Heart and Soul

Heart and Soul Chapter 9

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9

The Tornado

(Sixteen Months After I Met Don)

"Well, I suppose we know spring is here if thunderstorms are becoming a routine thing," I said.

Don brought us both a cup of hot tea. "And I was just looking forward to warmer weather."

"We've had quite the string of storms the past two weeks."

"I lost a branch off the fig tree in the backyard last week," Don said.

"I'm getting a sense that the storms forecasted for this evening could be pretty bad."

"Well, I have everything we need for dinner."

And Don did. He spent forty minutes making a great dinner for the two of us. There was typically beer in his fridge for me. I had one as he had a glass of wine with our entrees.

Halfway through our entrees, a crack of thunder made us jump. It was so immediate in relation to the flash of lightning that we knew it was close.

"Jesus Christ! That scared me," I muttered under my breath.

"I'm just glad I didn't have the wine in my hand."

As we finished our meal, we could hear the wind pick up. Rain started, and it quickly became heavy. Both of us stared at the kitchen window as we began to gather the used plates and silver.

"I'll take care of the dishes," Don said. "Turn on the TV to see if there is any update."

The Dodgers and Padres were playing. The television was only on for less than two minutes when printed alerts began beeping across the bottom of the screen.

"We need to find something local."

I turned to our NBC affiliate. Immediately, weather was all over the screen — maps with colored blocks of tornado warnings, radars, teams of meteorologists. This was not a good sign.

"It's on top of us. Looks to be for a little while," I called out to the kitchen.

I went to the patio door. Rain was going sideways.

"This looks bad," I said to myself.

I had seen this weather growing up in Oklahoma. I couldn't see the sky clearly because of the awning — which was being beaten like a rug. The rain wasn't aimed at Don's front door, so I opened it.

"What are you doing?!"

"Don, the sky looks bad."

"What do you mean?"

He walked to me with his hands drying on a towel.

"The clouds, the way they're churning. The color. It's all ... it's bad."

We walked back to the television. The meteorologist was warning of rotation. As soon as he said that, we heard tornado sirens go off.

"Shit," I softly said.

"Let's go to the basement," Don said. "I'll grab a flashlight and a blanket."

Don turned on the lights to his basement. He spread out a blanket on an open space and we sat down, sitting and leaning into each other. I could still get cell service, so we tried to gather what information we could from the phone.

As I glanced around, I noticed Don's basement wasn't finished like mine. That was the project that Gene and I always wanted to do. We started it a couple of months before he died. It was the project I wanted to get done when I retired. My basement looked nice. There was furniture down there, great storage, extra closets, a small freezer. Don's was what I would call "junky." But it was still the safest place in the house.

Another crack of thunder and howl of wind made us jump.

"This does not sound good," Don said.

I wrapped my arms around him. We huddled. The sirens wailed their warning again.

We heard things hit the house.

"What was that?" he said.

"Things are just blowing around. They are striking the house. No windows sound like they've broken."

"Think we would hear it if that happened upstairs?"

"I don't know, babe."

We squeezed each other tight.

More bangs, more sirens, more howling wind.

"Dear lord, how long will this go on?" he softly said.

I looked at my phone.

"The radar shows the worst of it right on top of us. We should be out of it in about ten minutes."

"If my house holds together that long."

When Don said, "my house," it made me think of mine. I looked at the radar again. My home was closer to the tail end of the line of storms. How much damage had it taken?

The basement went dark.

"OH!!" Don jumped. "We've lost power."

He fumbled for the flashlight. He turned it on.

"This is just a beam of light. Why didn't I bring down a candle?"

"It's okay. Let's put it on that box over there to shine more across the room."

We did. We couldn't see much, but we weren't sitting in darkness. A flash of light and a crack of roaring thunder sent more illumination down the stairs for a second.

Don squeezed me.

"I'm so glad you are here," he whispered.

The crash of horrendous volume made the wind sound like a train's engine right next to us. It was unnerving. Our hearts were beating faster. We just wanted the wind to stop.

A minute later, it just seemed to get quieter. The wind was calmer. The rain wasn't pounding.

"Should we go check?" he said.

"I will."

"Be careful."

