Square One Read online

  “Hungry?” I asked.

  “Maybe later.” He leaned against the counter. “Let’s get something straight. You don’t need to be the domestic one. I’m housebroken and I can cook.”

  “I love a man who cooks.”

  “Me, too.”

  He pecked my cheek, then got out glasses and we took our lemonade to the patio. I remained quiet, enjoying the fact of us. Reece came to mind only because I now saw he was a noisy creature, always on, always wanting attention. Glenn required pretty much nothing. When I caught him looking at me over the rim of his glass, I felt my face color with embarrassment, never mind he had no idea my thoughts.

  “This is good,” he said.

  “The lemonade?”

  “That, too.”

  We passed another quiet interval in which I tried not to think. Embrace the moment, I counseled myself. I watched a squirrel run the fence, heard crows cawing nearby. I noted the ivy could use a trim. When I glanced at Glenn, his eyes were closed, and I saw he possessed a calm I found remarkable. He was content to simply be still. How good to share that with him.

  Later, we made a big salad together, discovering we both liked cheddar cheese. “I’m pretty basic,” he told me. “Bowl of lettuce suits me fine.”

  I had sourdough bread, so that was dinner, and we ate on the patio, salad, bread, and lemonade. I couldn’t have been happier.

  As dark came on, I suggested we move his things tomorrow.

  He took so long to reply, I was afraid I’d done wrong.

  “Guess so,” he said. That was it.

  As it was a warm night, we opened all the windows and slept without covers. Drifting toward sleep, I asked Glenn to do me a favor. “If you wake first, don’t get up and make breakfast alone. I want to wake up with you.”

  “You got it.”

  * * * *

  He did wake me next morning—with sex. His hard cock behind me pulled from a dream as I lay spooned against him.

  “Good morning,” I said.

  He issued a low murmur as he pushed into me, and we lay for some time sharing a languid, near-fluid coupling. Never had the rise been so distant, yet so sure. I’ve no idea how long we went, but it seemed like hours before he grew urgent, flipped me onto my stomach, and drew my ass high, all without disconnecting. He rumbled a low growl with each thrust while I got a hand on my dick. As he picked up speed, I cried out and came into the sheets just as he unloaded. Once done, we fell back to sleep.

  * * * *

  Next time, I was the one to wake. Glenn lay sprawled on his back. I sat up to enjoy the sight, then kissed him. “I’m going to fix breakfast, okay?”

  He mumbled what may have been an “okay,” so I cleaned up, dressed, and put on the coffee.

  He was quiet at breakfast, pushing bits of egg around his plate, examining a bacon strip. When the food was gone, he had a second cup of coffee, and when that was gone, he said, “You know I’m stalling.”

  “We don’t have to do it today.”

  “Yes, we do. I want out of there.”

  A short time later, he stepped lively when we ventured up the hill, and I saw he hadn’t locked his house. “Nothing worth stealing,” he said in answer to an unasked question.

  He began to open windows, trying to make the place more tolerable, and a breeze did come through. I followed him to a bedroom, where he started throwing clothes into cardboard boxes.

  “No suitcases?” I asked.

  “Nope. Why ruin them? I brought everything down from Seattle in boxes, so it goes out the same way.”

  I helped him box the clothing while he saw to toiletries and other small bits.

  Finally he said, “Well, that’s it.”

  “What about your stuff?”

  “It’s in Seattle. I brought the least amount possible.”

  I found this terribly sad, but said nothing. Instead, I asked if he wanted to bring any of his parents’ things. “Books and such.”

  He went into the living room, where he pulled two books from a full shelf. “Portnoy’s Complaint, first edition,” he said, holding it up. In his other hand he showed me Updike’s Rabbit Run. “Also a first edition. My mother had great literary taste. Most of the books are first editions, which means they should have value, but don’t because of the smell.”

  “Can’t you air them out?”

  He shook his head as he put the books back in their places. “I tried. I put three books outside when I got here two years ago. They still reek. I tried spraying them with Lysol and all kinds of fresheners, but nope, no good. They’re landfill now, I doubt even fit for recycling.”

