Baked In Seattle

by Shaw Sander

  My phone rang.

  “Al, it’s Gitta. You guys busy tomorrow for brunch? Drake and Larry want us all over there. Inga has a new tooth and she sorta crawls now, if you help her.”

  “How’s the cats?”

  Both kids wanted to know, swapping out custody of the dog and calling me together on speaker phone.

  “Great. I think they’re happy. They’re getting their winter coats.”

  “I’m going back to school, Mom,” Peanut said. “Winter quarter.”

  “Honey, that’s wonderful.”

  “I’m still gonna be part-time at the garden center.”

  “Do what you have to.”

  “I’m gonna go to grad school, Mom, I decided,” Dew chimed in.

  “Man, is it the water back there or what? I think this is great.”

  “Well, I thought maybe I’d just prolong paying back my loans as long as possible.”

  “Then you can get a PhD after that!”

  “I could conceivably go to school forever, then, right?”

  “Entirely possible.”

  “Well, I’m gonna stick with one degree.”

  Peanut didn’t want to keep going.

  “Either way. You guys know what’s best for your own selves.”

  “I’ma be down there in two weeks, Al. I want to see you and shake that motherfucker’s hand. He got a good job, sounds like.”

  Simon had a new gig at Fort Lewis, a civilian logistics job. “Now you can kick back and write a little bit. I hope you told FedEx to suck your dick.”

  “Malcolm, that company did me a lot of good over the years. I don’t know why you diss them all the time.”

  “They liked you better when you were dykey. And they worked you to the bone and paid you shit.”

  “Well….I got along okay. But yes, I did tell them goodbye after all those years. Simon can support the show for a while and I’ll see if I can write something worth a damn while I start the little cheesecake business.”

  “You can smoke paca-lolo now that you’re no longer employee number 54526, is that right?”

  I could hear the smile in his voice.

  “Why, yes I can,” I grinned into the phone. “Looking forward to seeing you, babe.”

  “I’ll bring you a little sumpum-sumpum. Love the bakery name.”

  Larry’s Capitol Hill home had never looked lovelier. In fact, everything about Seattle seemed to glisten and sparkle, washed in the morning rains. Fall morning sweater weather gave way to four o’clock short-sleeved sunshine, leaves alive in red and gold.

  Drake ran to the foyer as we rang the front porch bell, his bare feet slapping on the radiant-heat wood floors. Flinging the door open, he threw his arms around both Simon and me, howling with joy.

  “How are you, darling? You’re absolutely skeletal, very Kate Hepburn. And Simon, you’re hunky as ever. Lemme hug that barrel chest one more time!”

  “How are you, Drake,” Simon grinned. “And how’s that partner of yours? Still doing good deeds with old family money?”

  “He is giving it away as fast as he can, helping everyone he can get his hands on. Senior services for the gay community is his new thing. Ask him about it over the smoked whitefish he got especially for Miss Thing here.”

  “Smoked fish? Really?”

  My eyes lit up. I hoped there were bagels and thinly sliced onions. I heard a little voice cooing behind me, soft and baby-like.

  “Look at that child! She’s a perfect angel!” I shrieked as Gitta and Jerry came up the walk, a blond vision in Jerry’s arms. Inga was Gitta’s little mini-me in tights, and her matching hat and muff in red velvet made her achingly cute.

  Gitta and I hugged as the fellows all pumped hands and patted backs. Inga reached her arms out for Simon, deciding he was worthy of her princess attention and there she would stay for the course of the afternoon, never leaving his side.

  “Why are you all still out here on the porch? Am I heating all of outdoors? Goodness gracious, Drake, let the people come inside!” Larry scolded, wiping his hands on a lime-green full-body apron as he came to the front door. “Ladies and gentlemen and princess Inga, please come in the house and try my hot highly-mulled cider.” He kissed the baby on both her red cheeks. “I have hot, well, warm chocolate for you, Buttercup, I don’t care what your parents say about it, it’s a special occasion. Oh, it’s so good to see you, Al. Now, Inga, my little lamb, you need to unlock your arms from around Simon’s neck for just a weensy little moment-o and come see my new puppy Cuppy. He’s about as big as a teacup and he will lick your little nose. Drake, be a lamb and take the coats into the music room, please.”

  Larry carried Inga to the kitchen with a wink.

  “Something smells awesome,” Jerry said, cuddling Gitta in what looked like a rare moment without their daughter between them.

