Cody in Wyoming - 6. Chapter 6

Ugh!

Driving once again! I was headed north again on Interstate 25 again, in Colorado again, heading to Wyoming again. Only, this time, I was driving a strange sedan, some small Chrysler byproduct that didn’t seem well suited for the conditions I was certain I’d be encountering in Wyoming. It had plenty of power, but I wasn’t confident it wouldn’t be overpowered in the slick, icy dirt roads in the wilds of Sweetwater County, where I was headed. Or, maybe I was just a car snob and couldn’t handle being in an American machine.

It was mid-afternoon, and I was hungry, having eaten little but airplane peanuts since breakfasting with my mother in Kansas City. The food available at the Interstate off-ramps didn’t entice me. I was willing to wait until I arrived at the Ynzunza Ranch for dinner with Rence. I couldn’t wait to sample more of his farmhouse cooking. I couldn’t wait to see his home and ranch. I couldn’t wait to see the place where he grew up and where he returned after his 20 year sojourn in academia. I couldn’t wait to see him and sample his kisses, for that matter. I was carefully avoiding any thoughts of sleeping arrangements, though like any idea carefully avoided (don’t think of sex… don’t think of sex… don’t think of sex!), I found myself returning to the subject repeatedly during the drive.

In addition to my anticipation, I also harbored worries. When I had called the gas station that morning (as early as I could manage after my late night with Mona and Tony), I hadn’t been able to speak with Rence. Peio had answered the phone. He told me he’d contact Rence and he assured me that Rence would be pleased to have me visit for a few days. Still, I couldn’t retire my concerns since Peio’s assurances were not the same as speaking directly with Rence. I couldn’t ignore my worry that Rence wouldn’t feel imposed upon by an uninvited and unannounced guest. Such was my infatuation or fascination or curiosity that I made the arrangements despite the uncertainty of my welcome.

So, I was on the road again, in that ill-defined state of mind and body, having left my starting point but not yet at my destination. The in-between-ness seemed to reflect my current state of being: having been dumped by the ‘love of my life’ but without a new candidate, having left my home of 25 years and not feeling at home in my new location, having distanced myself from my professional contacts in LA and not yet forged a new network in Seattle. I knew the Zen monks entreat us to attend to the voyage, not the destination, but if a monk had been a passenger right then, I would have told to “voyage this, buddy!” as I put him out on the side of the interstate. I wanted little more than to find a sense of security, certainty and solidity. That want had become a craving after seeing the stolid, four-square confidence of my brother’s family’s lives. I had felt like a Mexican national gazing across the border and envying the prosperous and secure life of el norte. Of course, I didn’t really want to live like my brothers, but their grass sure did look green from my current vantage point! I wanted nothing more than to “arrive” somewhere, anywhere but my current state of alienation. Alien indeed! I felt like a dilettante in a nation of laborer drones, a single man in a nation of nuclear families, an undocumented, gay alien in a heterosexual nation.

Or, perhaps I was simply sleep deprived.

I refocused on the road, noting absently the spot where I had seen a Honda Civic that had plowed into the deep powder at the side of the interstate when I last passed through. I then thought back to the morning’s phone call, the phone call when I failed to reach Rence. when Peio had picked up instead. I was sorry to have missed Rence, his voice, his affection, his calmness. And I was relieved that Peio remembered me and that he seemed more talkative than our previous conversations.

“No, Uncle Rence isn’t here. He’s at the ranch, well, his ranch for a few weeks.

“No, you can’t reach him right now. He’s out of cell range when he’s out with the flock.

“You’re coming out? Sweet! Come on out! Uncle Rence’d love to see you. You know what? You can meet the entire family. My sis’s coming home for the weekend, so we’re all getting together. I know Uncle Rence would totally love to see you and everyone’s been wanting to meet you. We’ll be taking a lamb out of storage and doing the whole roast lamb thing. It’s an awesome meal, plenty of good eats, plenty of good folks too (well, mostly family, but we’re good folk!).

“Well, not everyone. I didn’t tell everyone. But it’s kinda exciting to have a movie star visiting!

“OK, OK, so you’re not a star. Still, this isn’t Jackson Hole. We don’t have people who are ‘in the movies’ here, ever!

“OK, alright, I’ll keep it on the lowdown.

“Yeah, I’m sure Uncle Rence’ll be cool with you visiting. Don’t stress! He’ll be fine!