I climbed the stairs to the main floor of the house. I looked out the living room window. The sun was setting behind all the storm clouds, but it wasn't dark yet. I could see the band of dark clouds had now moved on. There was some light, but it was hard to make out the true damage.

"Come on up," I yelled down. "I think our house is fine, but I'm not sure about the whole neighborhood."

Our house. It was the first time I had ever called it that. I did feel at home here, but ... it was Don's. I had my own house.

Don came up and we both put on light jackets. We stepped outside.

"It's hard to tell, but the whole street seems to be without power," Don said. "When it gets completely dark, I'm sure we'll be able to tell."

"Let's walk the direction of my house."

We walked for about five minutes. The streets were littered with debris, but we didn't see downed limbs on the roads.

"I hope everyone we know is okay," Don observed.

"Shit! We should check on them."

I quickly dialed Cooper. He didn't answer. He may have been on the phone. I called Larry.

"Are you guys okay?" I said when he answered.

"We think so. We can't find any damage to our house. How about you?"

"Don's house is without power, but no damage. I don't know about my house." I scanned the roads into the distance. "I can see lights on a couple of streets up. Perhaps he and I should go check on my house. It could have power."

"Are the streets passable?"

"So far, nothing major. Just crud blown everywhere."

"Corey talked to a high school friend. Their house was hit. Tornado."

"Oh, man."

"Cooper's checking on Mitch and some people at work. My store's staff seems okay."

"Okay. Glad you guys are fine."

"Corey's shaken a bit."

"As any kid should be."

"You guys be careful."

"Thanks."

"Love you, Emory."

"You too." We hung up.

Had Larry ever told me that? It was funny how emergencies made people truly drop their guards.

"Do you really want to drive to your place?" Don asked.

"Do you want to sit in the dark with no power?"

"Well ... I suppose not."

"Not that there is any guarantee that I have it."

By the time we got to the car, there was no daylight left. Just a glimmer on the horizon. We locked his house and slowly crawled down his neighborhood streets in my car.

There was a clear division of where lights were on and where they weren't. Limbs in yards could be occasionally seen. There were considerably more smaller branches in the road than large limbs, but we still drove very slowly. We speculated that many fences in backyards had been damaged.

It was clear that my neighborhood had power when we turned the corner to my street. Once in my house, Don turned on the television for updates while I inspected each room. I grabbed a flashlight and made one lap around the house outside. Everything seemed secure. No structural damage at least. I was confident a second look in the morning would yield the same results.

"The main damage seems to be a 7-11 — roof completely blown off — and a couple of warehouses," Don reported. "A few residential areas are expected to have suffered damage. They really don't know at this point. They are thinking an F-2."

I sat next to him. I reached for his hand. "We're safe."

He leaned into me. "We are."

We continued to watch the news. An occasional text would come in for Don from one of his committees. He talked to his sister too to let her know we were okay.

After 10:30, we had heard enough. We were tired. Don always had clothes at my place, so he was fine.

I brushed my teeth and peed. I got into bed wearing my boxers and a T-shirt. It seemed like there was just a touch of a chill. I had turned the heat off last week, but I knew spring nights could still be chilly. I got out of bed and went to adjust the thermostat again.

When I returned, Don was standing at the side of the bed naked. That almost always insinuated he wanted sex.

"You aren't seriously ...? After tonight?"

"No." Don almost looked dazed. I wondered if he was thinking clearly. "I ... just want to feel you next to me tonight. Your skin to mine. Would you be willing? I need to feel you. Does that make sense?"

"I ... guess."

I took all my clothes off and slipped back into the sheets. We became a mound of arms. Our bodies pressed together. Neither of us were hard.

Our noses touched each other.

"I'm glad we're okay," he whispered.

I kissed him. "We are."

Our penises touched. Neither of them was hard.

We held tighter.

"Can I make a confession?" Don said.

"Hm?"

"I was scared today. I don't think I voiced that, but I was scared. Thank you for being my rock."

"I'm glad we were together."

We squeezed each other tighter. We held. We kissed for a minute. Then Don rolled over to back his body into mine to be a spoon.

—

"Thanks for meeting me," I said to Cooper and Larry.

"Don didn't want to join us?" Cooper asked.

