Lion's Lair - 21. The Nearness of You

I thought we had talked through everything. Actually we covered everything we needed to at that moment.

Ryan stayed overnight of course, after the talkathon we’d had. Everything was settled; Ryan would get with his apartment complex’s manager on Monday, confirm and pay the buyout amount needed for the remainder of his lease, and then start planning his move in.

Well, it wasn’t quite that simple.

We both slept in later than usual, since we didn’t finish talking until after 3am. It’s a luxury to have someone to sleep with, positions changing through the night. At times it’d be his chest against my back, then he’d move, and I’d be nestled chest against his back. Or his head on my shoulder. Or my head on his shoulder.

It actually sounds like a lot of movement, and ended up in the morning with limbs entangled, with me extricating myself to make coffee while he softly snored.

Coffee done, I move to the breezeway to enjoy the morning. Although it’s only 9am or so, it’s already getting hot—and the mugginess is definitely in play. I check the weather on my phone, and it’s already 84 degrees and 80% humidity, with a high today of 95. Combined with the humidity, the “feel-like” temp will be 105 degrees or higher. Yes, it’s a sauna in July in south Louisiana.

Ryan rolls out in his chair around 10am or so, holding his coffee in one hand as he scoots over to the table. He lights a cigarette, careful to blow the smoke downwind away from me, takes a drag of it along with a gulp of coffee, then looks at me. “Ok, how are we gonna work this out?”

“What do you mean? I thought we’d settled this last night…are you having second thoughts?”

“Nope, no second thoughts, just thinking about logistics. I need to know how you wanna handle my financial involvement in the place.”

“Ok, Ryan, I’m confused—what are you talking about?”

“Well,” interrupting his sentence with a solid sip of coffee, “how do I pay my fair share of the expenses here? Like, do we alternate grocery shopping? I give you money to split that bill? Or paying electricity and other utility expenses? And what do those expenses normally run? And what about the yard work? I saw a guy one time out with a blower, moving the leaves off the drive; the grassy area down by the lake is obviously regularly mowed. And ….”

“Wait, stop, Ryan, just stop. Look, first things first: I’m just glad you’re here. We can work the logistics out as we go. I’m not at all concerned—it’s just money, we’ve got plenty of it, so no worries. “

“Yeah, but I’m not a freeloader, and I’m not pretty enough to be a kept man. I’ve always paid my own way, and that isn’t gonna change—I’ve gotta be a part of this, so I’m just asking how we’re gonna do it.” He’s smiling as he says it; no anger or frustration, just wanting to work through it all. “And I know you and I don’t see money in the same way, and that’s ok … but, I just need a framework to work past my own issues here.”

We both sat quietly for a moment, thinking.

“Look, Ryan, the expenses here aren’t that much. The electricity is basically a wash, just a few dollars a month, thanks to the solar setup. The solar panels recharge the batteries in the mechanical room you pass coming in from the garage, and the house runs off those batteries. Excess energy is fed back to the power company, and they give me credits. On those very rare days when I do use electricity, the credits apply against it. I think the biggest electric bill I’ve had here has been maybe $50 or $75. The water comes from a small rural company, and it’s only $30 a month. There’s no sewer bill, since I havet a septic treatment tank installed underground. Lawn care is $75 a month because it’s mostly limb pickup if there are storms, blowing the drive, and mowing the grass by the lake every couple of weeks during the growing season. And the house is paid for, so there’s no payment. So the expenses really aren’t much.”

“Ok, so that leaves food, and eating out, and ….”

“Fine. The food we can split, we’ll take turns picking up the tab when we go out for drinks or dinner. We’ll just handle it as we go.”

More silence. He’s still thinking.

“Ok, how about this, Ryan: We’ll open a joint checking account, call it ‘household fund’ or something. We can move money there between our accounts, pay our monthly expenses, and track what we’re doing that way. You’ll keep your account, I’ll keep mine, and you can see how much you’re spending and on what. And when we need to cover extraordinary expenses, we’ll just move money between accounts as needed. For example, when you pay the early move-out cost at your apartment, I’ll move money to that account to cover that expense. How’s that? Will that work for you?”

Ryan has another slug of coffee and lights another cigarette. “That’ll work,” he grins. “I just wanna do my part, ya know? It’s important to me.”

“I know—and I love you for that.”

The “L-word” is now officially a part of casual conversation.

