Cody in Wyoming - 4. Chapter 4

“Look at that! There must be 8, 9 inches on the railing. Are you going to be OK driving? You could wait another day, you know.”

“Ally, I should be fine. I’ve got all wheel drive and studded snow tires I bought just for these trips. I’ve got chains, a shovel and sand if I skid off the road and a sleeping bag if something goes wrong. So far, I’ve never had trouble I couldn’t get out of. The most difficult driving will probably be getting to the bottom of the driveway.”

“Alright. If you say so…” She grinned. “I’m glad Keith and I aren’t leaving for another day. I-70 to Limon was closed last night. It’ll be good to give them another day to clear the drifts before heading out. I’d hate to get stuck in the Silhouette. It’s not the best car for the snow.”

Ally gazed out the kitchen window. “I’m going to miss this view. I’m going to miss this house. You know, the kids have spent most of their Christmases here. They’re going to miss this even more than we do. They’re asking where we’ll spend Christmas next year. It’s as if it can’t be Christmas anywhere else.

“Are you alright, Karl?” Ally was in a thoughtful mood.

“Yeah, I’m getting along.”

“Karl, Karl, Karl…” Now she was being histrionic. “This is Ally. Don’t treat me like a stranger. I’m family. Now, how are you?”

“Ally, Ally, Ally, not so hot, hot, hot.” I descended into sarcasm. “As I think you know, I’m having a rough time of it. I’m good when I’m in a relationship. I’m not good at singlehood. You know, I felt certain that Joel would be my last relationship. Now that we’re finished, I still feel like it was my ultimate relationship. I have no interest in finding another relationship, partner, whatever.

“Karl, you’ll do alright. You’re good looking, smart and solid in your career; you’ll find a guy and settle down again.”

“You know, Ally, I don’t know if I will. I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I’m even interested.

“If I hear another, “Ya gotta move on!”, I’ll… I’ll just do something… something bad… something reactionary… something bad! It seems everyone I know compares my situation to when they were dating as kids. It’s that last time they were “on the market”. Kids are different: they’re energetic, they’re experimenting, they’re extroverted, they’re challenging boundaries. I’m none of the above. I’m not a kid. Fer Christ’s sake, I’m 47. I’m middle-aged. I can’t pick myself up, dust myself off and start all over again like I could when I was 20. Dating? Phhttt! It’s jarring… No… it’s wrenching to go out on a first date. Trust me; I’ve tried. I’ve found I have no interest in it. I want to be in an established relationship, not going out on dates. I’m not a teenager; I’m at a place in my life where quiet comfort is more interesting than romantic trysts in candlelit cottages. How’s that for alliteration? But seriously, give me a good book and a partner to snuggle with on an overstuffed sofa! That’s what I want.

“Listen Ally, Joel calling things off broke my faith in people. Worse, it broke my faith in myself. I can’t trust my judgement any longer. I thought Joel and I were really good together. I believed in him and I believed in us. When we moved to Seattle, I decided to prioritize us over my own life, over my career and my friends. I consciously accepted the role of the submissive partner, you know: the old, male, chauvinist, pig view of a wife. Believe me, I spent a lot of time trying to wrap my mind around that choice! Now, I’m living 1,200 miles from my home, my community and my sense of security. I’m living in a city where I don’t know people, don’t have friends and don’t have history. I have a huge need to feel at home, maybe it’s ‘cause I don’t have children like you and Keith – maybe not. You know, you can choose to define your home as a physical place or a community or you can define it as a relationship. I chose the relationship, the individual, the man – Joel. I put a lot of thought into that decision; it wasn’t an easy one. Turns out I chose wrong. I made a bad decision. I blew it.

“And now here we are. I’m whining. You’re sorry you asked how I’m doing. We’re both feeling rotten. I’m sorry to be a downer, Ally.

“I’d better get a move on so I can get out of here and you all can get back to packing.”

Ally tilted her head and squinted at me. She bit her lip thoughtfully. She started to respond, then caught herself and changed the subject.

“Well, are you all packed and ready to go?”

