A Still, Small Voice

by D. W. Marchwell

  He was so lost in his fantasies of the handsome club owner that he wouldn’t realize until morning that he’d barely given any thought at all to Paul for almost a full twenty-four hours. And that revelation would make Noah smile.

  Chapter Eight

  NOAH took back his credit card, stuffed it in his wallet, took the small plastic bag, and offered the helpful young woman a smile. He’d awoken sometime just before seven this morning, his thoughts having gone immediately to the plans he’d made last night, just before falling asleep. He exited the small photography shop on 110th and steered himself back to his loft, the only thing preventing him from enjoying the rush of those feelings that came with meeting someone new being the call he would have to make when he finally got there.

  Noah’s experiences with lawyers were six years old, but they were still fresh enough to give him that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought of sitting in some austere, sterile office. He still had very clear recollections of sitting in his lawyer’s office wondering about all of the other people for whom such an office had represented an ending of sorts. How many of those people had been able to put all of it behind them and start anew? And for how many of the others had such an office represented the end of everything they’d once dreamed? Even though meeting with the lawyer had been nothing more than a formality to ensure that all the necessary papers were signed and that Noah would have official copies of all the documents that exonerated him of any and all charges, he’d felt the overwhelming oppression of the spacious room.

  Turning the corner, he saw his building, his excitement returning a little bit more when he imagined bringing Oscar here for the first time. He wondered where Oscar lived, whether he’d moved after Marcus had passed away so unexpectedly, whether Oscar was fond of traditional and overstuffed or minimalist and sleek. Since their conversation about photography the previous night, Noah’s mind had conjured images of the tall brick walls of his loft eventually being covered with framed stills that he and Oscar would select from their day-long trips driving around the province. And maybe even the country.

  Noah chastised himself playfully for getting too far ahead, but he couldn’t help it. For some reason, he found that he couldn’t stop thinking about Oscar, about being with Oscar. He’d had more than enough experience with psychology to know that he could just be latching onto the shy and gentle man as a way of coping with the reappearance of Paul. Maybe he was, he admitted to himself as he unlocked the front door to the building and headed up the concrete stairs to his door.

  “Noah?” He turned to see Paul locking the door to his own loft. “Did you get the call from Duncan?”

  “Yes, I did. I was just going to call him back right now.”

  “Oh, okay, good… good.”

  Noah noticed that Paul didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. Noah smiled, nodded, and then turned to go back to his loft.

  “Thank you.” Paul’s voice stopped Noah, and before he could turn back, Noah realized how loud and overbearing that voice seemed to him now. After only a brief conversation with Oscar, Noah had found himself looking forward to hearing more of his unobtrusive and lyrical baritone.

  Noah nodded again and turned back to his own door, unable to explain the sudden sadness that had invaded his mind. The psychology of the situation was fairly clear, and he recognized that he was probably seeing how sad and dejected Paul had become. Noah had once found him to be charismatic and impossible to forget. But now, because of Oscar, Noah could see that Paul had only ever been just a man. A beautiful, confused man. No different than every other man, Noah supposed as he locked the door behind him and dropped his wallet and keys on the foyer table.

  With the cell phone sitting on the counter beside him, Noah opened up the small, shiny bag that contained the tripods he’d purchased. He wasn’t really sure whether Oscar would like the yellow or the blue, but something told him he would probably prefer the more subdued color. That decision having been made, and with nothing else on his mind he could use to postpone his involvement in the drama between Paul and Cherie, Noah put the yellow tripod aside and picked up his cell phone to call the lawyer.

  NOAH leaned against the counter, his fingers tapping nervously against the plastic tumbler he held in his hands. Oscar had called only five minutes before to explain that he was on his way. Noah had no idea where his new friend lived and therefore had no way of knowing how much longer he would have to wait, his nerves a complete jumble. He put the tumbler down on the counter and went back—again—to check his backpack and to confirm that he had all of his camera supplies. But most importantly, he kept opening the shiny plastic bag that housed the tripod. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but maybe it was completely inappropriate. Noah took it out of the backpack for the fifth time, still unable to choose between taking a chance and playing it safe.

