T.R.'s Tale - 1. Chapter 1

The warm wind directed by the cranked out vent window made my shirt flutter against my chest. The breeze kept my face dry but did nothing to alleviate the streams of sweat trickling down my back and pooling at the waistband of my wranglers. I unsnapped my shirt and let the breeze eat up the sheen of sweat on my chest. The droplets that collected on the hairs tickled like a thousand mosquitoes trying to gain access to my flesh. I tucked the shirt between my back and the seat in an effort to soak up the sweat. The sweat was not what I would get from my usual morning run, but I reasoned that it was at least something. I could have rolled up the windows and turned on the AC, but there is something about Segar that cries for wind in your face and a burning desire to “roll that power on”.

The “Lumbering Behemoth Jeep” aka LBJ, was my baby. I found LBJ in a neighbor’s barn when I was a freshman in high school. I was the only one who saw the humor in the fact that the real LBJ had a big dick and was fond of flashing it in order to intimidate other men, wish I had seen it. We towed her into the school’s auto shop and began to rework her from the frame up. I begged, borrowed and stole to get what she needed. Mechanically she was in good shape. There was virtually no rust. By the time I graduated high school she was showroom fresh. Gray exterior with darker gray leather interior. Someone referred to her as an “American Land Rover”… To me she is superior. The tailgate has a subtle image in shades of gray and black. It shows a cowboy and a black stallion facing off within a corral. The cowboy is trying to lasso the rearing stallion. No, I didn’t do it, I am not artistically inclined. A friend of a friend had done the drawing in art class. It actually took more time to render the tailgate than it did to overhaul the engine. I like the fact that the mural is subtle yet distinctive. When it comes to LBJ, I know every bolt, nut, and washer. She’s mine.

Later, as the heat built and I got further away from home I would use the AC and replace Bob with something a little more sedate. But right now it was "Rambling Gambling Man" and I was slapping the driver’s side mirror with my left hand. Segar always helped me not to think. I think too much. It’s always been like that. I sometimes envy those that seem to muddle along without a single well thought out opinion. I have often wondered what it would be like to come home to a wife and two point five kids. To come through the door and utter the most thought-provoking comment of my day, “Honey, I’m home. What’s for dinner?” Yeah, right. That’s not me, on so many levels.

I was in a particularly good mood. I was heading to an interview that was the job of my dreams. Ah, dreams… Fuck! I hate it that shit can sneak up on me when I least expect it. I closed my vent and rolled up the windows and turned on the AC. I knew that even Segar couldn’t help me now. I slowed the lumbering beast and set the cruise and let my thoughts take me. Shit! Bet that fucker with the mindless job and 2.5 kids never had to put up with his brain pulling him down like this.

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Growing up gay is tough on any kid. Growing up gay in a small Texas town, as I did…is beyond tough… it’s impossible. I never let anyone know. At least not until I was far from home… if you can accept that Colorado is “far” from Texas? In college I had a few experiences with guys, enough to know where my preferences lay.

I’m Gay. See, I have to stop and think about that label…. I did say it. “Mom, Dad… I’m gay.” What I should have said is, “I’m a man who is physically and emotionally attracted to other men.” Fuck labels…. They’re important on food, medicine and cigarettes. They have no application to people. Labels belie any other potential one may possess.

When I went to college I knew that back home, I had a girlfriend, friends and family, none of whom had a clue. Each time I went home I slipped quietly back into the “straight suit” that hung in my closet. Fortunately, the girlfriend got married the summer before my senior year of undergraduate school. My family and friends were a lot more upset about it than me. The fact that I had been dumped allowed me to beg off anytime they tried to fix me up. My friends all assumed the wild sex I refused to talk about was with coeds. I never argued, why should I. I have fucked Girls and guys, I much prefer the later. Just like I’ve always preferred ranch life to city living. After all it’s in my blood. I was raised on a farming ranch just outside of a little town northwest of Beaumont. City life just always seemed like a too heavy coat. So why did I commit to work at a small animal clinic in Denver? I was in love or lust. Doesn't matter, either one will make you do stupid stuff. So, no small town for me, I was willing to be one more gay Vet in Denver to hold onto my man.