"His arts committee meets the fourth Tuesday night of every month. That's why I chose tonight."

"Oh. Is anything wrong? We were wondering about the night request. It's always coffee on Sunday mornings."

"I just wanted to talk."

"Emory, what is it?" Larry asked.

"I have doubts. Questions. Odd feelings."

"Okay," said Cooper. "We're happy to listen."

"I've been obsessing over things, particularly since the tornado."

"Like what?" Larry asked.

"Me, Don, the house. Hous-ES."

"Was there any damage?" Cooper asked.

"Not that." I sighed. "I'm a bit ... I'm a stupid mess is what I am."

"What's going on?" Cooper asked.

"Don and I consider ourselves partners. We love each other very much." I watched them nod. "When Don lost power during the storm and we went to my place, I thought to myself, `Thank heavens we have two houses.' But most of the time, I question WHY. We're partners. We should be sharing our whole lives together. But we aren't having that conversation. We don't bring it up. And it is beginning to bother me as to WHY."

"Do you want to move in together?" Cooper asked.

"I don't know. I'm troubled. I like my house. It's my house. But-"

"Here we go, fellas. A large Miller Lite draft and two iced teas," Patrice said, setting our beverages down. "You guys ready to order?"

We were simple, three bacon cheeseburgers and tots. I hadn't been to McGee's in a long time. I'm glad Larry had chosen it.

"Go on," Cooper said.

"Where was I? Yeah. I like my house. Everything is where I like it. I'm set in my ways. But I like being over at Don's too. I'm really torn."

"I realize you and I are two completely different people, but ... since moving in with Cooper, I'm deliriously happy," Larry said. "Coming home every night to be in Cooper's arms ... our bed. I don't miss my old place at all."

The two of them smiled at each other. Then they kissed. And kissed some more.

"Okay, okay, okay. Stop it you two."

They smiled and giggled.

"I love him with all my heart and soul," Cooper said.

"And ... and I ... feel that way about Don. I guess."

"So, what holds you back on at least having the discussion?"

"Fear!"

"Of what?" Larry asked.

"What if I bring it up, and he doesn't want to? You know, me move in."

"Would you be okay if he moved into your place?"

"Well ... yeah. I think I'd like it, but ... Larry, we know he has the better house."

"Is it because you'd have to give up being the master of the house?" Cooper asked.

"Master??"

"Well, you know. You get to decide where everything goes and all that."

"Maybe a little bit."

"Is there something else?" Larry asked.

"I'm not sure."

"Let's role play," Larry said. "Pretend I'm Don. We're finishing up dinner, and he asks, `Emory, we love each other; we're partners. I think we should live together. I'd like you to move in with me.' NOW, what do you feel in your gut."

"Resistance."

"Why?"

"Because ... because I'm afraid."

"Of what?" Cooper asked.

"I'm afraid I'll move in, and he will realize that I'm not worth the trouble."

"WHAT!??" they both barked.

"Here we are guys," Patrice said. She set down the three identical plates. We all smiled and told her we were good.

Each of us took a bite of our massive burgers. I saw Larry squirt a puddle of ketchup for his tots.

After a minute, conversation resumed.

"Emory, you and Don spend a lot of time at each other's houses. Why would it be different if you lived together permanently?" Cooper asked.

"Because it is every day."

"And...?" Larry said, confused.

"When you see each other every other day or every few days, then it is kind of special. But if I was always there, he'd be off to meetings or social events and I ... I'd just be sitting at home. I'd be nothing. He'd figure that out quickly."

"Oh, pffff," Cooper said. "He loves you. He knows exactly who you are."

"I know. He once told me `You're enough.' Those exact words."

"Then believe him!" Larry said, his cheek full of ground beef and bacon.

"I believe he thinks that. But we aren't together all the time. That would change things. He'd get bored with a partner that has no purpose."

"You're retired!" Cooper argued. "Your purpose is to relax and enjoy life."

"And yet Don is this sophisticated social butterfly."

"He. Loves. You. Unquestionably. If the two of you really love each other, you should be able to have this conversation."

"Exactly," Larry chimed in.

"And that scares me too. The fact that we haven't really discussed it makes me think he doesn't want to and ..."