“Yeah, the car and trailer’s packed and I’m ready.” Suddenly, I was tired. I just wanted to go back to bed and rest some more.

Butch wandered into the kitchen and leaned against me as Ally and I turned for a final look out the kitchen window. I patted him on the head.

“Butch is all nervous after seeing me pack. He’s wondering what’s up. You know how dogs get. I’m going to miss this place too, you know.”

Ally put her arm around my shoulder and drew me close. We continued gazing out the window. I scratched Butch behind the ears. The view was special. We looked north across the arroyo that Eldorado Creek had cut in the alluvial fan. At the bottom stood gaunt cottonwoods and willows. Russet twigged shrubs filled the open areas between them. At one spot down by the creek bed, steam rose from a hot spring supporting a touch of green algae in its warm water, the only vibrant color in the entire scene. On the facing ridge was a sparse covering of immature, dark ponderosa pines and blue-gray western junipers. In the fields between, the dried remains of last year’s grasses and wildflowers jutted at odd angles through yesterday’s fresh snow. Winter here was really special, dressed in earthen tones.

My middle brother, Kevin, ambled into the kitchen and pointed at me with a nearly empty tape gun.

“Are you sure you’re leaving today? You could always stay and help pack one more day.” He gave me a sideways grin. Kevin was angling for more help since he had arrived a couple of days late. At the last minute, Beth’s parents hadn’t been able to take their kids and she’d had to stay home and watch them.

“No, I’ve got to get back to the theater. My understudy has been filling in, but I need to be there for the weekend performances. The stage manager wasn’t entirely comfortable with my being gone. She’s been real supportive these past weeks. I just don’t want to piss her off.”

“OK, then… MAMA!” Kevin hollered towards the back of the house.

I have never been comfortable with his yelling.

“I’ll go find her. Ally, can you locate Keith and let him know I’ll be leaving in a few minutes?”

She pulled out her cell and hit speed dial. I heard a ring towards the back of the house.

I found Mom in her bathroom, packing away the extra linens with Keith’s help, though he was chatting with Alison on his cell. I will never get used to the cell phone revolution. Keith and Mom were finishing up a box, so I turned to head back to the kitchen, nearly tripping over Butch, who continued to be underfoot. Packing brings out the insecurity in dogs.

Within five minutes we had all collected in the kitchen. Ally handed me a paper bag and my thermos.

“Karl, I made you a sandwich and there’s hot cider in the thermos.”

I thanked her and we all tromped downstairs to the garage and donned our winter gear before stepping outside. Early that morning, Keith had shoveled a path to and around my car, where we gathered for our final goodbyes. Butch went straight to the back and bounced about, making it clear that he wouldn’t be left behind. I opened the back and he jumped in, turned around and tucked his tail so it was out of the way when I shut the hatch.

I turned to my waiting family and hugged Ally first, then stood facing her with my hands on her shoulders. Her eyes were shiny and filling with unshed tears. She sniffed in the cold. She’s always taken partings hard.

“Take care, Karl. I love you.”

I turned to Keith and hugged him. He patted me on the back as straight guys sometimes do. To me, the gesture diminishes the intimacy of a hug. Of course, that might have been his intention. I turned to Kevin, who gave me a one armed hug and then released me. Finally, I stepped towards Mom. She looked at me with a brave smile and gave me a hug, then tilted her head back and gave me a light, dry kiss. These past few years, it seemed I’d had to lean down further to give her a kiss.

“I love you, Mama. I’ll give you a call when I get home.”

“Drive carefully, Karl. Love you much. Bye!”

I tossed my knapsack and my lunch onto the passenger seat and then climbed in. I started the car, did a clumsy three point turn due to the trailer and then headed slowly down the driveway, enjoying the creaking and crunching sound of the compacting fresh snow under the tires… well, that and the clanking of the trailer hitch on its ball. I hate having an audience when leaving, but I knew my family wouldn’t go inside until I had reached the bottom of the drive and had turned onto the gravel road. I slowed, rolled down the window and gave them a last wave. I caught a glimpse of the four of them waving before they turned and headed back inside.