  “That is so sad.”

  “Isn’t it.”

  “Jewelry? Silver?”

  “Costume pieces, flatware. Like I said, nothing of value. I’ll have one of those junk outfits come in and take it all.”

  I saw an obviously old photo album atop a bureau. “What about this?” I picked it up. “Maybe you could have the pictures copied. Make fresh ones.”

  “No.”

  When I held onto the album, he passed me a hard look, so I put it back atop the bureau. Maybe I could rescue it later, certain he’d one day regret discarding it.

  We took three boxes of his things to my house, where I immediately got the washer going.

  “I’m going for a walk,” he said with a pat on my shoulder.

  It was too bad everything in that house couldn’t go through the washer because detergent and hot water worked wonders. I was into a second load of wash when I got an idea. I hurried up the hill, fetched the photo album, and brought it home, then allowed myself the look Glenn wouldn’t. Family pictures, of course, his parents’ wedding photo, baby pictures. I saw him grow on the pages: little boy on a tricycle, in a cowboy outfit when a few years older, then the unsmiling teen. His graduation pictures were the last: the studio portrait done for all grads, then snapshots of the gowned Glenn between his parents. This was the Glenn I remembered most, grown up and looking to flee. In among pictures of him were a few of his parents: father watering the garden, mother quilting, and another of her seated, smiling weakly as if she knew her fate.

  Closing the book, I faced the dilemma of where to stash it. I finally settled on an upper garage shelf behind paint cans, where it could remain undiscovered until the day came when Glenn’s anger at his parents had gone.

  * * * *

  When he returned later, the laundry was done and folded. I’d left it on the bed, then busied myself emptying half the closet and dresser. I wanted him to put away as he liked. I was out back watering shrubs when he found me.

  “It’s so overgrown,” I said. “Work ahead.”

  He nodded, fetched pruning shears, and set to work. When I finished watering, I started weeding. We filled an entire barrel with clippings, one section of the garden now presentable.

  Reece came to mind as I weeded, but not as the intruder this time. I was now able to summon him simply to note his contrast with Glenn and enjoy the absence of any pangs of rejection. Reece hadn’t a clue about the joy of sharing simple labor. With all he had, he’d missed so much. As had I.

  “Want to go out for dinner?” I asked as Glenn and I washed up. “There’s a great burger place in Moraga.”

  “Sure.”

  We’d bypassed lunch, so had an early dinner in a booth at Nation’s. Juice ran from burger to chin and I began to laugh at the impossibility of containing the stuff. The very thing that made the burger so good created a containment situation.

  Glenn at last seemed relaxed, which I thought as much the people around us as my burger antics. He was rediscovering the outer world and appeared to like what he saw. I said nothing, content in the low hubbub.

  He set down his burger partway through, mopped his chin, drank some Coke, then announced he was going to buy a truck.

  “Whoa, where’d that come from?” I asked.

  “I’ve been thinking about it. I’m sick of cars and it’ll be handy when we start buying new plants for
the garden.”

  “True.”

  It was more than that, of course. I saw a conscious shift beginning, a possible pulling further away from his northern life. “Money’s just sitting in the bank,” he added.

  “What? Your inheritance?”

  “Life insurance. I opened a local account when I got the check. Quarter mil.”

  “Wow.”

  “I know. It’s weird to suddenly have that much, and there’s more to come once everything is switched over to me. About time I spend some.”

  “So tomorrow we go truck shopping?”

  “We do.”

  * * * *

  I knew nothing about trucks, but he did, and the next day he didn’t shop for long. No going from dealer to dealer, no belaboring minute details. At the Chevy dealership, he marched up to a salesman, said what he wanted.

  The man, taken aback, quickly recovered. “Fine, fine. Come inside and we’ll discuss financing.”

  “No need. I’ll pay cash.”

  The salesman paused to savor this unexpected turn, beaming like a little kid. “Wonderful.”