"Is there a wrong answer here?" Cooper said.

"How is everything, boys?"

We all nodded to Patrice.

"Want another beer?"

I noticed I had been sucking the first one down faster than I thought.

"Sure." I looked at Larry.

"If you want one, get one," Cooper nudged. "It's fine."

"It's also fine that I have iced tea. I'm good, Patrice. Thank you."

Larry liked beer, but he was so devoted to Cooper he wouldn't drink around him. I respected him for that.

"Back to my question," Cooper asked. "You guys are happy the way you are, right?"

I nodded.

"And if you agreed to move in together, you'd be happy too, right?"

"I think so."

"So there doesn't seem to be a wrong answer."

"Unless he tires of me. And then I have no house!"

"I think you need to have this conversation," Larry said.

"And it might help to talk to someone to help sort out these anxieties."

"What? Like a shrink?"

"Talking to Logan helped me figure things out," Cooper said. "It really helped Mitchell too."

"Yeah, sure. Namaste. Whatever. Fuck that."

"I'm serious," Cooper said.

"So am I," I protested. "Spilling my guts to a stranger isn't me."

"You're talking to us."

"You aren't charging. And I know you!"

"But we have no training," Cooper said. "Logan ... or somebody ... might help resolve the issues you are feeling."

"Or I might just throw money at him and not feel any better."

"Life has no guarantees," Larry said. "But ... I just know how happy I am right now. I'd hate to see you miss out on something that is this wonderful."

"Oh, good lord. Please don't kiss again."

Larry picked up a tator tot and slowly moved it to Cooper's mouth, who played along and opened his mouth sensually. He chewed and swallowed it with sexual moans. It was all done for my benefit, but deep down, I admired the love shared between those two. Cooper had chosen wisely.

"You two suck."

They howled.

We spent the rest of our meal talking about the tornado and Aiden's week staying with them.

—

I lay in bed staring at the ceiling.

Things were great between Don and me. We didn't have to change a thing.

But was he waiting for me to bring it up? Was I letting him down?

If I gave up this house, what would I miss? I love his place. Anything I have an attachment to I could take with me.

Except Gene. He and I shared this house. Was that what was making me question everything? No. I answered those questions. I knew he was happy for me. But ... Gene was here. Is that why I had never brought it up? Did this house hold the best of both worlds to me?

I remembered making love to Gene in this very bed. We had great sex. Back in our forties, we still did it four or five times a week. In the beginning at least.

I thought about Gene's dick. His cock was bigger than Pedro. He sometimes came quickly when we fucked, but I loved him filling me with his manhood.

Much to my surprise, I was hard. No pills. No touching. Just ... Gene.

I loved Don ... with all my heart and soul, as Cooper said. But I masturbated thinking about Gene. For one night.

—

I sat at my kitchen table in my underwear sipping my coffee. I had the paper spread out.

My cell phone was on the counter. I was surprised when a call came in at 8:10. It seemed early.

"Good morning, my love," Don said after I answered.

"Is everything okay?"

"It ... issss." His answer didn't sound spot on, like something was missing.

"It's kind of early for a call."

"Were you up?"

"Of course. I have the paper."

"Right. Okay. I was hoping that you might spend the night here. I have something to tell you. I'll fix dinner. Is that okay?"

"Of course." Things still seemed ... off.

"And Emory, please bring the ... fun."

Meaning boner bills.

"Certainly," I smiled. "I'll be there late afternoon. Is that fine?"

"It is. Can't wait to see you. Love you. Bye."

He hung up before I could even say that I loved him back. There was almost a touch of nervousness to his speech today.

He said he wanted to tell me something. What would he want to talk about?

Maybe he too was thinking about us moving in together. Maybe that was why he was nervous.

Even if that wasn't it, I felt it was time for me to broach the subject. As the boys said, if we love each other, we should be able to have this conversation. Hopefully.

—

I helped peel the potatoes as Don tended to the baked chicken. That was my task. He would do all the other steps to make mashed potatoes following.

"By the way, all your clothes for my house have been washed and put in your drawer," he said.

My house.

I was always content with us living in different houses, but lately the fact that we weren't was bugging me.

"Hon', you said you wanted to talk about something," I said to the potato peelings.