  After pushing the bag gently back into his backpack, Noah took a deep breath and pushed the button on his cell phone. He’d pressed that one button at least twenty times in the last five minutes, so convinced that he just hadn’t heard the ringtone. Zipping up the backpack, then pocketing his cell phone, Noah headed to the door, grabbed his keys, and set out to wait for Oscar outside. The sun was shining, the temperature was reminiscent of early summer, and there was no rain forecast for at least the next week.

  He parked himself on the concrete retaining wall, inhaling the fragrance of the evergreen trees behind him, and was wringing his hands nervously when he noticed a tan SUV pull up on the opposite side of the street. He peered through the driver-side window and saw Oscar’s smiling face looking back at him. Noah grabbed his backpack and stood, suddenly realizing he wasn’t feeling as nervous, the mere thought of knowing he would be spending the next few hours with Oscar having an unexpected calming effect. He watched carefully while Oscar exited the vehicle and waited for the traffic to thin.

  Noah noticed almost immediately that Oscar wore a faded pair of jeans with sensible hiking boots. His ashen hair was pushed off of his face, catching the sun’s rays and making Oscar appear younger, sexier. He extended a hand as he approached Noah.

  Noah took hold of the hand, feeling the warmth immediately. “Any trouble finding the place?”

  “None,” Oscar said as he shrugged his own backpack farther onto his shoulder. “Shall we?”

  “Let’s,” Noah said as he secured his own backpack.

  They began to walk the half-mile or so to the bridge and toward the diner, neither of them saying too much. But Noah still found the silence comfortable, not feeling the need to entertain or fill the lulls with aimless chatter and small talk. They were each concentrating on navigating the sidewalk with its potholes and narrowed sections due to overhanging trees, Oscar commenting that he’d never spent much time in this part of town.

  “How long have you lived in the area?” Oscar asked when they’d come to a stop at the first intersection. It was only controlled by a stop sign, so they were both darting their eyes up and down the street, checking for an available opportunity to cross.

  “I used to live up on 111th Avenue but then bought the loft about six years ago.”

  “You like it in this part of town?” Oscar swiveled his head quickly and then took hold of Noah’s elbow, exerting a slight pressure as he steered them across the street.

  Noah found the gesture very sweet, noticing that Oscar kept his hand there for the entire time it took them to cross the intersection. He wondered if Oscar knew he’d done it or if it was just reflex. “It’s not as populated with some of the conveniences, like supermarkets and such, but it’s a really great space, and the neighbors are really great.” And now that he was walking with Oscar, who looked incredible in his faded jeans and sensible hiking boots, he was even feeling magnanimous enough to include Paul as one of those neighbors.

  “After Marcus passed, I thought about moving back downtown, but….”

  Noah looked over and resisted the urge to stop Oscar and hug him. “I’m sorr
y, Oscar,” Noah offered and waited to see if the shy man would look at him. He didn’t. “I can’t imagine what a shock that must have been for you.”

  “It was that,” Oscar said, nodding his head and finally looking up from the sidewalk. “If it hadn’t been for the club and our circle of friends, I’m not sure how I would have survived.”

  Noah didn’t really have any other words to offer Oscar, so he only nodded and kept walking. He tried to imagine what it would have been like to have been with the same man for fifteen years only to have a doctor come out, after what was supposed to have been a routine knee surgery, and announce that you would never get to see your husband again, never look into his eyes or hold his hand. It must be absolute agony, that moment when you realize you’ll never share another sunrise, another Christmas, another moment. Never feel his touch while he tells you he loves you.

  “I’m sorry,” Oscar said after a moment. “It’s been almost a year since…. Promised myself I wouldn’t mention him.”