“So, you really are in the movies! Like do you know Scarlett Johannsen or Lindsey Lohan? Do you know Bruce Willis? What about Tom Cruise? ‘Cause Rick, he’s my friend, he says he’s, like, totally gay but he can’t come out ‘cause it’d be, like, professional suicide, ‘cause all the cougars and chicks and all would, like, shit if he was queer ‘n all. Shit! I didn’t mean like it’s wrong or anything. I mean, you know, Uncle Rence’s queer ‘n all. Well, I guess you do know!...”

It was kind of fun listening to Peio digging himself out of the hole his rambling teen-speak had dug him into. I didn’t get any homophobe vibe off the guy, just plenty of naïveté. I tried to steer the conversation back to the subject: my visit. Peio continued rambling.

“Listen, stop here at the station and we’ll give you directions for getting back to the “Y” ranch. It’s a piece a cake!

“I’ll get word to Uncle Rence so’s he’ll be ready for your visit. It’ll be way cool! He’ll be stoked! Maybe you can surprise him! Nah, bad idea.”

After twenty or more minutes, we rung off. In our conversation, he’d behaved completely differently from the diffident kid I’d met on my two previous stops. I found I was looking forward to the visit. That was, until I realized that: A) Rence wouldn’t have the chance to head me off if he didn’t want me to visit, B) I would be meeting the entire family, C) I was going to be on the spot as Rence’s… what?… friend? boyfriend? romantic interest? fuck buddy? potential life partner?

Still, ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’, like they say. I had invested much more than a penny on this trip to see Rence. I was going to enjoy it! I was! I kept working to convince myself the visit would work out fine when I turned off I-25 and headed west on I-80. As the interstate ascended higher onto the Wyoming plateau, I watched the sun disappear into the blowing snow that seemed a permanent part of the local winter weather. In today’s sunlight, it glistened as it smothered the view when it swirled over the roadway. It formed a beautiful, deadly fog of iridescent ice crystals which then settled or swirled away or simply disappeared. Driving took most of my attention as, by turns, the vista was clear and then obscured while hurtling along at 65 miles an hour.

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

My neck was stiff as I pulled off at my favorite exit on the Wyoming stretch of I-80. A couple trucks were pulled up to the pumps as I skidded into the lot. Peio’s old beater was parked on the sunny side of the building.

After leaving the warm cocoon of my rental, I was caught momentarily in a funnel cloud of ice crystals. My cheeks, nose and forehead tingled in the instant before the crystals melted from the heat of my exposed skin. The gust disappeared in an instant without slowing my approach to the door of the station. I teased myself with the hope that Rence had been able to get away and would be waiting to meet me at the front counter, but there was only Peio and a couple of his friends, kids around his age.

I was immediately assaulted, first by a border collie I hadn’t yet met and then by Peio’s friends. In the hubbub, I was able to decipher only bits of sentences from the youths.

“You’re really Karl Ackermann?” “You’re a movie star?” “Mr. Ackermann, can I have your autograph?” “Here, sign my DVD!” “You really know Peio?” “What’s Hollywood like?”

The last one got my attention because it required more than a monosyllabic response. Peio shoved a short stack of DVDs into my hands when I stood up after squatting to scratch the dog behind the ears. The DVDs looked like they came from the rental shelves at the back of the store.

“Whoa! Whoa, slow down! Time out! Umm, Peio, you kind of outdid yourself, here. Give me a moment to settle and then we can talk and I can sign whatever you want. Peio, I’ll be right out.” I headed for the bathroom for a quick pee and a moment of quiet.

“OK, now… let’s get introduced.”

I took on my “meeting the public” persona, complete with my “so pleased to meet you” smile. In truth, I was kind of ticked that Peio was using our acquaintance for his personal benefit, especially when I wanted nothing more than to get the directions and hightail it to Rence’s ranch. Still, it was part of the job…

“Rick, Johanna, pleased to meet you. I’m just here for a few minutes, just to get directions to Peio’s Uncle’s ranch. So, let me sign your DVD’s and then I’ll be heading out.”

After the requisite quarter hour of banter stretched to a half hour, I sat down with Rence’s nephew and he drew out a simple map and wrote out me directions. He confided that he hadn’t yet reached Rence, but had left a message about my arrival with the ranch foreman’s wife. With map and directions in hand, we trouped into the twilight and headed to my rental car under the glare of the overhead lights, the border collie weaving detailed patterns between four sets of moving legs.

When we arrived at the car, Peio and his friends exchanged worried glances. Peio addressed me.

