The Day his Motor Died - 2. Chapter 2

Doug popped two frozen dinners into the microwave, and Michael helped him set the table. When everything was ready, they sat down to dinner.

“It’s not gourmet,” Doug apologized, “but it’s the best I can do.”

“Please don’t apologize,” Michael insisted. “I’m just so grateful for your hospitality, I can’t thank you enough.”

“No thanks are necessary. It gets very lonely out here, and I appreciate your company.”

“After dinner,” Doug said. “we’ll clean up, and then let’s tell each other what two New Yorkers are doing in this near wilderness.”

“Sure. Until now I hadn’t wished to talk about it, but somehow, I feel the need to unburden, and you’re the perfect one to talk to. I feel like we’re old friends already.”

They didn’t eat in silence. Doug had not been to New York for several years, and he kept inquiring about what was happening in The Big Apple, and what life was like there these days, post the millennium. They both had a few good laughs. The only sober moment came when Michael asked if there was a hotel in the village where he could stay.

“Why are you asking?” Doug inquired.

“I’m an amateur auto mechanic. I can tell you that my transmission can’t be repaired. It needs to be replaced, and I could be stuck here for several days.”

“Please consider staying with me in my spare bedroom,” Doug pleaded. “I’m so freaking lonely.”

“I don’t want to impose.”

“I promise you, you’re not imposing.”

After they cleaned up the kitchen, they went into the living room. Doug kicked off his loafers. “Get comfortable,” he advised Michael, so the guest took off his sneakers. He wasn’t wearing socks. They sat down quite close to each other on the sofa. A couple of times their knees bumped together. Michael knew that he should be uncomfortable, but he didn’t feel that way at all.

“Okay, Mike,” Doug said, “let me hear all about it.”

Michael hated to be called Mike, but he didn’t wish to correct the man who was being so generous to him.”

“It all began a few days ago…” Michael began. He told Doug about his idyllic life, about his parents’ split, about losing his best client, and about being dumped by his girlfriend. He even told Doug that she said he made love like a virgin school boy. He held nothing back and told him about his decision to take a sabbatical and seek seclusion, which he hoped would help end his funk.

“I chose Wyoming because of its sparse population,” Michael said, wrapping up his narrative.

Neither man was aware of it, but while Michael was relating his tale of woe, Doug had taken his hand.

During the entire recital, Michael had maintained his composure. Frankly, Doug was surprised at that. He expected that Michael might want to shed a tear or two.

Michael took a deep breath. “Okay Buddy,” he said. “It’s your turn.”

Doug dove right in. “I was six months away from graduation from NYU, when I celebrated my twenty-first birthday. I went to a bar with some buddies. Some drunk, middle-aged, very obese guy kept bothering us. Don’t ask me why, but I suspected he was trying to start a fight. He kept calling us, ‘fucking college boys.’

“He put his hands on one of my friends. I pulled him off and shoved him away. Let me cut to the chase. He hit his head on the bar railing, and went to meet Jesus.

“I was exonerated by the police, but I couldn’t forgive myself for having murdered a drunk old man. I quit school, and bought this wheat farm to get as far away from New York as possible. Like you, I wanted as much solitude as I could get. My dad lent me the down payment, but I’m heavily mortgaged.”

They were still holding hands.

The room became very quiet. Finally, Michael said, “We’re a sorry pair, aren’t we?”

“Let’s make up your bed,” Doug said to change the subject. “You can stay up as late as you want, but I’ve gotten into the habit of early to bed, early to rise.”

“This has been a rough day for me. I think I’d like to turn in also.”

“Do you shower at night or in the morning?” Doug asked.

Michael laughed. “I always shower in the morning unless I’m going to have sex in the evening. Then I shower twice, before and after.”

It was Doug’s turn to laugh. They made up the guest bed together, and Doug gave Michael towels and wash cloths.

“I only have one bathroom,” Doug informed Michael. “There’s not much to do in the fields now until the harvest, but I’m used to getting up at the crack of dawn. I’ll probably be up and showered when you wake up, so we won’t get in each other’s way.”

As Doug turned to leave the guest bedroom, Michael said, “Doug, you’re being better to me than any of my friends back home. Thanks.”

Doug left the room silently.

Michael couldn’t sleep at all. The bed was comfortable enough, but the absolute quiet of the place kept him awake. He was used to hearing blaring horns outside his window. Even in the motels along the way, he had been greeted by the sounds of beeping horns. He decided to get out of bed about one in the morning. He needed to pee and he wanted a glass of water. All he was wearing were his boxer shorts.

The bathroom was between the two bedrooms. Doug’s door was open, and Michael heard strange noises. At first, he thought that Doug might be whacking off, so he decided to pee, skip the water, and get back into bed. On second thought, he decided that the noise was not the sound of jerking off. Doug was crying.

Michael rushed into Doug’s bedroom. His benefactor was in a fetal position, crying like a baby. He was also very naked. Instinct made him put his arms around the sobbing man.

“Don’t cry,” Michael pleaded. “It can’t be that bad, and whatever it is, let me help you.”

Still sobbing, Doug got out of bed and grabbed his robe off a chair. He turned on the light in his room, and said, “Let’s talk.”

“You talk. I’ll listen.”

“I need to tell you something,” Doug began. “I can tell you because you can’t run away until Emanuel gets here.”

“I’m not running away. I want to help you.”

“You know that story I told you about the brawl in the bar? I only told you half the truth. I’m gay, Mike. We were in a gay bar. The fat slob was coming on to us sexually, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Shit, Doug. I’m from New York. I know plenty of gay people. You could have told me. I can accept it, but why are you crying?”

“I couldn’t tell you. The minute I saw you in my doorway, I fell madly in love with you. I know you’re straight, and I held it all in. Knowing you were in the next room, was too much for me to bear, and I started to cry. Then you hugged me while I was naked. WOW!”

“Take off your robe and get back in bed.”

“What?”

“You heard me. If you sleep in my arms tonight, I’ll be able to soothe your tortured soul, but no hanky panky.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. What are you talking about?”

“Let’s get some sleep. I’ll tell you in the morning."