  Noah stopped suddenly. “Oscar?” He stood where he was and waited for Oscar to look at him. “I’d like to hear about him. Truly, I would. I don’t want you to think you have to…. I’d like to hear about him.” Noah’s hand came up to scrub at his forehead. “We knew each other, of course, but I never took the time to really get to know him.” Noah wasn’t really sure what he was trying to say. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I know you loved him very much, and I don’t want you to think I mind talking about him.”

  Oscar took a few steps closer, until Noah could feel his own hand pressed lightly to Oscar’s thigh. Noah stayed rooted to the spot as Oscar leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Noah. You’re a very good man.”

  Noah felt the cool wind against his forehead and shoulders and realized he must be sweating. “You’re welcome,” he said as reached out and squeezed Oscar’s impressive bicep. “So living in the ’burbs was Marcus’s idea, then?”

  “No, we both agreed that it was time to find a place away from all the late nights of the club. Someplace where we could have a lot more space and some peace from all the noise of downtown.”

  “That doesn’t bother me at all,” Noah confessed. “I’m a very heavy sleeper. Once my head hits the pillow, tornadoes wouldn’t wake me up.” It was usually true, so Noah decided not to include those very difficult months when he’d lost so much sleep because of Paul and then again because of the unfounded allegations of sexual misconduct.

  “Oh, I am too. It was actually Marcus who was a very light sleeper.”

  They arrived at another intersection, and Noah felt Oscar standing much closer to him this time, and when it came time to cross, Noah felt a twang of disappointment when Oscar didn’t take his elbow. But that feeling was quickly replaced by a twinge of arousal when the shy man reached out his hand and settled it against the small of Noah’s back.

  It took them only twenty minutes to walk to the bridge. They stopped, each of them searching for his own camera, and looked out over the river. The trees were becoming greener every day, and the sounds of rushing water and birds mixed with the traffic, creating a symphony of sounds that always seemed to remind Noah that the world was so much bigger than just his own collection of problems.

  “Look,” Oscar said, his hand finding Noah’s forearm. “Over there. Do you see that swarm of merlins?”

  “Huh?” Noah fixed the strap of his camera around his neck and looked over at Oscar.

  “The merlins,” Oscar repeated, pointing to the west, Noah assumed at the bank of the river. “The pigeon hawks?”

  “Oh,” Noah said, too embarrassed to admit he still had no idea what either of those names meant he should be looking for, other than a bird.

  “You still don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?” Oscar was leaning against the railing of the pedestrian path and looking at Noah.

  “Of course I don’t,” Noah said and shrugged. “I’m afraid I’m not very knowledgeable about birding.”

  Oscar let go of a melodious laugh that sent shivers up and down Noah’s spine. He found himself smiling even though he was the unintentional butt of this particular joke. After a moment, Oscar stood slightly behind him and pointed ahead of them, his arm right next to Noah’s ear. “See right over there, where the river bank juts out a little?”

  Noah nodded, hearing Oscar’s hushed tones and feeling the vibrations against the back of his neck. He felt Oscar move closer, his chest lightly touching Noah’s back. He brought up his camera, ready to take a few pictures—of anything, really—that would be a reminder of this moment, and then Oscar placed his other hand at the waistband of Noah’s jeans, holding him steady.

  “I think I saw one with prey,” Oscar said, and Noah closed his eyes instinctively as the vibrations rippled through him once again. “Falco columbarius richardsoni,” Oscar explained as he pulled away from Noah. “The pale blue ones are males, and the females are more of a pale brown color.”

  Noah finally found the group of birds and began to shoot several pictures. “Aren’t those falcons?” Noah took several more pictures in rapid succession and looked over when he heard Oscar chuckling to himself. “Sorry,” he said, feeling the heat of embarrassment yet again. “I’ll just keep my mouth shut.”

  “No, no,” Oscar protested. “Don’t do that. Yes, they are falcons. They’re a species of falcons. This particular species is native to the prairies… Canada and the States.”