Hold on let me start from … if not the beginning then at least I’ll start at where it makes sense to me.

Two weeks away from becoming, Timothy Reed Boudreaux, DVM, the love of my life, Professor Robert Wortham Paulding announced he was about to become a first time father. We had been lovers for almost two years.

We had met in a gay bar in Steamboat Springs. He was a history professor on the same campus where I was studying my ass off to become a veterinarian. He was and probably still is the youngest department head at the university. I suppose if you’re invited to present papers at Oxford and have had two best sellers in historical fiction… well, being made a department head just comes along with the other perks. He was smart, I’ll grant him that… a lot smarter than I. He was and for all I care, still is, married.

The first time I spent the night in his condo, I didn’t know who he was. The next morning, after a round reminiscent of the night before, we introduced ourselves. I had come with some classmates and told them I ran into a “family friend”. We spent the weekend in his condo. As much as I like skiing… I like good sex better…. And this was great sex. The last night we made plans to meet back on campus. He came to dinner at my apartment and there he told me he was married. By that time I was too much “involved”. Like a fool, I believed he was trapped in a marriage that was in name only. They almost never had sex and no children.

In love and war, sacrifices have to be made. I’d accepted a position with a small animal clinic, at which my orientation was not to be an issue. Small animal medicine is fine, but I really wanted a cross section. I didn’t want just production (bovine, swine and sheep) and I didn’t want just small animals. I wanted to be the Vet equivalent of a family medicine MD. I wanted to work with farm and ranch animals and people I understood. I have a problem with folks thinking dogs are people or that cats should be worshipped.

With Robert, I was looking at building a life together. I would keep my apartment until Robert, never Bob, and I made more permanent arrangements. I should have asked what he was willing to sacrifice. Even after the “divorce”, I figured he would have a hard time living openly as a gay man. We talked a lot about other things… not so much about us. Looking back I know that I should have forced the whole issue of “us” a lot sooner. I guess deep inside, I knew how it would play out. I just lied to myself. There is no fool, like a self-made fool.

For almost two years we had been lovers. It didn't help the situation or my ego to realize that I was the other woman. You could say that I suddenly understood the situation all too well… even if it took me almost two years. I didn’t like what I had become. I suppose having been closeted for so long, it just seemed normal to avoid appearing anywhere in public as a gay couple.

It would be unfair to say he didn’t care for me. Still, I believe he loved his wife, or rather his “life” more. Too bad she didn’t have a dick to stick up his ass. If she had, I wouldn’t have been scrambling, trying to find a new position.

Here I was headed west to interview for a job that seemed to fit my needs. Now, if they could accept a gay Vet with a slightly damaged ego… we would be a good match.

You may wonder why I chose to go back to live in an environment that was, to say the least, oppressive toward my orientation. Well, I could tell you about roots and home and Texas. All of these played a roll, and yet it was not really any or even all of those that sent me running back to small town Texas. In Denver, I could and would no longer hide my orientation. I didn’t have a rainbow sticker. I just flat refused to answer inappropriate questions and never denied my orientation. I learned to counter the nosey by asking, “Why, are you hitting on me?” The straight face I showed always seemed to make them nervous. Sometimes I was made nervous by their admission that they were in fact “hitting on me”. I didn’t cheat, I was in love. It’s strange that as I grew more comfortable with my “gayness”, Robert seemed to be withdrawing deeper into his closet. When he made his announcement and the break finally came, I took stock and decided “no more lies”. I gave my regrets to the small animal clinic. I got a tattoo to remind me. Don't let anyone lie to you getting a tattoo HURTS!

Tibi

ipsi dic

vera

“To thine own self be true”. I have since learned that Billy Boy was actually saying "Always take care of numero Uno first." To me, both interpremeanings are apt.