Ryan casually stretches in his wheelchair—and grimaces. “I think I overdid it yesterday with the legs. I’m stiff and sore as hell, and my stumps hurt.” He pulled up the leg of the gym shorts he pulled on when he got out of bed, and starts poking and prodding at his stumps. “Yup, I definitely overdid it.” They are a bright pink at the base, with a couple of small “runner’s blisters” on the side of one of his stumps. “Guess I can’t do my legs tonight at the bar.” He’s obviously disappointed, but he’s handling it.

The next half hour or so is just a relaxed review of items to be done to get Ryan officially moved. We talk about movers, getting settled up with the apartment complex, getting a crew in to pack his things, and so forth. Remarkably, I’ve not been to his place, so I have no clue what he has—but this place is big enough it won’t be an issue. He was able to take care of forwarding his mail by going online, so no need to make a stop by the post office. “The mail runs late here—a lot of times, it’s not delivered until 5pm or later—so you may actually start getting mail today.”

“Good. That’ll make it as official as anything, I guess.” We both laugh. And feel a sense of accomplishment with that first small step of this “new” relationship.

After a quick breakfast of eggs, toast, bacon, and grits, we spend the afternoon relaxing at the pool, with Ryan occasionally climbing into and out of the hot tub to help his legs. We even have time to work in a late afternoon nap before getting cleaned up for the bar’s grand re-opening tonight. Reheating the leftover frozen burgers from last weekend in the microwave made sure we wouldn’t get hit with hunger pains during the bar’s party, and made sure we wouldn’t be drinking on an empty stomach.

We head out at 8:30pm, me driving. I pulled up by the “mail tube” as Ryan called it, he grabbed the contents, put them on the floor in the back, and we’re off.

Minutes later, we’re at the bar—and the parking lot is already full. It’s going to be a huge night for the place. As I pull up in front of the bar, Ryan notices two small signs next to a couple of handicapped parking spaces and the ramp going into the building. “Joe” and “Ryan” appear on the signs. “What, we’ve got our own parking spots? How much did we have to drink to get those?” Ryan’s both surprised and amused.

Inside, Barry is planted on a barstool by the front door, greeting everyone that comes in, wearing a logoed baseball cap of some kind. He greets us with a solid hug, and a kiss on the neck. “So glad you guys are here. Come on in, grab a drink—I’ve reserved a table up front for you. You’ll get the full benefit of the drag queens!” He’s laughing, feeling good, having a sip of a drink on an adjacent table. “It’s only club soda, since I’m still on drugs from the surgery, but it doesn’t matter; I’m having fun!” And he’s right, his face is still swollen from the surgery on Thursday, but he looks good, and his energy is contagious.

Ryan rolls over to the table, I move to the bar to get drinks. Bryant and the new guy Barry hired a couple of weeks ago, Cliff, are in full swing behind the bar, getting drinks out as fast as they can to the building crowd. He spots me, comes back with a beer for Ryan and a gin and tonic for me. “Glad you’re here, Clayton. Enjoy yourselves.”

“Just start me a tab, Bryant. I’ll settle up later.”

“No tab tonight, Clayton, your drinks are on the house.”

Hmm … something’s going on; first the sign outside, then free drinks? Barry’s being generous tonight.

I make my way to the table. Joe and Rex are there, chatting with Ryan. “Hi, guys. If I’d known you were here, I’d have gotten drinks for you.” They each stand and give me a hug, and we all sit. “Barry certainly put us dead center for the show, didn’t he?”

Joe nodded. “Must be some special entertainers tonight or something. But we get a good view of the changes in the place.”

It was then I noticed that the bar looked different. It’d been painted in a sophisticated color scheme with a sandy sage color above the chair rails on the wall, and a medium sage below. New pendant lights are over the bar, which had been traded out for a slab of granite mounted on black piano-finished cabinetry underneath. And new barstools in a silvery grey over a bleached wood finish completed the changes. Quite a lot for less than a week to get it all done.

“It looks nice, doesn’t it? Y’all need anything from the bar?” Rex stands, then heads to work his way in for drinks for him and Joe. He’s back moments later. “Barry’s being generous tonight. Gave me the drinks for free.”

We chatted for a few minutes, and at one point, Rex leans in to me, and whispers, “So when’s Ryan moving in? Next week?”

“How’d ya know?”