“Umm, Karl, that car’s not gonna get to my uncle’s ranch. Maybe your Subaru would, but the road’s too rough and the snow’s too deep up there. It’s nearly an hour’s drive and I wouldn’t trust that little thing to get you there safely, especially this late.”

Oh shit! Oh fuck! I was losing patience with this group of pushy kids, with the time lost signing autographs and “pressing the flesh”, and with the whole tenuous, improbable nature of this wild goose chase into Wyoming’s hinterlands. I took a moment (I had long since learned to count to 10 or even 20) and exhaled, my breath clouding before being shredded by the wind.

“Well, Peio, what would you suggest? I’ve come a long way to spend some time with your uncle and I really don’t want to drive back to Denver now!” I wasn’t completely able to keep annoyance out of my voice.

“I swear, we’ll get you there! We’ll make it happen. Umm… Mrs. Rodriguez, that’s the foreman’s wife, she can come pick you up in the F250. Or better yet, my sis’s around for a couple days; she can take you out to Uncle Rence’s. I would, but I’ve gotta cover here. It won’t take long. I’ll go call her.” His voice rose in inflection, implying a question, searching for my approval.

“Yeah, that sounds alright, if you think it’s for the best.” The lack of sleep, the flight, the lack of food, the long drive, the waste of time with Peio’s friends, the unexpected wrench in the works because of the stupid car… suddenly I was tired and cranky. “Let’s get out of the cold. I need coffee. Anyone want coffee?”

By the time I had poured coffees from the carafe at the back of the store, Peio had spoken with his sister who had volunteered their older brother since she had just arrived at their home. She took his chores, so he could get away and drive me to Rence’s, then stay the night before returning the following morning. That was the plan. He had promised to pick me up in 45 minutes and then we would start the hour’s drive to the Ynzunza ranch. It was all too convoluted for me. I didn’t really care. I just wanted this impossible day to be over and to sit down on a sofa with Rence and not even talk with him, but just sit and be quiet and enjoy some companionship with a solid, stolid, middle aged guy like Rence.

I collapsed into one of the chairs beside the wood stove.

“Listen kids, I’m sorry. It’s been a long day, I’m famished and I’m drained and I’ve been kind of a shit. I just need some time to relax until I leave for the ranch.”

The kids looked chastened. They were subdued, especially when compared to their manic energy when I arrived earlier in the afternoon. Peio approached me and apologized.

“Karl, I kinda blew it. We kinda blew it. You got here and we were all, like… BLAT!... in your face. We didn’t really check in with you first. Thanks for putting up with us. Thanks for hanging out with us. It means a whole lot, especially to Johanna. She, like, wants ta be an actress ‘n all, and meeting you and hanging with you means, well, like I said, it means a whole lot.

“Why don’t you head upstairs. Check the fridge, make a PBJ or something and relax. You can watch TV or just chill until Alain gets here. We’ll stay out of your way.”

“Peio, thanks for understanding. I’ll grab my stuff from the car and then go up and nap on the couch. You can come let me know when your brother gets here.”

So, we all trouped outside again and collected my suitcase and carryon from the car. It had changed to night and without the sun, the temperature had dropped dramatically. I was relieved not to be driving in the cold and dark, alone on strange roads. As soon as we stepped back inside, the dog slogged over to the stove and circled a few times before collapsing into a heap to warm up and dry off. I left my luggage behind the counter and headed for the stair and the quiet of the station’s apartment. When I reached the top, before I stepped into the unlit room, I heard a familiar melody coming from a DVD. From the intro music, I could tell it was one of my early movies from back when I was their age, a thriller in which I had played the guy who got killed before half the movie had elapsed, the best friend of the male lead. Not one of my best roles, as I remembered. I couldn’t help reflect on the difference between my late teen years acting in SoCal and theirs in rural Wyoming. Whatever… at least they didn’t have to feign nonchalance while being slighted by reviewers. They’d enjoy the movie, most likely.

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

Alain and I were bouncing along a rough, snowy road, the wind buffeting the Wrangler and blowing cold through the canvas roof. An Australian shepherd kept nudging my shoulder, angling for attention or treats. My companion, however, was silent, as he had been since we began the drive. I couldn’t tell if he was surly because he had to be out on such a night or if he was, by nature, a retiring guy. What I had initially taken for a fat lip turned out to be a plug of tobacco that he renewed occasionally. Each time he spit, he opened his plastic window before he let fly. I suppose it wouldn’t have worked at highway speeds, but as slow as we were going the brown spittle didn’t blow back into the interior. Each time he opened the window let in a gust of cold air, however, which the heater barely mitigated. My left arm was not uncomfortable, but my right arm was freezing against the passenger door. My butt was getting sore from sitting so much that day, first on the airplane, then in the rental. Now it was being battered by the rough ride in the Jeep. Alain would occasionally reach to his dog to scratch her behind the ears which elicited a groan of pleasure from deep in her throat. The sole pleasant aspect of the trip was the traditional Basque music that Alain was playing on the stereo. It’s cheer and energy contrasted with the squeaking of the seats, the banging of the suspension, the roar of the engine, the whine of the gearbox and the whistling of the wind. Jeeps are not quiet vehicles.

