“How old do you think that tree was?” Tim gazed down at the stump in his backyard.
“I don’t know… a hundred years or so.”
“So it was just a baby, by redwood standards. They live for thousands of years in Northern California, don’t they?”
“It was sick, man. It wasn’t gonna get any better.”
“I know. I wasn’t complaining. All I’m saying is now I have a bench instead. It’s carved from one solid piece of wood and even though the tree died, the bench will last forever, won’t it?”
“I’m not sure if I know what forever even means, Snowman, but it’ll last a lot longer than either of us will, that’s for sure.”
“You said surprises… plural?”
“Yeah… at that same place where the guy does the wood sculptures, the first time I stopped by, they had this little dog and she was so sweet, but she was very pregnant. Come on inside and I’ll show you. You said you wanted a dog, right?” Nick slid open the door from the deck onto the kitchen and gave a whistle. “Here boy…”
A furry brown streak tore around the corner, skidded across the kitchen floor and lunged into Tim’s arms. “Hey there, Buckaroo! It’s so cute. It is a he, isn’t it? What kind of dog is he?”
“It’s a he, but we’re not exactly sure. The mother is a Jack Russell terrier, but he’s a half-breed.”
“Oh, good… a Cher fan from birth.”
“She got loose when she was in heat and they figure from the coloring that the father might be the Doberman up the road.”
“He’s adorable!” Tim was on his hands and knees, playing tug of war with an old sock the puppy had found somewhere. “But a Jack Russell is so little and a Doberman is…”
“Pretty big,” Nick finished his sentence for him.
Tim looked up over his shoulder at Nick with a grin. “Ooh, I know just how that poor bitch must have felt.”
Nick laughed and stepped closer to straddle Tim’s head in his crotch. “You weren’t exactly shortchanged in the endowment department yourself, Snowman. I’ll bet nobody’s ever called you ‘Tiny Tim.’”
“Not that I can remember.”
“What do you want to name him?”
“I don’t know… what do you think, Buckaroo?” The puppy wagged its tail and jumped up into Nick’s arms as he crouched down to join them on the floor. “How about Buck? That’s a butch name for you, little guy, but you might grow into it.”
“I don’t think he’ll get as big as a Doberman,” Nick said. “His paws aren’t very big, but he’ll grow some.”
“He’s beautiful. Thanks… for everything.”
“Well, he’s not just yours, you know. I figured we could raise him together. He’s a country dog at heart, so he should probably get used to the city in small doses. I figure he’ll get the best of both worlds that way. So… how does it feel to be a parent, Snowman?”
“Great. Any more surprises for me?”
“Only that I scheduled your new skylight for this week. They’re coming on Wednesday to put it in, so I thought you might want to spend a few days with me up north while your kitchen is torn up again.”
“We sure did this remodeling job backward, didn’t we? We should have started with the skylight and then done the deck and left the kitchen floor for last.”
“Don’t worry. I already hired a cleaning service to come in on Thursday. So, how about it? Do you and Buck want to spend a few days at the river this week? I have to drive back first thing tomorrow morning.”
“You bet.” Tim couldn’t stop smiling. “I have some things I promised to do for Aunt Ruth tomorrow, but I could drive up tomorrow night.”
“That’ll work out great, Snowman—” Nick tried to speak but he had a face full of puppy kisses.
Tuesday morning Tim went by his Aunt Ruth’s apartment on Collingwood Street. He’d promised to water the plants on the deck and bring in the mail. Tim thought it was about time she changed her address at the post office and moved the plants to Sam’s place if she wasn’t going to live here anymore. He set the mail on her desk in the living room window and noticed something missing from his last visit. His mother’s old suitcase was gone. It was just as well.
Then it crossed his mind that maybe Aunt Ruth was testing him. If he remembered the plants and the mail, maybe he was responsible enough to take care of the cat next time she left town. Then he remembered that Bartholomew was moving to Hillsborough too. Now that Frank and Delia were gone, Sam would probably line up another couple to cook and do the gardening and keep an eye on the place and feed Bart when Sam and Aunt Ruth went away.