"Yeah."

But then he said nothing.

"Soooo...?"

"I'll tell you more when we sit down to dinner."

I could tell this wasn't going to be about either of us moving. Or was it? Maybe he was avoiding talking about it. Was he scared to bring it up too?

Forty-five minutes later, all the side dishes and the baked chicken were on the table.

"This smells great, babe," I said.

"Thank you."

I wasn't going to say anything else until he did.

We dished up our plates, and Don could completely feel my eyes staring at him. We took a few bites.

"So." He swallowed. "In the Arts League, there is a gentleman named Harry. We talked last night."

Does he have feelings for him?
Did something happen between them?
Did Harry flirt with Don?
Is he wanting a three-way?

Dear lord, Emory. Calm the fuck down! Why did I go down that path?

"Go on," I said.

"His house was hit by the tornado."

"Oh, goodness. Is he okay?"

"He is. The house isn't. It took a lot of damage. I think he feels worse about losing some very personal items more than the damage to the house itself. It sounded like the roof on one end was ripped up. Lots of water damage."

"Poor guy."

"Right. He is staying in a hotel right now."

"Ouch. That has to be tough."

Don set his silver down.

"It's going to run up a lot. He said his insurance will pay a certain stipend amount while his house is repaired, but this could be close to two months."

I didn't say anything. I just kept listening.

"Sooo. I asked him if he would like to use my guest room while the repairs are done to his home."

"That was nice of you."

"Are you okay with that??!"

"It's your house. You can do whatever you want."

"But ... you're here a lot too. And ... Harry will always be here."

"He's not gay, is he?"

"No."

"Then I don't need to be jealous."

"You never need to be jealous. You're my one and only. BUUUUT ... we couldn't walk around naked or have screaming awesome sex."

"We can do that at my place. We learned to be quiet when your sister was here."

"Are you REALLY okay with all this?"

"Sure. It's a very kind gesture. You're a very loving man. I think it's wonderful."

"And it's only temporary."

—

"Oh God, Emory. Ohhh, fuck I'm close. I'm close I'm close I'm close. Keep fucking me hard."

I could feel Don's fist pounding his dick between us.

"KISS ME!" he demanded.

I leaned down and our mouths locked. The scream deep inside him traveled into my mouth as I felt his fist rub my navel and his cum spurt between us. He groaned into my throat throughout his orgasm.

We didn't stop kissing. We didn't stop fucking. I loved feeling my steel rod drill into his hole. I wasn't too far off either.

Our mouths separated so we could breathe. We fucked and breathed. We fucked and breathed heavily.

"Keeeeeeeep fuckiiiiiiinnnng meeeeeeee," he wailed.

Don's hands clutched my ass as I kept thrusting my male anatomy into his. Inside him. Deep inside him.

I panted hard. I fucked hard.

The stickiness between us spread further and moved around our bodies.

"God damn, it feels sooo good inside you, babeeeee," I moaned. "Unnnghh. Unnnghh. I'm ... I'mmmm..." I called out, "OHHHHH! Yeah! FUCK!' Spasm after spasm of cum shot into my lover. "Ungh. Ungh. UNGHHHH!! Ohhh. Fuck. Yeah!"

And then I just panted as my cock continued to pulse, wanting more cum to keep releasing. More cum to shoot all night.

Pedro was a trooper, but even he had to give up the fight. It was a great orgasm, so he deserved a reprieve.

I pressed my mouth firmly on Don's. We kissed passionately longer than I expected. Our love was clear. It was evident.

"I'm so glad we did this," he said.

"Obviously, I enjoyed it too."

"Thank you for being understanding. We can't do that — at least here — for a few weeks."

"We'll find our way. And we have my house to get all wild and crazy."

Don smiled at me. "I'm so glad you feel fine with all this."

I did feel fine. But more than anything else, I felt relieved that we didn't have the conversation that I knew we needed to.

But was that a good thing? Or was it a sign of a deeper problem?

* * * *

This chapter might have reminded you of the tornado chapter in Book Six: Laramie. I made a specific blog post about all this. It may be of interest (or not). Look for the post "Fitting Together" at timothylane414stories.blogspot.com

Email is enjoyed: timothylane414@gmail.com