I thought back to the brief phone call from Rence just before Alain had driven up. Rence

had sounded exhausted.

“Karl, thanks for taking the chance and getting yourself out here. Total surprise – well, shock, really. This is the furthest thing from… well, I would never have expected your visit. I’m glad you took the chance. You’re arriving late… will you need to eat still? I’ve got some mac‘n cheese from yesterday. Wadya say?”

“Your mac‘n cheese sounds great, Rence, but you’ve got to tell me if this is a bad idea. I’m sorry I couldn’t confirm with you before I got here, but Peio told me you’d be happy to see me. Is this alright with you?”

“Don’t worry. It’s fine… just fine. I’m glad you’ll be here. You gotta know, though, it’s nearly lambing season and we’ve got a lot to deal with, what with the pregnant ewes and all. There are a few I’m worried about, so we’re keeping a close eye on ‘em. I’ll stay up so we can talk tonight, but I’ve gotta be up early tomorrow to set things up so Manny can run the show so I can take time to show you ‘round the ranch. Manny’s the foreman. You’ll meet him. And did Peio tell you about the dinner we’re having tomorrow at the CSR? My niece is here for the weekend, so we’re all getting together. You’ll get to meet the family. They’ll like you.”

“You know, Rence, that’s kind of scary. It’s not the time to introduce me to the family. That kind of passes over all the questions about who and what we are to one another. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover before we ought to be introduced as a couple or even as, well, boyfriends or whatever. I mean, they’re going to be making all sorts of assumptions, unsupported assumptions, about us. I’m not comfortable with that.”

“Listen, I’ll just introduce you as an acquaintance. How ‘bout I mention your acting? It’ll be a smoke screen… to distract them, you know? Then they won’t be interviewing you as a possible family member, they’ll just pull you aside for some juicy movie gossip. Hey, maybe you’re researching for a role in an upcoming movie? Would that work?”

“Oh shit… I hate playing that role: ‘Hollywood star visiting the boondocks and playing to swooning fans’.”

“Uhh… Karl, my family aren’t swooners.”

“Tell that to Peio!”

“What! Did that twirp get all goofy on you?”

“No! Well, yes, but it wasn’t as bad as that. I’ll tell you later. And ‘swooning fans’ isn’t the worst option. What about ‘Hollywood Svengali takes advantage of lonely rancher’? Or ‘single rancher introduces nubile fiancé? I suppose the role of ‘object of swooning fans’ would be better than ‘nubile fiancé’. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover before I meet the family as your intended. And I can’t claim to be nubile, now, can I?”

Just then, I heard someone coming up the stairs and then Peio stuck his head through the door.

“Alain’s here. He’s ready to go. I’ll put your bags in the back.”

“Hold on, Rence… Yeah, Peio, I’m nearly ready… Thanks! Rence, Alain just got here. I gotta go. Soon, I’ll see you soon… real soon. I can’t wait to see you!”

“Yeah, me too… listen, Karl, I’ll make time for us tomorrow and we can explore some of that ground we need to cover while we’re exploring the ranch. And I’ll have the mac’n cheese heated when you get here. See you then. Bye”

The conversation had been brief and, to be honest, a bit of a disappointment. It felt like I was dragging him along, like I was the only one putting energy into the exchange. He sounded distracted, but, mostly, tired. I suppose it shouldn’t have surprised me, his having just spent a long day working on a ranch, but I had imagined that my visit would be more relaxed or even romantic. Now, I worried that I was imposing myself on him or that his tepid responses expressed tepid feelings. This trip was changing the dynamic of our interaction (I wasn’t ready to call it a relationship). Previously, we had met by chance when I was just passing through. Now, though, I had made an unscheduled detour at some expense with the express purpose of spending time with Rence. Maybe he felt he’d been put on the spot, cornered by an overenthusiastic suitor with unrealistic expectations… Well, I told myself, if the purpose of the visit was to explore the territory and test the possibility of a real relationship between the two of us, that was exactly what we would be doing. I reminded myself I had to be open to any outcome, whether it led us towards or away from intimacy. Still, I couldn’t ignore my discomfort and trepidation. The fact that, so far, the trip hadn’t working out smoothly didn’t add to my confidence.