Robert was a painful lesson, I never wanted to delude myself again. That tattoo was arced in half inch letters above my right nipple. So, after all that, why am I going back? To tell the truth? To start where it all began and become at last who I really am? I think I was angry. I was looking for someone to try and knock the chip off my shoulder. Now that I was “out”, I think I was looking for someone, anyone to give me some shit about sucking dick, or taking it up the ass. Anything that would allow me to strike out. I was angry at everyone and every institution that ever made me feel ashamed for having been born gay.

The worse reaction I got was from one of my best friends… he just turned and walked away. I had my fill of living like I should. I had fucked up by loving like I shouldn’t. I wanted to be at peace with myself even if it meant I might not have anyone who loved me. ("Moving On" by Rascal Flats)

I decided I needed to change. Change my location, change my direction, and most importantly change me. Before I left Denver I went out and bought a rainbow sticker for LBJ’s rear windshield.

Once back in back in Texas, I got a concealed weapons permit and packed my snub nosed 38 wherever I went (I wasn‘t stupid… in all things.) I also spent the summer coming out to my family, friends and even my old girlfriend. I even told my mare… she was more concerned about the carrot. Family ties were strained but not broken. I figure in time we will become close knit again. If not, at least I’m at peace with myself. I had two older brothers so I was not the end of the Boudreaux line.

Through a former professor I learned of a small practice just the other side of Dallas that needed some help. I made a phone call to introduce myself, faxed a resume, letters and anything I could to get the job. It was just what I was looking for, a small town near a big city. I hoped I had what they were looking for. I decided to drive over and personally introduce myself.

I spoke on the phone to “Doc”. He was the senior partner and looking to retire. As soon as they found someone they thought compatible with the practice and the community, he would begin to participate less and less in the practice. Eventually, I would be allowed to buy into the practice. I arranged a time that was mutually convenient and headed out the next day.

We'd decided that I would stay overnight in a local motel and we could get better acquainted. When I packed, I didn't leave anything behind I couldn't live without. When I arrived it was just after noon. I called the office to let them know I had checked in at the motel and would be looking around town. I spoke to “Doc jr”. I was pretty sure this wasn't a father-son operation. At any rate Jr. better known as David Jantzen, insisted I come on over and introduce myself and he would show me around the clinic. I had found the clinic before I had checked in so going back there was no problem.

The clinic was pretty much a functional building. The lines were clean. There were cottonwood trees on either side of the entrance and trimmed hedges separating the building from the wraparound sidewalk. The reception area was clean, spacious and inviting.

There was only one client waiting, a black Great Dane. A single bark then a wag of the tale told me he most likely wanted to be friendly. Looking for and getting permission from the owner, I approached and knelt down and extended the back of my hand for sniffing. He must have liked the smell. He licked my hand and tried to lick my face. I roughed his head and jowls and scratched behind him behind the ears. His owner, a lady in her forties, said, “Bruno had aspirations of being my watch dog. Unfortunately he is more apt to hold a flashlight for an intruder than actually attack. He must have been what they had in mind when they said, “His bark is worse than his bite”. I’m Julie Evans and you’ve met Bruno. You’re new in town. What brings you to our thriving metropolis?”

“Well, Miss Evans, I’m T. R. Boudreaux here checking out and being checked out to become the newest Vet. I like the looks of your town. Now if the Doctors and staff like me, I might become a permanent resident of your… thriving metropolis.”

“Oh, please call me Julie, all my friends and customers do. I run the diner over on the highway. Sooner or later everyone in town passes through there. I have a feeling you’ll be a regular. I am damn near psychic, so I scare the pants off most of the town’s “born again”. They have too much to hide… what about you T R? You got a lot to hide?”

Bold as brass, tough as nails, and still very likeable. Julie would fit in well as “Miss Kitty” in any Dodge City. I smiled as I remembered that Matt Dillon seemed to prefer the company of men. Her probing I accepted as good-natured nosiness. I laughed and said, “Miss Julie, you are a breath of fresh air.”

Still on my knees, I heard a voice behind me say, “No she’s not, she’s just fresh.” there was an openness and humor in that rich baritone.

