Paul and David Redux Chapter Four
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David and Paul enjoyed a companionable silence as they traveled south along the coast, a warm respite from the cares of the modern world and its divisiveness. Their companionship of nearly two-thirds of their lives shared together, since they were twenty-one-year-old missionaries, had given them many opportunities to test each other and learn from each other and learn the ways a marriage is about give-and-take, as well as compromise.
Gliding into the heavy traffic along the Pacific Coast Highway in Malibu, they were both eager to land in Mario and Peter's wonderful beach home, where many memorable occasions have been staged. Paul was looking forward to a few days simply lounging, spread out nearly naked on the patio facing the ocean, with no demands for cooking, cleaning, or managing a huge farming operation.
David, likewise, shared Paul's vision of the next few days, especially since he had not yet revealed to Paul his plans to retire from the Federal Reserve Bank. That was something that was best if it was couched in a leisurely atmosphere, with Paul as relaxed as possible.
Paul's cousin Peter welcomed them with overwhelming warmth, and soon all four gay men were enjoying the bright sun as well as cold drinks on the patio; Peter and Mario in Speedos, Paul and David in Aussie-style surfer trunks.
"So what brings you this far away from the farm?" questioned Peter.
"Well, we have a lot of things to think about, discuss, and mull as we contemplate what is happening in our lives and we try to prepare for the next stage." Paul realized he was sounding far more serious than he intended, and a glance from David told him he was heading into some stormy weather for the two of them.
"Yes; in fact, there are several things that we could use your advice in helping us consider" David added. Years of living with this wonderful man had taught Paul the warning signs of David's contemplative nature: he was about to hear some news, he was sure.
"I have always considered life and death to be a theoretical construct" David began. "At the least, it is a statistical theory, so many billion people on the planet today, add a few births, subtract a few deaths, and tomorrow you have a different number of billion people on the planet. Same planet, different day, different numbers."
Paul was increasingly uncomfortable with the nature of this conversation; life and death, after all, were not to him theoretical, since the loss of all of his family: father, mother, grandparents. He was staring at David, and realized he was gripping the wicker arms of the chaise lounge with white knuckles.
"That is, until two weeks ago; I was just beginning to cross the street two blocks down from my office at the bank in San Francisco when a car came racing through the intersection against the red light; it was less than six inches from killing me and probably less than one inch from killing a bag lady who had just stepped off the opposite curb."
Paul let out a gasp. "You did not say anything to me about that."
"No, and perhaps I should have, but it pushed me into a new frame of thinking."
Peter, glued to his cousin's husband's conversation, prodded him to go on: "So share it with us."
"I realized that the time has come for me to make some adjustments in my time frame, my scheduling, my world view, and pay better attention to the people who mean the most to me. There will always be a Federal Reserve Bank, and there will always be new young talent clawing their way to the top to take over my position, so it's time for me to step down."
He blew out a long sigh, and was immediately covered by Paul who gave him a long embrace: "I knew there was something on your mind, I just had no idea it might be something like this." They kissed, and were applauded by Mario and Peter.
"Salud!" Mario proclaimed, raising his glass of white wine. David responded by raising his glass of (Mormon) lemonade, and all four gay men stood and hugged.
"So do you have a plan?" Mario asked. Paul gulped, because as well as he knew David, of course there was a plan; ergo the two-week interval between the traffic incident and this announcement.
"I have already applied for a six-month leave of absence, which is waiting approval from the Board of Governors in DC, and then the appointment of a temporary replacement, after which I will apply for retirement. At that point, I will be the full-time yard boy for a fabulously wealthy and sexy eccentric gay farmer in Sacramento."
Paul was the first to laugh. "You? Doing yard work? The last time I saw you doing yard work was unloading the trash bags into the county dumpster."
David and Peter both laughed, while Mario smirked; "I know exactly what you mean" he responded to Paul. "Peter's idea of yard work is honking at the seagulls in the driveway."
Paul knew that this journey, getting away from the farm and life in Sacramento and their various entanglements, was exactly the correct medicine for an un-named illness they had been afflicted with over the past half-dozen months. Life becomes so busy, we become so over-scheduled, we do not realize that time, the only thing over which we may have a semblance of control, has escaped our grasp.
"May I add an additional surprise to this bomb shared by my lover?"
David was now fully attentive to Paul: "What's next?" he was silently wondering.
"I have been approached by a few different organizations who have expressed interest in buying the farm, although none of them seemed serious, or at least the offering prices were so low as to not merit consideration. Anyway, I think it might be time for us to consider selling the farm."
This time it was David who gasped; the home they had shared and loved and built and re-modeled and raised two babies in, had enjoyed and where they cared for each other, was fully a part of them and their lives, so to consider selling it was unthinkable. David had been raised in a shamble of apartments and rentals as his parents fought and divorced, so this home he and Paul had made their own was the only place on the planet he considered sacred.
Additionally, this was financially a huge prospect: the farming corporation, for which Paul was the president and general manager, was the third or fourth largest of its kind in California, after a few orange and avocado groves in San Diego county and Imperial Valley, and of course the queen of them all, the `Wonderful Company', friends of the Trump empire, who produced Fiji water, pistachios, almond milk, and were the single largest consumer of the California agricultural water system.
Paul said "Well, we do not even have to consider any of the offers because all of them wanted to purchase only slices of the whole pie; I will not consider selling off the Campbell legacy in bits and pieces. Until someone comes along with an offer for the entire operation, we have nothing to lose any sleep over."
"And then, after you sell the farm, what will you do?" Peter tried keeping the conversation alive.
"Well, something like our missionary work when we were in Japan, perhaps, although clearly the church is not about to draft us for that type of work."
"And perhaps charity work?" Mario volunteered.
"Sure, like that thing that Jimmy Carter does, the house-building thing, maybe you can do that?" Peter added.
"I think it's called Habitat something" David said, "and if there is a chapter in the Sacramento valley, we do not even have to leave home, we can volunteer on an as-needed basis and sleep in our own beds."
"I like the sound of that" Paul sighed. "Those brochures that urge you to `see the world' do not mention the bedbugs."
Laughing, the group gravitated toward the kitchen, where Peter was starting dinner. "I hope everyone likes lobster Thermidor" he announced, and the three others were assigned by him to fix a salad, set the table on the patio, and whip the cream for the fruit desert. Peter announced that Raj and Stuart were joining them for dinner; Mason's nephew and his husband were steady guests at the beach house and in fact were half-owners.
Late that night in bed, Paul was comfortably relaxed with his head on David's chest, enjoying the assurance of David's arm around his shoulders. He mumbled to David "It seems we have a lot to talk about."
"Yes, but please remember, we came on this vacation to vacation, not to drag our Sacramento issues with us."
Paul was asleep before David finished, and soon rolled over into his familiar puppy-dog snore that signaled to David it was time for lights out.