Before driving down the road, I turned for a last look up the valley at the slabs of red granite that formed a gateway into the folded montane terrain behind. Ponderosa, doug fir and blue spruce capped the soft, orangey-red outcrops. Each tree branch was weighed down by a heavy load of new snow. I turned forward, tuned the radio to the Boulder NPR station and began my long drive home.

Only after turning north onto 93 did I realize I hadn’t phoned Rence before leaving. What with making certain I had all my stuff, making certain all Butch’s food and bedding was packed and making my farewells, Rence’s and my meeting, our “date”, had slipped my mind.

Ugh! I would have to stop and phone from a gas station along the way. I hate fitful starts.

------------- ~ o ~ -------------

The gas gage indicated a quarter tank. I pulled into a station in Longmont. Butch was whining as he usual when he heard the turn indicator and felt the car slowing. My conversation with Ally stuck with me, or my lonely mood stuck with me. I wrestled with the idea of simply skipping the phone call, giving up on meeting Rence, and driving past his gas station. I rationalized: if I didn’t stop at his station, I would never run into him again. Ever. We had not a single common reference point in our lives. On the other hand, there was no risk in stopping and sharing a meal with him. If we didn’t get along, so what? We’d never cross paths again. Ever. Still, the entire question of starting a relationship with him seemed ridiculous. What future could we possibly have?

It took a while to realize that rational thinking had nothing to do with whatever my eventual decision would be. Whether I stopped or not would depend on my emotions not on my reasoning. It was a question of whether I trusted Rence and whether I trusted myself. I couldn’t know whether to trust Rence or not. I didn’t have enough information to make an informed decision. Me, I didn’t trust. After all, I had recently made a mash of my last attempt at a relationship. I had proved myself to be unreliable.

In the end, I decided to throw caution to the wind and give Rence a try. Why not? Nothing to lose, right? Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? Ugh, I hated aphorisms! I collected change from the glove box, walked to the public phone and dialed Rence’s number.

“Hello?”

“Hello? Rence? It’s Karl.”

“Hey, Karl. Late start isn’t it?”

“Nah… I forgot to call before leaving. I’ve been on the road for a while. I’m in Longmont, so it’ll be less than 4 hours. We still on?”

“Oh yeah! Feel like lamb stew? I’ve got one started – family recipe. You’ll like it. You don’t need to be here at any particular time. We’ll eat when you get here. I’m looking forward to this.”

“So am I. I’ll be driving a little slow, given the conditions. I’m towing a trailer too, but I’ll see you before long.”

“OK. Take your time.”

Rence’s voice held such warmth, I was glad I had pushed past my reticence and given him a call. While I didn’t doubt I’d suffer cold feet again, for the moment, I felt great. I felt hopeful.

I returned to the car and slipped a Riders in the Sky CD into the player, then headed back towards the interstate and my coming encounter with Rence. Songs of the old west seemed fitting as I steered my Subaru Conestoga into the west – except I was still headed north on I-25, but why split hairs, eh? Westward Ho!

A couple hours later, I stretched my fingers to relieve the tension. The road conditions had changed for the worse. Not far past Loveland, the road surface changed from dry, clear pavement to wet, rough, compacted snow and cinders. I was given all the more reason to worry after seeing a Honda Civic up to the bottom of its windows deep snow about 100 yards off the road. A couple people stood in snow up to their knees, wondering how to extricate the car. After driving another 25 miles, I realized they must have crawled out of the windows to get out of the car. I got a more serious reminder when I saw an accident in the eastbound lanes just west of Cheyenne. A car was four wheels to the sky, halfway into the median. Its trunk must have burst open as it careened, spewing clothing and personal belongings all over the roadway and the verges. I concentrated all the more on keeping the car on the road.

Concern for my safety drew my attention from my nervous imaginings of a coming fiasco when meeting Rence. Finally, after another two hours without further incidents, I pulled into the front lot of the gas station. Rence’s nephew’s old Ford truck was parked out front. It had chains on the rear wheels. Smart!