  The truck was a mid-sized silver model that Glenn drove home. Once I’d parked my car, he insisted I join him for a drive. I hopped in, not caring where we were headed. I just enjoyed him happy with something new, something of his own. I liked that his parents were essentially paying for it. It seemed fair after what he’d endured in that house.

  * * * *

  Garden work became our purpose and trips to the nursery were in the truck. We’d finished much of the yard when Glenn suggested a pergola for a back corner.

  “Pergola?”

  He nodded. “I’ll build it for you.”

  “You know how to build?”

  “Sure do. Summers in college I worked construction. I like to build. Have to get some tools, though. There’s not much in your garage.”

  “No. My dad didn’t build and I sure never did.”

  I accompanied him to the hardware store and enjoyed watching as he filled a cart with all manner of implements: saws, hammer, tape measure, boxes of nails, bag of concrete mix, shovel. He also spent time in the lumber aisle, and soon the truck carried lumber of various sizes.

  Next day, he set about digging a foundation.

  I played helper, mostly standing around and handing him things. As he worked, he explained the process just as he’d done years ago, and it hit me that being back to square one wasn’t a bad thing.

  I knew us fortunate to not have to seek employment just yet, and Glenn maybe never. He needed time and I wanted time—with him. Our shared life became easy, relaxed, as well as sexually heated.

  What I liked best was Glenn after a long building session, dirty and sweaty. He’d strip on the patio and we’d get sweatier. I often spent many an hour attempting to read while he worked, repeatedly losing my place as I anticipated his finishing and freeing himself to play.

  I never asked him about his house. He went up every couple days to get his mail, but other than that, it didn’t exist. Much as I wanted to know his plans for the place, I never asked, figuring he’d get to it once he was ready.

  And finally, he was.

  * * * *

  Over the next few weeks, Glenn had a junk outfit haul away everything inside the house, and another to take the car. He then hired a Realtor who arranged for professional cleaning, which, as anticipated, didn’t erase the smell. He hired contractors to replace drywall, ceilings, and floors, then Glenn replaced appliances, had kitchen counters and even doors replaced, all of it an investment toward an increased sales price.

  Glenn handled all this better than I’d have expected, I suppose because it was a sort of closure. He spent time at the house, especially when contractors were working, and it was during one of these absences that Reece called. He’d never taken up texting, dismissing it as impersonal, but I knew it was more a confidence in the power of his voice.

  I considered not picking up. I had a new life, I needed nothing of the former, especially not him, but curiosity got the better of me and I answered.

  “Noah,” he said. “How are you?”

  I knew as soon as he spoke that Tracy had left him. His voice sounded thin, the old booming quality gone. “I’m good. And you?”

  He broke down. “Oh, Noah, I’m so lost. Tracy left me. He ran off with Will Chandler, of all people. They’re in Mexico. He left me a note. Can you believe it? A note.”

  “I’m sorry for you, Reece. That’s terrible of him.”

  “And Noah, I see now how wrong I was to get involved with him, how awful I was to you. Can you forgive me? Can you?”

  “Of course, I can, Reece. We’ve all been taken over at times.”

  “That’s so good to hear. You’ve no idea how I’ve wanted to call you, but I’ve been absolutely paralyzed with fear that you’d not take the call.”

  “No need to fear me, Reece.”

  “You’re wonderful. So, now that we have that out of the way, will you come back? I promise to never stray again. I’ve learned the hardest lesson ever and I miss you terribly. Truth be told, Tracy wasn’t much of a companion, the little shit. It’s you I love, Noah. Truly love.”

  Seated on the sofa, I stretched out because we had arrived at the savory part of the exchange. “I won’t be coming back.”

  A few seconds passed before he offered a weak, “No?”

  “No. I’m happy where I am and plan to stay.”

  “But we’re so good together and you know how much I can give you. Whatever you want.”

  “I do know but life is more than things, Reece. I’m enjoying more the basics up here.”

  “Is there someone else?” he asked, an edge in his voice.

  “I am seeing someone, yes.”

  “Can’t I tempt you at all?”

  “Afraid not. I wish you all the best.” I ended the call because I wanted him as adrift as I’d once been.