Rex just grins that somewhat enigmatic grin. “My Spidey sense, hard at work. I still need to explain that to ya, maybe lunch next week. In the meantime, congratulations.” He raises his scotch in a toast. “To the new couple—best wishes for a long life together.” Joe, Ryan, and I clink our glasses with his, and everyone’s smiling, with Ryan and me perhaps a little surprised and maybe embarrassed by the attention.

He probably already “knows” I’ve got a little money—but I’ll tell him at lunch next week.

“The show will start in 10 minutes.” An announcer’s voice triggers a rush to the bar, and Joe and I work our way up for a fresh round before the show starts. We make it back just in time for the show’s start.

It’s a feature-packed night. Two of the entertainers are former Miss Gay Americas. One is on her way to that pageant this year. Another is the reigning Miss Gay Mississippi, from nearby Biloxi. And the other entertainer is from Pensacola, heading to that state’s pageant this year, too. Barry spent a lot money for the performers tonight.

Their talent performances are just as varied as they are. One does a Patsy Cline song. Another does a comedy act mixed in with a contemporary song I didn’t recognize, as a diva Cher receiving phone calls from previous co-stars. “Who is this? Oh, yeah, I remember you. You’re in A.A. No? N.A.? No? Weight Watchers? No? Can’t take a hint, can ya?” The crowd roared with laughter with each verbal insert in the song, and she raked in plenty of tips.

The third entertainer does “Million Dollar Bill” by Whitney Houston, while the fourth does a Norah Jones version of the torch song, “The Nearness of You”; it’s one of the most beautiful, romantic songs ever. I couldn’t help but grab Ryan’s hand during the performance. He squeezes my hand back—the message of the song got him, too.

The fifth performer does another Whitney Houston song, the remake of “I’m Every Woman.” The crowd at this point is on their feet, dancing, singing along in a real party mood. All too soon, the song ends.

Barry took the stage as the crowd settled down. “Welcome! I’m glad you’re all here. Are you having fun?” Everyone roars their approval.

“Just a few announcements before we go into the second half of the show—and get ready, you’re gonna be blown away by it.” The crowd applauds. “I’m killing time here to allow the performers a chance to get ready, but if you would, hold off on getting your drinks refreshed for a couple of minutes; you’re gonna wanna hear these announcements.” Everyone sits down.

“First, you’ll notice a new look for the place. We’d planned a few changes, and now seemed like a good time to make ‘em. I wanna thank Bryant, the bar’s manager, for coordinating everything you see here tonight. He’s a good man, a great bartender, and you damn straight better tip him and our new bartender, Cliff, tonight.” The crowd laughs and gives a nice round of applause for Bryant and Cliff when Barry recognizes them from the stage.

“Secondly, as you all know, last week was a tough week for both the bar, and me. We’re both doing fine—thank God I’ve got a thick skull. But shit, you knew that, right? All you had to do was ask Bubba about that.” The crowd gets quiet for a minute as Barry takes off his baseball cap to point to the part of his skull still shaved, but starts laughing again when Barry refers to his thick skull and Bubba. It’s a good-natured, fun-loving group in tonight. “But, to recognize the changes to the place, we’re changing the name to what you’ve always called it: ‘The Bar’. And you’ll all get a baseball cap with the new logo of the place on it before you leave.”

It’s then I really noticed the new logo on Barry’s cap. The cap is black, with a rectangular black patch outlined in silver embroidery. “The” is in superscript silver threads, with “BAR” in all caps, also in silver on the right half. There’s a thick line, also in silver, running from half-way under the “The” to underline “BAR”. A gay pride flag starts at just a point in front of the line, then drops underneath the line, spreading as it encircles the underline, then spreads to display each color after “BAR”. It’s a great logo, clean, and unforgettable once seen.

“Finally, I wanna say a word of thanks. All of you know that last week’s event could have had a totally different outcome were it not for the actions of two men who are both regular patrons here and men I’m proud to call my friends. I wanna recognize them for their actions in stopping the robbery here, and potentially saving the lives of everyone in the bar—me included. Please welcome to the stage Joe and Ryan.”

The crowd goes insane, cheering, clapping, stomping feet for several minutes. Everyone’s on their feet. Joe is still seated, and looks at Ryan. Both are totally bewildered, surprised by the attention. “Come on up here, guys,” Barry shouts over the roar of the crowd.

Joe stands, moves behind Ryan, and rolls him toward the stage. It’s only a foot off the main floor, but it’s more than Ryan can navigate, and Joe can’t just push him up. Like magic, Bubba appears on one side. “Lift up that side, Joe.” Both men lift Ryan’s chair to the stage, and Joe joins him. Bubba steps back, and joins us at our table.