I castigated myself that my expectations were out of line with the predictable reality of paying a visit to a working guy. Perhaps I hadn’t taken his work situation into consideration. Perhaps I was unrealistic in my expectations. But mostly, I was completely ignorant of what ranch work entailed. Who knew it was nearly lambing season? Well, I suppose lots of people in Wyoming knew, but I suspect few in the acting profession could tell you when lambing season began or ended. All they knew was when lamb was available at their favorite nouveau cuisine restaurants.

Just then, the Wrangler lurched violently, throwing the Aussie against my shoulder. She pawed at me to get balance just as a metallic crash resounded from the back of the rig. Alain seemed unperturbed by the racket, but he did slow and stop in the middle of the road. Leaving the car running but without a word, he stepped outside, spit out his chaw and walked to the back of the Jeep. The dog slipped between the seats, sat behind the wheel and peered out the open door, her breath fogging in the cold air. I looked straight ahead, over the dashboard. The headlights illuminated the uneven, dirty snow that defined the road, which was bordered by darkness populated with darker, bulky shadows hinting at trees and above, an occasional star peeking through the scudding clouds. No lights, no sign of civilization or human habitation. Nothing at all, from my point of view. I shivered, not from the cold but from the thought of the three of us stranded, trying to find shelter in this frozen, snow covered wasteland. I turned when I heard sounds of a mechanical sort coming from the back of the car. After a moment, I heard the sound of something fitting into place with a solid clunk and then Alain reappeared at the driver’s side, shooed his dog from the seat and climbed in. He pinched more tobacco from his can, stuffed it behind his lower lip and shot me a short grin.

“Spare’s loose.”

He then put the Jeep in gear and we started moving again.

“Just a couple miles now. Be there in 10.”

He then resumed his silence.

A few minutes had passed when I heard (and felt) us crossing a cattle guard. I thought we were nearly there, that I would soon be able to warm up and sit still in Rence’s company. Wrong! When pale dog dashed in front of the Jeep, Alain slammed on the brakes and the car skidded to a halt. In an instant he’d grabbed a rifle and spotlight I hadn’t even known were there from behind his seat. He jumped out of the car and swung the light in a slow arc, illuminating the snowy landscape. When he saw glowing eyes in the low scrub, he brought the rifle to his shoulder and squeezed off a shot. After the explosive blast, I heard an eerie wail, an otherworldly ululation that sent shivers up my spine. He fired again and when the reverberations settled, all I heard was the wind. I was startled – no – I was shocked; it all happened so suddenly. He continued to pan the searchlight from right to left, but we saw no other glowing eyes reflecting the light. I thought he’d climb back into the Jeep, but he shouldered the rifle and he and his dog left the car and walked out into the scrub, searching for the dead dog, I suppose. As my senses returned to me, I realized it must have been a coyote, not a dog, that he’d killed. I gauged his progress by the path of the light as it passed over the scrub and stubby trees. Ten minutes later, I heard another shot and within minutes, Alain and his dog reappeared, him dragging the carcass of a large coyote. He lashed the body on top of the spare tire (the one that was loose) and he and the dog clambered back into the vehicle.

“Can’t leave the carcass. It’d attract more of ‘em.”

We resumed our trip in silence. The entire episode left me jittery and uncomfortable sitting beside this silent, moody and lethal young man. Just a few minutes later, we saw lights through the trees and soon thereafter, we pulled behind a 1960’s ranch house backed by outbuildings stretching back further to a large barn and another, much older, house.

Rence stepped out the back door of the nearest house followed closely by Aiala, his border collie. Suddenly, the sighing of the wind in the trees was punctuated by the yaps of the dogs and by the various salutations and introductory comments between us humans. In the commotion, Alain slapped his chest and saw Aiala jump straight into his arms. She gave his face a lick which brought a broad smile to his face. He went from homely to handsome in seconds, a transformation which pleased but confused me even more. Rence slapped my back and then gave me a warm hug, which allayed some of my worries about my welcome. When he called Alain’s dog, “Molara, come here!”, she wiggled so much her hind end left the ground. She was doing 360’s in the snow while yapping in excitement. She couldn’t stay still long enough for Rence to even pet her.

