Disclaimer and all that.
If you are under age to read male-male romance, Begone. (Until you're of age.)
Names, locations and trademarks are fictitious or used fictitiously.
Thank you to: RimPig, George Gardner, Tim Mead, and MickeyS.
Special thank you goes to Drew Hunt, who made some very useful suggestions.
A shout out to my devoted reader BR-CA. Doing a fine job at one of the most challenging things on earth.
The dvd? "Best In Show" is extremely funny, but why did the guys have to have Shi-Tzu's? I love not the Shi-Tzu. If any of you have a Shi-Tzu, my apologies, if I have offended.
Copyright 2006 by Lawrence Prichard __________
Tuesday Evening, late mid January. 6:35 pm.
Jerome's turn.
My heart sank when I came through the garage door into the kitchen.
Denys was blaring a Petula Clark compilation cd. It could be worse. It could have been Joy Division.
Denys plays Petula Clark when he's very bummed, but willing to talk. Joy Division is another story.
I padded over to the undercabinet cd player, and turned down the volume before turning it off.
"What's wrong, Furball?"
"Mr. Simpkins, your Auntie Bess's new lawyer, called. He didn't want to tell me, but I wormed it out of him. She's in the hospital with a hip fracture. She's conscious, nasty to the staff, and demanding your presence. I have made a reservation for you on the 8:50 to Chicago, and reserved you a car. You're already packed, and I am about to drive you to Hopkins. Eat your sandwich."
"Oh, Den...."
"You love that horrid old woman, and I cannot abide her. Go. I'll be ok. The call came in when you were making deliveries. I've already talked with Maria and Bobby, and we'll be fine at the shop for a while. You'd better be back by the 12th, howsofuckingever."
Denys and Auntie Bess do not get along at all, which is puzzling to me. They're a lot alike. They both love music, they are great cooks, big readers, but Denys calls her a "fetid cesspool," and Auntie Bess calls my dear man "that nasty little catamite."
When we had our commitment ceremony, we included "for better or for worse" in our vows, but I didn't think the relatives would be such a problem. I married Denys, not his Cousin Nikki Morys or his Aunt Henrietta, and Denys didn't intend to marry Auntie Bess or my cousin Arnie Pumphrey, but they have all come along for the ride.
Isabel Mayson Smith is my Dad's only sibling, and now that Dad is gone, my only link to that side of the family. She is a brilliant businesswoman, making a moderate inheritance into a great fortune. I don't care much about the money. Something Beautiful is doing quite well.
She has always been kind to me, and when I came out to her all those years ago, she just smiled and hugged me, and told me: "Be honest, be nice, and it will work out." For the most part, it has.
Since Uncle Norris, her deeply loved husband died, she's been rattling around their huge old house in Winnetka, with just a cook-housekeeper and a contracted gardener. They didn't have children. I don't know if that was entirely by choice. My sister and I have always been very close to her, but Sheilagh is in Bombay with her husband Derryl, who is some sort of high-level executive. Sheilagh writes children's novels under an assumed name, and does well at it. She'd love to have a successful series character, but lightning bolts haven't struck yet.
Denys surprised me with his determination. He has a lot of medical issues, some of them more severe than others, plus he has some personality quirks that make me reluctant to leave him for indefinite lengths of time.
"I'll be fine, Jerome. My blood glucoses are stable, my last A1c (a test for long range blood glucose) was 6.3% (good to very good), and I have an appointment with Lorna on Friday." Lorna Shulweiz, PhD. is Denys's therapist, confessor, and friend.
"If you're gone more than a week or so, I'll call in Donna to clean with me." Denys, when left to his own devices, reverts to his old "Oscar Madison" self. Not all of us are tidy. When Denys is in a depressive state, he can make our usually neat house into a disaster area in short order. Donna Federici is a lovely, organized woman who comes in and cleans. Denys feels guilty, so he works alongside her.
Denys grabs me, and takes me over to the freezer, and opens it: "See, full of Lean Cuisines and Healthy Choices." Denys is a marvellous, fearless cook, but when it's just himself, he hates to cook, and just throws things into the Radarange.
"Well, ok, Furball. I guess I will go to see Auntie Bess."
"Good. Ethyl is expecting you around 11 this evening."
"Uh, Den......?"
"Yes, I packed your bar vest, your black jeans, and your boots. CellBlock's site hasn't been updated, but I put the number and address in with your things. Go, and play. You'll need it after a few days with Bess and rattling around that Stately Home. I think Master Andy might be doing a demonstration session this coming Friday. Just don't fucking fall in love with him."
"Not a chance Denys, not a chance. I might play with Master Andy, but you're the man I love. So very much."
This was the second time in an hour that Denys used the F word. He knows how to swear, and can do it impressively well, but generally chooses not to swear at all.
I wish I could take the laptop, but Auntie Bess is a computerphobe. Denys looked at me and said "My celly is charged, and it will be with me at all times, except when I am showering, Furball. Turn off YOUR celly when you are in the hospital, and if anything happens, but it won't, I will leave you a voicemail, and you check it at lunch. Or every four hours. The charger to your celly is in the suitcase, next to your grooming kit."
I scowled, and put my shoes back on. I went to the bedroom, opened the suitcase, and gave it a quick glance. Everything was neatly, tightly packed. I closed and locked the suitcase, and took it out to the kitchen.
"We'll get you some gum, magazines and a bottle of water at the airport. Here's your carryon bag with your portable cd player, some discs, and your chocolate."
Neither of us likes to fly, and we really hate to fly alone. It's noisy, and cramped, and you never know who is next to you until it's too dammed late. When we fly alone, we insist on a big bar of pure chocolatex in our cabin bag. Denys's choice is dark sweet chocolate, and mine is milk chocolate. If we're going to face death in the clouds, we want chocolate or cum in our mouth at the last moment. Since we can't always gurantee the person sitting beside us will be agreeable, or even male, there is the chocolate.
"If we're there early enough, there's the chance you might get the bulkhead seat and that much more room."
"Let's go."
We head out to Denys's Camry, after I hug Wolf and go to pat Mr. Smith in his room. "Take care of Denys," I tell them both. Wolf's eyes say "I will," and Mr Smith purrs his odd dove-like purr at me, saying "Who are you, again?"
We're two bummed bruins.
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