At the first sound, I turned my head and saw boots. My eyes climbed up strong legs to a well defined torso and onto a smiling handsome face. He was wearing a white lab coat over an open collared shirt. Tufts of soft black hair were escaping from that collar. A five o’clock shadow draped a strong jawline and an honest, warm, open smile. His eyes were blue gray, like someone added ink to milk. I stood and extended my hand. He was maybe an inch shorter than my six feet. His grip was strong and friendly, that seemed to match his smile. His face went strange and he stared down at our clasped hands. It was then I realized I had shared some of Bruno’s slobbers. We both laughed. We understood it was simply an occupational hazard. He wiped his hand on his lab coat and I wiped mine on my handkerchief.

"David Jantzen, we spoke on the phone. Don’t let Miss Julie fool you with that mumbo jumbo about being psychic, she’s just intuitive. Still, she unnerves a lot of people, if they’re naïve enough to listen. My advice is don‘t. She told me the other day I was soon to meet the love of my life. Not likely to happen around here.“ Bending slightly he scratched Bruno behind his ears. Bruno’s response was to slobber more and let his tail beat a rhythm against the closest chair. ”Maybe she meant you, eh Bruno. Are you the love of my life?”

Julie stiffened and pointedly ignoring David, said, “Doc jr. here is lucky Bruno never learned any attack commands. I know when I been insulted.” The scowl she gave was intended to melt paint… but faded into a smile almost immediately. “Mind what I told you Davy, it may be closer than you think… Love seldom gives advance warning. Best heed it when it does. You might be able to avoid a heartbreak.”

David looked as if he had questions for Julie. Instead he asked about Bruno. Seems the big lug was fond of swallowing odd items. The latest had been a six foot feathered boa. Bruno had just past it last night and this morning. It had been traumatic for him and Julie. Bruno was here to be checked for any tears the string may have caused. The three of us took Bruno into an examining room where David and I lifted a compliant if not wary Bruno onto an examination table. David turned on the endoscope, put on latex gloves and grabbed some lube. Julie and a technician named Alma held Bruno’s head. David examined the anus for any tears then carefully inserted the probe. The screen showed no signs of trauma.

David stripped off the gloves and washed his hands. “Miss Julie, keep an eye on this guy. I don’t think this is the last you’ll see of him swallowing strange objects.”

“Davy, I’ll do my best. I was thinking about a muzzle.” This was said in an almost threatening tone. Bruno tucked his tale and looked pleadingly up at Julie. She laughed and slapped his flank and said, “I was only teasing, you big dummy.” That pleased Bruno and he responded by beating out a rhythm with his tail against the metal door beneath the examination table.

We walked Julie and Bruno back to reception and David took me around for introductions. Doc had been called to a ranch to check on a mare showing signs of imminent delivery. He would most likely be back in the office sometime tomorrow. I was a little concerned that I might not meet him before I left town. I had good vibes from David and was impressed with the clinic overall. It had a staff of four techs and three assistants, plus two receptionist/admin/scheduling personnel. Everyone seemed to be friendly and welcoming.

I really wanted to ask if any other candidates had applied. I just couldn’t figure out how to go about it without sounding like a jerk. David showed me where my office would be… ok, he actually said, "the new Vet’s office". Then he took me into his office and explained the operation. We would get one day off during the week and would be “on call” every sixth weekend. I was confused if there were three Doctors how could it be that we could have such a long break between duty weekends. David explained that there was one other Vet clinic in town. We covered for them and the coverage was reciprocated. He explained that I would get to meet that crew if I took the position. His phrasing left me hopeful… I hadn’t yet broached the issue of my orientation.

Behind the clinic was a boarding kennel. The staff there handled phone calls after hours and on weekends. They notified the duty doctor if needed. I was impressed with the available equipment. Sonography and x-ray equipment was state of the art. Surgical areas were well equipped and even complex procedures were readily accommodated.

This place was the perfect set up for a new Vet to get his feet wet and get well qualified in a hurry. David asked if my room at the motel was comfortable and suggested that while Doc would be most likely unavailable he’d show me around town then we’d go to Julie’s for dinner.