“Guys, these are our heroes. Both of them are responsible for taking down the criminal and keeping us all safe. Their cool heads saved us all.” More applause, as Barry raises his hands to quiet the crowd. “So there are a couple or three things we can do to say thanks. First, some of you may have noticed the reserved spots out front for Joe and Ryan, or their partners, to park. I know you’ll do your part to keep those spots open and available for them.” A nice round of applause shows that the crowd will cooperate with that request.

“Secondly, all of us like jewelry and …. “ The crowd starts laughing as Barry reaches into a bag he’s brought up on stage that’s behind him. “We had these made for you to wear for those more formal occasions, so whether it’s for a Mardi Gras Ball or Southern Decadence ….” The crowd starts to laugh, since Decadence is anything but a formal dress event. “ … so that you can be recognized as the exceptional men you are.”

With that, Barry holds up a shiny medallion maybe two inches in diameter. It’s embossed with something, but I can’t read it from here. The medallion is attached to a gay pride ribbon, its stripes running vertically to connect with a shiny metal bar. The effect is that of a military medal.

Barry leans over, pins it to the t-shirt Joe is wearing, then gives him a big hug. He turns, and pins the medal to the Izod-type shirt Ryan is wearing, then leans in to give him an equally emphatic hug.

The crowd is on its feet, yelling, applauding—the noise is deafening. Rex, Bubba, and I are on our feet, too, yelling and clapping.

Joe is standing, rocking nervously on his feet from side to side, trapped in the “fig leaf” pose, with his hands joined in front of his crotch. He glances at the floor, then the crowd, then to Rex, then to Barry.

Ryan is motionless, frozen in place. He’s got a look on his face like the Cowardly Lion from the Wizard of Oz, that “aw, shucks, it ain’t nuthin’” look that’s priceless; his face is beet red with the embarrassment of getting noticed like this. He looks at me for a second and a faint smile appears for a couple of moments.

“The other thing that goes with these medallions is simple enough. As long as I own this bar, Joe and Ryan’s drinks, along with their partners’, are on me. It’s my way of saying ‘thanks’ and ‘I love you’ to these men who’ve come to mean so very much to me and Bubba. Thank you, guys—we’re glad you’re on our team.” And with that, Barry turns and hugs each guy again. “Now, get your drinks refilled—the show will pick back up in five minutes.” And with that, the crowd is cleared to go back and party—but they don’t for at least a few minutes as the standing ovation continues for at least that long.

I look over at Rex—he’s got a look of pride that’s indescribable on his tear-stained face. I’m sure I looked the same. We both just nod and smile a little at each other, both of us overwhelmingly happy to be associated with such outstanding men. Bubba pulls us close into a massive bear hug.

I’ll never forget this.

The crowd patiently waits for their drinks to be refilled and the announcer starts the show a few minutes later.

Four of the five performers have teamed up, all in matching gowns, and they’re doing a carefully edited version of Dreamgirls. The crowd is eating it up with this mini-stage production they’ve got going, but, honestly, I really can’t comment on a lot of it. I’m still on the high of my lover’s recognition and have to admit a lot of it didn’t register. Just an overload of excitement and pride, I guess.

After the show, well-wishers surround our table, congratulating Joe and Ryan. They handle it all well, joking with everyone. Later, as the crowd thins down, Barry comes over and joins us. “Well, guys, I’m glad you were here tonight. You really made it a special evening.”

When Joe and Ryan tried to express their appreciation, Barry just brushed it off. “Hey, the least I could do to say thanks. You just need to know how much you’re loved and appreciated, by all of us, but especially by Bubba and me.”

Closing time came, we all said our goodbyes, with hugs all around. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt more accepted, or more a part of a community than I have tonight.

We head to the house; I get Ryan’s chair out of the trunk, remind him to grab the mail he’d put on the floor of the car’s back seat, and head into the house with him. The smarthome features turn on the lights as it detects our movement into the hall, so at least no fumbling in the dark.

“You want something to drink before we hit the sack, Ryan?” There’s no response, so I turn to look at him.

He’s dropped all of the mail from his lap onto the floor except for one large manila envelope. There’s another mail piece in his hand—a off-white envelope. Ryan’s staring at it, unable to move.

“I got a letter from ….” his voice breaks.