The younger version of Rence was ensconced behind the till once again. He looked up when I stepped into the store. His expression was more attentive this time, focused and curious. I wondered if he knew something.

Once again, he shouted towards the ceiling. “Uncle Rence, Karl’s here!”

I was curious as well. I thought Rence was good looking, but his nephew was seriously handsome. “Hello, you know my name, but…”

“Oh, I’m Peio, Uncle Rence’s… um… nephew. My mother’s, like, his… um… little sister.” He ran out of conversation. The boy was nervous. Yeah, it looked like he not only knew who I was but at least some of the reason behind my visit.

There was a clatter from upstairs and then Rence’s voice, “Coming !” Peio was saved from further discomfort by the clump of boots descending the stairs, this time accompanied with the tic-tic of a dog’s toenails. A border collie rounded the corner and dashed to Peio, giving out a sharp bark of excitement. Peio reached down to pet the dog and then Rence appeared, this time with a full, white apron tied at his waist.

Suddenly, I was self conscious greeting Rence in front of his nephew. “Rence… Hey…”

“Karl, come on up. Stew’s simmering. There’s shepherd’s bread and a salad. Wine if you want a glass. Yeah, yeah, you shouldn’t if you’re driving, but one glass can’t hurt. So, come on up.”

“Rence, Butch’s in the car and it’s miserably cold out…” I left the inquiry open.

“Oh, yeah. How ‘bout we let both dogs get acquainted and they can both come upstairs while we eat? Er… how is Butch with other dogs?”

“He’s fine if a little uninterested. If your dog’s not too aggressive or territorial, they should be fine.”

“OK… Aiala, come!”

Rence reached for a denim jacket beside the stair and stepped towards me. He gripped my forearm and said, “It’s really good to see you. I wasn’t sure you’d stop by on your way back.”

We stepped towards the door, Aiala at Rence’s feet. When he opened the door, a strong gust blew snow across the threshold. He held the door and I stepped out into the wind and crossed to the car. After Butch jumped down, he and Aiala immediately greeted each other, sniffing butts. He then ran to the grassy lot with Aiala following. They did the competitive marking thing… he’d mark a clump of grass, she’d follow and do the same, he’d circle round and re-mark the same spot. Soon, Aiala was flirting with Butch, trying to get him to play. She had a particularly sharp bark. Rence and I stood by the car, hands in our pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold gusts and watched the dogs carry on. Finally, after much marking and many attempts by Aiala to entice Butch into doggy games, we called them and headed inside.

As we and the dogs stepped through the door, a car drove up to a pump.

Peio looked up with a unexpected expression.

“Don’t worry Uncle Rence, I got it. You go on upstairs.” No, he wasn’t – couldn’t be – hiding a smirk!

I corralled Butch, who was preparing to race around the store exploring new scents. I glanced back at Rence, who had just given a warning glare at his nephew. There was a definite subtext there.

We followed the dogs up the stairs. At the top, they opened into a bright, comfortable apartment. Butch made a beeline for Aiala’s dog bowl. I ran to scoop it up after commanding him to “leave it”. He then slurped from Aiala’s water bowl before beginning his exploration of the large, open room.

“Sit down, relax. Let Butch explore. There’s no way you can stop him. Welcome to my home away from home.”

“Nice.” I finally had a chance to look around. It was a small space with plenty of light coming through the dormers on both sides of the main axis. There wasn’t much to see actually: a seating area, small office, dining area, small kitchen and a hall towards the back of the room.

“Bathroom’s through there if you need it.” Rence motioned towards the hallway.

I grunted a negative.