  I wandered outside to sit on the patio and drink a Coke while looking at Glenn’s pergola. In two short weeks, he’d laid a foundation, poured a concrete floor, built open walls, and was now nailing on the roof. He’d latticed the lower half of the sides while the upper part had upright beams every few feet. The roof had a slight peak, adding character to the little dwelling. I thought of how we’d buy another patio set for it, then reconsidered. Maybe a bed.

  Reece’s protestations of love lingered, and while I thought his situation the ultimate karma, he’d done one thing Glenn hadn’t. He’d spoken of love. If actions spoke, I knew I was greatly loved by Glenn, and I must be happy with that, even though I longed for it said out loud. But no, I told myself. Let it come naturally, if it comes at all. Glenn was proving to be an ideal partner, ardent, caring, thoughtful, fun. I couldn’t ask for more, and shouldn’t.

  * * * *

  As summer faded, Glenn’s house was put on the market. He took me up to see it, I think mostly so I could walk through it as a normal house, fresh and clean. It had been fully staged and looked stunning. New shrubs and native plants filled the garden, every trace of redwood debris had been swept away, and the house bore a new front door of rich walnut.

  Inside, I hardly recognized the place. Sunny and bright, it was painted a soft sand color with neutral furnishings throughout. The kitchen was a marvel of quartz countertops, stainless steel appliances, and high-end cabinetry. The wall between dining room and kitchen had also been removed to provide the open concept demanded by today’s buyers. The back patio had been newly furnished, and even the hillside had been redone. Terraced by a series of low stone walls, it bore more native plants set in rich redwood bark.

  “It’s amazing,” I told Glenn. “Like new.”

  He beamed with pride, then took me back inside and handed me one of the home’s brochures, pointing at the asking price. A million eight. I was floored. “Really?” I asked.

  The Realtor had crept up beside me and she jumped in with an, “Oh yes, and it’ll probably go for more. This area is very desirable.”<
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  I gave Glenn’s hand a squeeze. He chuckled as if he, too, couldn’t believe his good fortune. The house sold in less than a week. Two million.

  * * * *

  The night after we learned the sale had gone through, Glenn insisted on taking me out to dinner. He’d obviously scouted a new spot, and soon we were in a Walnut Creek upscale restaurant called Georgie’s, eating halibut. I hadn’t known until then that we shared a love of fish.

  Raising his wineglass, Glenn proposed a toast. “To prosperity. Rolling in it.”

  “To prosperity,” I repeated, clinking my glass to his. “And to us.”

  He nodded, clinked again, and we drank while looking at each other over the rims. When we got home, we couldn’t get to each other fast enough.

  Glenn and I had always meshed well, but he truly seemed free now, selling the house the last bit of his old life. He could fully embark on the future, and as I looked at him above me, eyes bright with pleasure, I knew we were there. This was it. This was love. He was my future.

  * * * *

  Glenn’s next step was having his things shipped down from Seattle. He contacted friends who got estimates, and he sent them funds to accomplish packing and shipping. Soon, boxes began arriving. We made my old bedroom into a study, putting up shelves to house our books, adding a desk, sofa, chairs, artwork. There were clothes, tools, papers, but, I noted, nothing from his former life in Arroyo.

  Reece called again. This time I just happened to have come in from working outdoors. Don’t pick up, I told myself, but I did.

  “Noah, dear Noah,” he gushed. “How are you? I miss you so much.”

  “I’m fine, Reece. How are you?”

  He blew out a sigh. “Oh, you know. Intermittent work, mostly commercials, and parties, none of it mattering much. The house is so empty without you. Remember how you’d fix me breakfast while I read the Times? I loved that, only I didn’t know how much. And the sound of your little car coming up the driveway. A hundred little things, no, a thousand.”

  “Those were good times. I liked our life together.”

  “Then come back and let’s start up again.”

  I let this stand on its own for a few seconds, not because I wanted him to think I was considering the offer, but because when I replied I wanted it to sound final. “No, Reece. As I told you before, I’m staying here. And I’m living with someone now. I’m in a relationship and quite happy.”