After Rence kissed Alain on each cheek, he grabbed my suitcase, put his other arm around my shoulders and led me to the service porch. After peeling out of our winter gear, we followed him to the kitchen table where a plate of bread, sliced cheese and sausage was paired with a plate of crudités and dip. While Rence poured a red wine, he and Alain exchanged news about the condition of the two ranches and their flocks. Alain mentioned shooting the coyote after we had crossed cattle guard. It turned out that Alain, though shy, could be expansive when talking about their ranch lives: their homes, their family and their sheep. He even included me with a shy smile on occasion, though I had nothing to add in the conversation. Observing the two of them, I was struck by Alain’s transformation into a personable young man, while, at the same time, I was startled at Rence’s quiet. He looked drawn. We noshed for a bit, and then Alain stood and retrieved the casserole from the oven. He spooned the mac‘n cheese onto our plates. Rich and smooth, bordered with crispy, pan-browned edges, it looked and smelled like cooked comfort. After Alain rejoined us, Rence turned the conversation my way.

“So, Karl, you said that Peio behaved like a twit when you arrived at the station this afternoon.”

“Well, no, actually you said he behaved like a twirp, not a twit and I said he didn’t. He and a couple friends were just a little over-enthusiastic. They had a handful of DVDs for me to autograph and a whole lot of questions for me to answer. I suspect that any DVD in your rental collection that I even sneezed in has my signature on it now! No, it really wasn’t so bad. I was just tired after my flight and the drive from Denver and they kind of held me hostage until they were satisfied with my responses. I’ve been through much worse. And when it was over, Peio apologized for putting me on the spot. It’s alright. It’s done.”

While I was talking, Alain was stealing looks at me. He appeared awed by this aspect of my life. When I caught him, he dropped his gaze to his nearly empty plate and a blush rose from his chest to his cheeks. It was really quite cute, though he would probably not agree.

Rence saw me glance at Alain and misinterpreted it.

“Alain, you’ve got to get up early to get home tomorrow. You should finish eating. You’re sleeping on the sofa in the office tonight. There some trays of pintxos and a pot of porrusalda in the fridge. Don’t forget to take them if I don’t see you before you leave. Is there anything else I should bring for dinner tomorrow?”

“Osaba, you should check with Mama. She’ll know.” He stood and took his dishes to the sink. “I’ll shower and then see you in the morning.” He gave Rence a kiss on each cheek, gave me a nod and a “G’night” and turned right down the hall, towards the bedrooms. Molara followed at his heels.

Rence turned to me. “I’ve put you in the guest room. I didn’t know where you wanted to sleep, but, especially after our call this afternoon, it seemed better to sleep separately so we could talk about us before we, well, before we did anything.” A half smile creased his left cheek.

“That sounds fine, Rence. I know we’re both tired, but before we turn in, can we just sit together for a little while? I could really use someone’s body next to mine. I’m sorry, that sounds so impersonal. That’s not how I meant it. I know we don’t know one another well, but what I know of you right now, this moment… I know you’re a decent guy. I’m sure that we can at least sit together and hold one another without pushing ourselves too fast. How about it? You game?” Now, I was the one with the half smile.

“Sure” He stood and reached a hand to me. “This way.”

Rence surprised me by not letting go of my hand as he led me to the couch in the living room.

“Sit here. I’ll just get the lights.”

After turning a couple lights down low, he silently joined me at the couch. He let out an “oomph!” as he sat. Aiala settled at our feet. Without speaking, he leaned against me and put his head on my shoulder. I took his hand in mine and we sat, staring at the flames in the wood stove, silent and companionable. This was exactly what I had hoped for earlier in the afternoon. I looked down to Rence’s bearded face. From my angle, I couldn’t see much: the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows, the stubble on the tops of his cheeks, the thinning hair on top of his head, his graying beard. I could see his eyes were closed as well. Before long, the breaths I felt against my neck had softened and his mouth appeared to have drooped open. I felt the brief spasms as his overworked muscles relaxed. To think, 24 hours before, I had been attending a noisy opening night party and deflecting the advances of a very attractive young actor intent on bedding me for the night. I had struggled with my libido but was glad now that I hadn’t acceded to the desire for quick intimacy. This, sitting in a quiet house, the wind in the pines and the creak of the cooling stove forming a background to the familiar sound of the regular breathing and occasional snorts coming from a kind, reliable and desirable man – this provided the satisfaction I craved.

pintxos – Basque tapas

porrusalda – leek, potato and cod soup

osaba – uncle