“Rest a bit while I get the food on the table.” Rence made random conversation (weather:bad, roads:bad, Denver Broncos:good) while I looked around. DVD cases sat on the coffee table in front of me. Rence seemed to like action movies, though there were a few romantic comedies mixed in. My glance caught when I noticed a case for a movie in which I had played a supporting role. Hmmm. Rence was busy in the kitchen and paying little attention to my visual exploration of his apartment. On the floor under the coffee table were several stacks of magazines. There was “The Shepherd Magazine”. I picked up “Sheep!” and opened it randomly. Not much of general interest there. “Sheep!” magazine didn’t warrant the exclamation point. A neighboring stack had catalogs, mostly for ranch equipment, but with some western style clothing mixed in. A third stack included publications written in a strange language. On closer inspection, there were Spanish and English titles mixed with the unintelligible ones. I saw a lot of the words: Euskara, Vasco and then saw Basque.

“So, you’re Basque! No wonder you’ve got such a strange last name. Oh God! I’m sorry, that was so rude. No wonder you have such a… unique, different, colorful last name. That better? I can’t even remember it right now. How do you say it?”

“Ynzunza.” The way Rence said it, it sounded from perfectly normal, but definitely not Anglo-Saxon.

“’Round here, it’s not such a strange name, nor is it “unique, different or colorful”. Wouldn’t be in northern Spain either, where my family’s from.” I wanted to give myself a dope slap, but he looked up, grinning.

“Now, if you’ll come over, I’ll serve and we can talk about Basque culture, sheep herding and the… uh… movie industry while we enjoy one of my mother’s traditional Basque meals.” He gave me a wink. Jesus! When was the last time someone winked at me? At me! The man was flirting!

“Ma, that man’s making eyes at me!” I called out to a disembodied, generic mother. A cackle rose from the shop below. “Oh my God.” I whispered to Rence, grimacing.

“Can it, Peio!” Rence yelled. “Mind your own business!”

“Then don’t make your business my business!” came from downstairs.

Rence gave a sheepish grin and silently acknowledged Peio’s point with a nod.

“OK, let’s talk about sheep. That was a sheepish grin. What is it about sheep that makes a grin sheepish? Do sheep grin?”

“Well, I have a BS in animal husbandry with an emphasis in ovine care. I don’t think that question ever came up in our many hours of lectures or labs.”

“That was a smirk, Mr. P. Clarence Ynzunza, B.S.”

“Actually, it’s P. Clarence Ynzunza, B.S., M.S., PhD., but you don’t have to call me Dr. Ynzunza. You can call me Rence. My friends do. And, yes, I suppose that was a smirk.”

“Alright Rence. That’s a pretty impressive list of letters after your name. How come they don’t appear on your card?”

“Pompous doesn’t play well here in Wyoming. Well, except for our recent vice president. He’s made a career of it! Maybe that’s why he’s out of a job now.”

The conversation continued in a playful vein for the next hour while we ate the flavorful stew that Rence had prepared. Despite the fun, we got to know one another better.

“That” I pointed at my empty plate, “was superb!” It took a crust and wiped up the last smear of sauce. “Was that one of your sheep?”

“Yeah, though I couldn’t tell you which one. I thought I’d gently introduce you to my mother’s recipes. Next time, it’ll be Txuri-ta-Beltza. You’ll love it!”

“Cherry tables, eh?”

“Txuri-ta-Beltza. It’s core Basque cooking. It’s made from chopped small sheep’s intestine stuffed into a reversed large sheep’s intestine, which is cooked interminably and then served in coagulated sheep’s blood. What’s not to love about it?”

“Yech! I think not! What’s not to love? Well, for starters, there’s the carbon load from interminable cooking.” I was ticking items off on my fingers.

“And then there’s small sheep’s intestines, the large sheep’s intestines (reversed, of course) and, finally, the coagulated sheep’s blood. Sorry, it has too high an ick factor. In fact, it’s close to the top of the scale. A definite 9.8. I’ve eaten deep fried grasshoppers and meal worm - chocolate chips cookies, but I gotta pass on the… Txuri… well, whatever it is!”

“Your loss! Let’s finish with some of our agour cheese and some grapes, then you need to get back on the road.”

We cleared the table and Rence took our dessert over to the sofa. We sat and faced one another.

