. I don’t know why I responded to him, but I fell in lust with the guy. Big-time. We were going at it like dogs in heat.”

  “And the girl?”

  Ed shook his head. “She dropped out of the picture almost immediately.”

  “What happened when you left?”

  Ed grabbed a piece of bread and began tearing at it savagely. “Absolutely nothing. I got caught up in school, and when I met Carol, my future wife, the hot Spaniard became a distant memory.”

  “Didn’t you guys keep in touch?” Iker asked. “I get it if you didn’t want to be seen with a guy on your turf, but Javi traveled the world. You could have met him anywhere.”

  “And that’s the problem,” Ed said. “I never made an attempt to stay in contact. To my mind it was simply a fling that didn’t need to be revisited. And to make matters worse, I show up after thirty years and basically tell him to get on with life instead of wallowing in his misery.”

  “Why’d you ignore him if you felt so strongly about him? I don’t get it.”

  “I told you,” Ed said defensively. “Carol and I fell in love, got married, and had kids. Normal stuff!”

  Iker frowned. “I don’t know what it was like in the eighties, but in this century, being in a same-sex relationship isn’t considered abnormal. I’m glad we never met back then. I probably would have knocked your head off if I heard you say shit like that.”

  Ed was taken aback by the sudden shift in Iker’s mood and he did his best to smooth over the awkwardness. “I know it sounds awful, and I apologize for my word choice, but you’ve got to put yourself in my shoes for a moment. Javi was my first and only male lover. I chalked up our encounter to summer madness mixed in with a lot of booze. We were drunk half of the time.”

  “Bah!” Iker said, scoffing. “What you had with Javi wasn’t an encounter, Ed. Those are usually one-offs. It sounds like you had a love affair. Maybe you chose to ignore it because confronting your orientation would have changed your life.”

  “So what are you saying?” Ed asked frostily. “I’m a closeted asshole?”

  Iker shrugged. “Your words, not mine.”

  “How does one go from straight to gay after one kiss?” Ed retorted. “It makes no sense.”

  “Love never does.”

  “Oh, please,” Ed said, rolling his eyes. “I was never in love with Javi. It was plain old lust. When I took the Kinsey scale in college, I was a solid two.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m predominantly heterosexual.”

  “Predominantly doesn’t mean exclusively, does it?”

  “No, but it means I’m more hetero than anything else.”

  “That scale is bullshit,” Iker said. “If you had sex with Javi and enjoyed it….”

  Ed looked at Iker pensively. “So you’re saying if I act like a duck and quack like a duck—”

  “You’re in denial and need to get over it,” Iker said blandly.

  The aggression had retreated, and it felt like he was offering Ed a chance to make things right between them. He took the peace offering without hesitation.

  “Perhaps I am bisexual,” Ed conceded.

  “Why do you need a label anyway?”

  “Because I’m uncomfortable without it,” Ed said honestly. “I’m not as evolved as you are.”

  “Maybe it’s time to make a few changes,” Iker said gently. “You’re an accomplished doctor and a responsible father from what you’ve told me. I find it hard to believe that your sons will turn on you if you sit them down and tell them the whole story. What you’re feeling for Javi doesn’t take away the love you felt for their mother. Young people are more tolerant than you realize.”

  Ed looked up sharply. “I’m not telling them about Javi!”

  “Then don’t mention him, but you can say you’re bisexual. It’s not the end of the world, Ed. Some very famous people claim that label.”

  “I don’t give a damn about other people,” Ed snapped. “I’m trying to understand why I’m jonesing for the pair of you after being happily married to a woman for over twenty-five years.”

  “Excuse me?” Iker asked. “Did you just say the pair of you?”

  “I misspoke,” Ed amended quickly.

  Iker gave him a sly smile. “Too bad. The idea of a three-way with you and Javi is hot.”

  Ed was horrified to feel his cock taking the bait. The image of them sprawled in h
is bed, naked and entwined, made him catch his breath. Blood rushed to his cheeks and his heart thudded loudly in his head. It felt like he’d been racing toward the edge of a cliff, charging nonstop until he flew out into the void, and the only thing preventing him from dropping a thousand feet and splattering on the rocks below was Iker. When had this stranger turned into his anchor?

  As if he could read his mind, Iker reached across the table and grabbed Ed’s hand, which had been busy making little piles with the breadcrumbs he’d scattered over the fine linen.

  “I think it’s time to go,” Iker said.

  “Agreed,” Ed said, trying desperately to regain his equilibrium. Signaling the waiter, he asked for the bill, and when it was presented, he paid with his credit card. Iker motioned to leave a tip, but Ed reached for his hand to stop him.

  “My treat,” he said brusquely.

  “Thank you,” Iker replied.

  They were subdued on the way home. Once again, Ed insisted Iker drive, giving himself the opportunity to dwell on their conversation. The flush of arousal he’d experienced at the restaurant had evaporated, and he was worn out. In light of their conversation, he gave some serious thought to all the possibilities. Had he been in denial all these years in order to keep the status quo? Family, wife, children, career. Wasn’t that supposed to take priority over anything else? If so, he’d done his part, and quite well, he wanted to add. But maybe now it was time to rethink his priorities.

  Being bisexual didn’t take anything away from his previous life. Why not admit he’d had feelings for Javi all along? And what of Iker? Was he just caught up in this shitstorm because Ed had a thing for Basque men? Ed knew he was prevaricating before he even finished his thought. Iker was attractive in his own right and shouldn’t end up as collateral damage.

  With thoughts of both men on his mind, he fell asleep and didn’t stir until Iker shook him awake. They were in the underground parking beneath Plaza Cataluña. For a second he was disoriented by the dim lighting and Iker’s scruffy face inches away from his mouth. He was tempted to pull him in for a kiss, then thought better of it. There would be time enough if he chose to pursue this course. For now, it would be better to keep his distance. If he were going to make a move on anyone, it would be Javi.