  Noah nodded and put his camera back in its case, noticing that Oscar had already stowed his own. “How do you know so much about birds?”

  “My grandfather was a nature lover.” Oscar looked at his watch. “Shall we?”

  Noah looked at his own watch and wondered where the last twenty minutes had gone. Securing his case in his backpack, Noah slung the backpack over his shoulder, and the two men resumed their walk to the diner. “Is that where you get your appreciation for nature studies?”

  “Affirmative,” Oscar said as he nudged Noah’s shoulder with his own. “I’m sorry if I made you feel embarrassed.”

  Noah waved a dismissive hand and offered a sincere smile. “Eh, don’t worry about it. We all have our special gifts, right?”

  “Well, you’re very generous. And I promise the next time I make you feel like that, you should feel free to remind me that I can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”

  Noah laughed at that, finding it hard to believe this man would be lacking in anything at all.

  “I loved what you did with the Cole Porter song last night. It gave me goose bumps.”

  “Thank you, Oscar.” Noah felt uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Is there a story behind your name? I mean, it’s not a very common name these days.”

  “It was my grandfather’s name.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay,” Oscar said and reached out, his hand landing on Noah’s bicep. “I’ve heard all sorts of jokes. Heard them all, probably. But I don’t mind, ’cause it’s my grandfather’s name and he was my hero.”

  They stopped at another intersection, their last, and Noah looked at Oscar. He resisted the urge to reach out and caress those ash-blond strands. “Good for you, then.” When it came time to cross, Oscar’s hand found its way to the small of Noah’s back again. “What was he like?”

  “My grandfather?” Oscar took a deep breath and let it go before speaking again. “I don’t think there are enough hours in a week to tell you all the stories.”

  “Okay, how about your favorite? Or your top five favorites, if you can’t pick just one.”

  “I must say that I find this a rather odd first-date topic,” Oscar said as they reached the diner, and pulled the door open, letting Noah enter first.

  Noah looked around and found an empty table near the back. He didn’t see a hostess anywhere, so he made his way over and stood, his hands spread out in front of him. “Do you have a preference as to seating?”

  Oscar shook his head and took the seat opposite Noah
, both men depositing their backpacks in the empty chairs beside them.

  “I was hoping you knew that,” Noah said after the waitress came by to provide the menus and fill their water glasses.

  “What? That this is a first date?” Noah noticed the blush on Oscar’s cheeks. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at this, but even I’m not that oblivious.”

  Noah laughed and moved his foot forward so that his lower leg made contact with Oscar’s. “I would have to disagree, Oscar. I think you’re very good at this.” Noah wanted to tell him how wonderful it had made him feel to have Oscar’s hand on his elbow or at the small of his back. He wanted to tell him how alive it had made him feel when Oscar had stood so close behind him on the bridge. But then, Noah had already figured out that Oscar hadn’t been “doing” anything other than being himself. And for Noah, that piece of insight into this wonderful, shy man opposite made Oscar even more desirable.

  Chapter Nine

  THE bright blue, cloudless sky of the afternoon had been replaced as they ate and talked inside the diner. When they finally exited after almost three hours, they looked up into the deep indigo that surrounded them, the tiny pinpoints of light suspended in the sky adding to the romantic atmosphere the two men had been building slowly since they’d met outside of Noah’s building. Neither seemed in any rush to get home, their pace as they retraced their route slow and relaxed.

  They stopped again at the bridge and waited for the waterfall to appear. The waitress at the diner, who had thought the duo to be tourists, had informed them of times and other fun factoids of what to expect from the spectacle, which she told them was nothing more than city tap water being forced through the holes of a specially designed setup of pipes at sidewalk level. Of course, Noah knew all of this, but the waitress seemed to enjoy playing tour guide, so he’d convinced Oscar to play along. “I won’t exactly be playing along,” Oscar had said, laughing, his cheeks going pink, “since I didn’t know any of this.”