“Rence, I have no idea what this” I gestured between the two of us, “means. This has been a wonderful meal, and I don’t just mean the food. Which was certifiably wonderful, by the way. I’ve enjoyed our afternoon tremendously, but I can’t imagine where this can go. We seem to have a lot in common in how we behave and how we see the world, but we live a thousand miles from each other and we have nothing in common in terms of our careers or our activities.

“My agent’s got me booked solid till early next year. I don’t expect to be driving through Wyoming again. We’ve got great potential, but I can’t see how we can realize it.”

Rence looked at me somberly, then popped a grape in his mouth and smiled. “You’re right, Karl. I can’t predict how we’ll overcome our scheduling and geographical problems. It’ll probably take a “breach in the time/space continuum” to get us together again. But it’s not inconceivable nor is it impossible. Lets swap contact info and keep in touch. I trust we’ll be able to see one another if we work at it. I’m not suggesting a long distance relationship. Hell, I’m not suggesting a relationship, but I would certainly like to spend more time with you. I enjoy your company. You’re in interesting guy, and you’re not too hard on the eyes either.”

He stood up, took my hands and drew me to my feet. We embraced. It felt good to have his solid bulk in my arms. It felt so good to be enveloped in his strong arms. He smelled good, a bit acrid from sweat, a bit herbal from his cooking, a bit fruity from the grape he just ate. I rested my cheek on his shoulder and felt his beard on my ear and neck. I felt his breathing, his inhalations and exhalations, through my entire torso. Butch came up to us and leaned against our legs. He’s a big dog and his weight pushed us slightly off balance so we scrambled to keep from falling against the sofa. I briefly regretted that we didn’t overbalance and land on the sofa in a tangle of limbs. I briefly regretted that we wouldn’t end the afternoon in one another’s arms, lips locked in a passionate kiss, groins pressed together, our panting breaths warming each other’s face. Once again, I was indulging in a fantasy far too advanced for our degree of intimacy. Yeah, I was feeling seriously lonely and seriously sorry that we were parting. I was feeling seriously needy.

Instead, we loosened our clinch and reached down to pat Butch. Rence sighed and stepped back, then crossed to the refrigerator. He took out two bags.

“I made you a lamb sandwich. Take it with you for later. Here’s a bag of bones for Butch as well. I’ll walk you to your car.”

I gathered my winter gear. Butch and Aiala raced down the stairs. I was ready to follow, but I turned at the top of the stairs, stepped up to Rence, held him in a tight hug and gave him a kiss. It was wonderful, the feel of his soft lips and wiry beard. His lips opened slightly but he didn’t pursue anything passionate. He stepped back and gave me a warm smile. His eyes crinkled with affection and humor.

“I’m glad you stopped by and shared a meal with me.”

“Rence, thanks for everything. You’re a great and worthy guy and I’m sorry if it can’t work out for us.”

“I’m not giving up, Karl. No promises, but I think we can work something out if we’re patient and creative and willing to work on being together. We’ll see.”

Aiala gave her signature sharp bark and we hurried downstairs after the dogs. Peio was still behind the counter. He looked up from his schoolbooks and gave me a sincere smile.

“Bye, Karl. Come back soon.”

“Thanks, Peio. Good luck with your studies.”

Rence, the dogs and I stepped into the cold wind. The sky was greyer and the temperature had dropped since my arrival. After putting Butch in the car, I sat in the driver’s seat. Rence leaned in and gave me a final kiss. His kiss was gentle; his lips were soft and cushioning. His tongue lightly traced my upper lip. He stepped back.

“Drive carefully, Karl. You should still be able to get to Salt Lake tonight. Give me a call when you get home. You’re a great guy.”

With that, he shut the door and slapped to the roof of the car.

I looked at him briefly, my breath fogging the glass. When I turned the key, Gene Autry’s “South of the Border” blared through the speakers. I dropped the volume, put the car in gear and pulled away. With a clank and a shudder the trailer followed the car and we pulled out of the lot. Rence gave me a slow wave and I noticed that Peio did as well from the door of the station, a wide grin spread across his face.

I felt a pang of melancholy, like I was leaving behind the potential for a happy future, the only happy future I could then imagine.