Tim made a dozen trips from the kitchen sink with the watering can. Then he sat down among the smells of jasmine and damp earth in the little garden off the kitchen, his old kitchen and now his Aunt Ruth’s former kitchen. Even though Ruth and Sam didn’t get legally married, they might as well have. She’d spent most of her time in Hillsborough all summer. Sam had paid Arturo and Artie a year’s rent in advance on this place, but even so, things had changed and Tim hated it. As much as Tim knew that change could be good, he always had a hard time adjusting.
Tim had fond memories of his own here on Collingwood Street. This was his first apartment in San Francisco. His dreams only came at night in those days. He worried lately that they were turning into frightening visions during his waking life. He hated to admit it and he tried not to think about it, but his clairvoyance was growing stronger every year. These days, it seemed to happen at any old time.
And now he was sitting here being angry at himself for feeling melancholy… and over what? His Aunt Ruth’s happiness? His old apartment? A cat? He’d rather have a dog, anyway. And now he and Nick had one, not a prissy little gay thing that cost a fortune, but a good old butch country dog. He never really wanted a cat. Cats were too damned independent.
Tim stopped at Arts on his way back to Hancock Street. The restaurant would be different with Ruth gone. While Tim knew she’d be back in his life as soon as she and Sam returned from Chicago, no one was sure if she’d come back to work at Arts again. She didn’t need the money, but it had never been a matter of need. She enjoyed it, or so she always said. Maybe part of her reason for working there had always been to keep an eye on her nephew.
Artie was breaking in a new bartender named Steve. He seemed friendly and capable enough, but Tim knew the customers would ask for Ruth so often that he almost felt sorry for the new guy. Artie introduced them and asked, “How was the big wedding in Chicago?”
“It was nice, I guess… pretty fancy but not nearly as much fun as the big day here at Arts. How are Teresa and Birdie doing?”
“They’re packing for their cruise already. That was part of the prize they won.”
“How’s business?”
“Better than ever. That kind of advertising is priceless. We were even on Fox News!”
“Oh, that’s all we need, to have the restaurant taken over by right-wing conservatives. Gay republicans will flood the place. GOProud and the Log Cabin group will be fighting to make Arts their headquarters! How the hell did we get on Fox News?”
“One of their blowhards did a story on Gavin Newsom, how he’s still pushing gay marriage against the will of the people of California, especially now that he’s moved from the Mayor’s office to a bigger stage in Sacramento. They had some nice shots of the restaurant though, from what I hear, and a close-up of moi. It was just a still shot. I wasn’t singing, but everyone who saw it says I looked fabulous.”
“Are the offers flooding in for you to perform, now that they’ve heard you sing on Rosa’s live TV show?”
“Not exactly,” Artie frowned. “They never showed me doing an entire song on TV, just a few bars and then they cut away to some pre-taped video of Rosa giving instructions for ordering her damned coffee table book. I’ve got the DVD of the show right here if you want to borrow it.”
“Speaking of Rosa, has anybody heard from her?”
“Not directly,” Ar
tie said. “I read about her in the Chronicle, though. Leah Garchik says Rosa got an offer to do a new TV show in L.A. That day of the parade, one of the guys in PFLAG marching with his gay son was totally enamored with her. It turned out he’s a big TV producer. Bruno is moving down there with her. I guess mother and son have patched things up again, at least for the time being.”
“Bruno seems more the L.A. type,” Tim said. “They both do. I’m sure they’ll be happier there than in San Francisco. We’re a little too provincial for them, don’t you think?”
“Speak for yourself.” Artie was dying to talk to Tim about the charade they’d pulled off in order to get his mother to leave him alone. But Tim had insisted for so long that he didn’t want to talk about his mother. Artie didn’t dare to bring it up first. Besides, it wasn’t his place to do it. Ruth should be the one to tell him. Or maybe Nick. Sooner or later it was bound to come up and then the whole story would come out. “Do you want to borrow this video of Rosa’s wedding show here or not?”