  “I think it’s ham,” I said, sniffing the air and looking around in wonder at my friends all in one room.

  “Okay, cocktails, everyone,” Drake clapped his hands, pointing at the bar in the corner. We all bellied up, our arms around each other’s waists, happy to see one another again. Gitta pressed her hand into mine.

  “Yes, cheers,” Larry sang, his hand on Inga’s head as she sat in front of him holding a blue rhinestone-covered leash. The tiniest dog I had ever seen was happily bouncing around in front of the blond baby girl. It’s little toenails tink-a-tinka-ed on the hard wood, sounding like Huckleberry Hound on tip-toe. A pink bow blossoming around the neck dwarfed the little pooch’s head.

  “This, everyone, is our newest arrival, Candy Coated Streamlined Baby Cupcake a la’Orange, aka Cupcake, aka Cuppy. Isn’t she the sweetest? Drake got her for my birthday and I could not have been more surprised!”

  “You said you wanted exercise equipment.”

  “And she’s just the thing, Drake, darling. I will burn calories as I shop for all her newest accoutrements. Now, let’s eat, shall we? The ham is finally ready, and I have that smoked chubb for you, Annalee, with some bagel minis and onions and swiss cheese. Inga, let’s put Cuppy in her little bed, right over there by the fireplace, that’s a girl. Isn’t it sweet? Pink satin, just like her bow. I have a high chair, Gitta, to make it easier for you to enjoy your meal with Miss Angel-food Herself. She is about the prettiest child I have ever seen. The dimples are amazing, very Campbell’s Soup Kid. Does Inga eat smoked fish? She better, she’s Scandinavian. Simon, can you press play on the CD player? I have Lani Hall all cranked up and ready. Good Lord, we have missed you seeing you all in one room!”

  “Cheers,” Simon said, raising his glass. “To good friends and long journeys.”

  “It’s about a group of people like us.”

  “Like us? What us?”

  We were smoking grass as we walked along Zenith Point. The tide was rolling out and there was at least half a mile of exposed sea-bottom, the seagulls yanking anemones out of the ground and dropping shells to crack them open. A brisk breeze blew in off the water, making the rocky shore ours alone. Malcolm passed me the joint and stared off into the horizon. He’d brought some killer smoke from Anchorage.

  Enjoying the fullness in my lungs, I suddenly flashed on being 75 and still scoring pot, probably from some neighborhood kid in a furtive night-time deal. I answered slowly.

  “Us like…you and me and our friends. Our partners. Our adventures. I think other people would want to read about it. We’re interesting, aren’t we?”

  “Interesting, sure, but read-able? Maybe. Women’d read it.” Malcolm smiled. “White women.”

  “I don’t care who reads it long as someone buys it. I want to get published and bought.”

  “Why? What’s your motive?”

  Simon had said take the leap off the cliff. Staying in the little house made it possible for me to stop working. Simon had said What the fuck, if not now, then when? We can live on what I make. Say yes. He’d made me promise.

  “My motive? I want to make money in my pajamas.”

&nb
sp; Malcolm choked with laughter, the smoke bursting out of his lungs. He pounded his chest as he recovered from the laughing, coughing fit.

  “I know, I know,” I smiled, watching him wipe tears from his eyes as the laughter subsided. “I know what image came to your mind. You follow your dick through life. I’m too fucking old to turn tricks. I want money to come right to my mailbox. Words can do that. I’m gonna give it a try.”

  “With people like us?”

  I took the elbow of his Navy pea coat as we crunched out to the tidepools.

  “Yes. About good friends. With people like us. I love you, motherfucker. Without you I never would have met my husband.”

  “Without you…lessee….I never would have gotten to watch you transform from a mullet-headed hippie to a long-neck swan. And I got to fuck a dyke. Wouldna had that without you.”

  There was a long pause as we walked along the slippery rocks. I knew he was gonna ask so I waited. He was a hetero man, he couldn’t help it.

  “He as good as me?”

  I laughed. Malcolm himself had taught me there was only one right answer here.

  “Almost, babe.”

  “Alright, just checkin.’ You happy for real?”

  “You shittin’ me? I’m solid, Malcolm. Seriously, thanks to you. That man is my perfect match. Good thing you weren’t available.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Fuck you, too, man.”

  Malcolm pulled me under his arm, side-hugging me as we walked along.