“Maybe I should. Nick and I are going to spend a few days up at his place while they install my new skylight. We can watch it there. His cable is iffy sometimes up there. Did you hear we got a new puppy named Buck? Maybe we’ll all watch it together one of these nights, if your singing doesn’t make him howl too much.”
“You brat!” Artie stuck his tongue out at Tim. “Keep it as long as you want. I have more copies.”
Ruth and Sam flew back from O’Hare to SFO the next week. She was perfectly willing to go by way of Minneapolis if Betty needed her, or so she told Sam, while trying to convince herself that she meant it. But she called first, from their hotel in Chicago, and Tim’s father answered with a grunt.
“Hello? Is that you, Bud?”
“Yeah… whoosis?”
“Hello, Bud, it’s Ruth Taylor, calling to see how my sister is doing.”
“She’s asleep.”
Ruth was glad to hear that Betty had made it back alright and that she and Bud were still living under the same roof. Ruth never expected Bud to be warm and conversational. She was relieved that he was polysyllabic. “Well, there’s no need to wake her. I just wanted to make sure she made it back in one piece after her trip to California.”
“Yep.”
“Say, Bud… did she happen to mention Tim?”
“We don’t say that name in this house. I’ll tell her you called.”
Ruth heard the click when he hung up the phone, but she went ahead and said good-bye afterward, anyway. She wanted to put a final period on the end of that sentence, as if instead of saying “good-bye” she was saying “Amen.”
Thursday night in Monte Rio, Tim thought he might never need to have sex again… at least not that night. He would drive back to the city in the morning after three perfect days and nights at the Russian River. They were lying in Nick’s bed, exhausted and satisfied. Tim ran his fingers across Nick’s chest, looked up and asked, “Do you still want to get married?”
“What?” Nick jumped a bit while Tim outlined the features of his face with his fingertips.
“You heard me. Do you still want to get married?”
“To you?”
Tim playfully tweaked Nick’s nose. “No, to Rosie O’Donnell, you schmuck!”
“After all this time I’ve been trying to talk you into it, after all my bugging you, after Teresa and Birdie and all those handsome guys at Arts in their tuxes… now you want to get married?”
Tim rolled on to his back. “Not right this minute, but… sure I do, if you still want to.”
“You mean get ‘married’ married? Like fly to some state where it’s legal, married, or ‘domestic partner’ married, or just have a commitment ceremony and a party?”
“Fly away and get ‘married’ married, I guess…”
“What made you change your mind, Snowman?”
“All those things you just mentioned, I guess, plus the fact that you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“No.”
“Yes, you are…” Tim stroked Nick’s chest for emphasis.
“I didn’t mean that… I meant yes, I probably am the best thing that ever happened to you… if you say so… but…”
“Absolutely… so what are you saying no about?”
“No, I don’t want to get married.”
“What?”
“I’ve thought long and hard about it, but you were right. You talked me out of it a long time ago.”
Tim looked down at Buck, as if the pup could give him a different answer. “Why not?”
“I don’t think we should mess up a good thing, that’s why not. We have the perfect arrangement as it is. You can live in the city. I can live in the country. We can still see each other as much as we want.”
“It’s never as much as I want.”
“It would be, Snowman. I’m afraid you’d get tired of me if I was around all the time.”
“Never!”
“Let’s save it for when we’re old.”
“I don’t believe this!” Tim wasn’t sure if he was more shocked or disappointed.
“Let’s wait until it’s legal, anyway. Everywhere. None of this nonsense where we’re husbands in Iowa, but we set one foot over the Minnesota border and we’re divorced.”
“I don’t want to get married in Iowa and I have no plans to go back to Minnesota… not in the near future, anyway.”
As he mentioned Minnesota, Nick remembered that Tim’s mother was back there now. This might be a good time to tell him about Ruth’s elaborate scheme, but as long as Tim didn’t broach the subject, neither would he. “Hey, we can do a domestic partnership deal if you want, but we’re not exactly domestic partners since we each have a place of our own.”
“What about hospital visitation rights, Nick?”
“I hope you won’t be in the hospital again any time soon, but even that time after you wrapped my old truck around the tree at the bottom of the driveway, I didn’t have any problem visiting you … and that hospital was in Sebastopol, not in San Francisco, where you’d expect…”
“I have no memory of that time.”
“Even if we got a so-called legal marriage in one state, it wouldn’t give us any of the federal rights, like Social Security, tax benefits. I’m willing to go to a lawyer, sign medical power of attorney, redo my will and all of that. We should straighten those things out, anyway. Neither of us has any siblings or anyone younger to leave it to… besides Buck, I guess.” The dog opened one eye. “Yeah, boy, I’m talking about you, you little canine heiress… but marriage? Nah… let’s enjoy our honeymoon years first, Snowman.”
Tim had such a strange look on his face that Nick felt compelled to lean forward and kiss him. “I couldn’t love you any more than I do now, married or not, okay? Trust me.”
Tim squeezed him tighter. “I do, Nick, I do…”
“You sound like you’re talking to the preacher man already.”
“I meant that I do trust you… and I love you.”
“And I love you, Snowman. We can still love each other to death, forever and ever, but you need your freedom, Tim.”
“No I don’t, Nick, I don’t—” Tim couldn’t help laughing and Nick joined him.
“You know what? I was watching one of those shows on TV the other night where they were debating gay marriage. They had a minister from a gay church back east somewhere and this homophobic priest who was spouting the usual Catholic line. The priest was saying that gays need to choose to turn away from their sinful lifestyle. Then the gay minister insisted that homosexuality is not a choice. I’ve always believed that too, haven’t you?”
“I sure didn’t make any choice,” Tim said. “The only choice I ever had was whether to be honest with myself or try to suppress it and go crazy.”
“Exactly,” Nick held him tighter. “But that gay minister on TV kept saying, ‘Nobody chooses to be gay. Who would willingly choose to be a homosexual and subject themselves to all the hate and preju
dice and scorn of society? No one ever would,’ he said.”
“So?”
“Well, I got to thinking… it wasn’t that way for me at all. I mean… I know I’ve been luckier than a lot of guys, growing up with the parents I did and my grandparents were really cool, too…”
Tim had closed his eyes and was listening in silence, but when Nick stopped talking, Tim opened them again. “And…?”
“And I said to myself, ‘I would! That’s who!’ I’d choose to be gay. When I see all those miserable-looking housewives at the mall with their screaming kids and their husbands who look so unhappy… then I think of how good it feels to be with you like the past couple of days. Maybe that’s why people are afraid of us. We’re happy. They’re afraid to be honest enough with themselves to be this happy. If I’d known I was going to meet you, I would have chosen to be gay a hundred times over. Wouldn’t you, Snowman?”
But Tim couldn’t answer, not in words. He wished he could be as sure as Nick was about everything. Tim didn’t know what he would have chosen if he’d had a choice. Nobody had to remind Tim how different his background was from Nick’s. He’d spent all his first years in San Francisco going through men like they were dancers auditioning at an open cattle call or actors he was screen testing for the juicy leading role of his lifelong lover. Had he finally cast the role now with Nick? Would there still be time to audition another man now and then for a walk-on part while Nick remained the star?
As if Nick could read Tim’s mind, he said, “And besides, Snowman, what if Anderson Cooper decides to come all the way out of the closet and dumps his hot husband and wants a roll in the hay with me? I couldn’t lie. I’d have to tell him I was married… to you.”
“You think he’d pick you over me?” Tim gave Nick a playful slug in his hard stomach, ran his fingertips up and down the dark blond treasure trail of fur and flicked his tongue into Nick’s navel. He lifted his head long enough to say, “If Anderson can’t decide, he could take us both on at once, huh?”
“Who knows what might happen?” Nick’s long strong fingers massaged the back of Tim’s scalp through the soft brown locks of hair while Buck spun around and readjusted himself at the foot of the bed.
Wedding Season Page 22