Cody in Wyoming - 9. Chapter 9

It was as I was settling into the guestroom at my friend, Gary’s, house that I realized that I was lost. Only then did I realize that I was crushing on Rence. My first thought following the realization was, ‘I’m far too old to be feeling all warm and squishy!’ My second was, ‘This feels good!’

 

I had been unpacking my suitcases, putting things away in my home away from home in LA. Butch had been underfoot as I crossed between the bed (my suitcases) and the dresser or closet. Only when I put my travel alarm next the bed did I realize that I didn’t have a photo of Rence to put on my bedside table. In fact, I had no memento at all of our times together or of our affection. I sat on the bed and wished I had something to hug to myself, something that would stand in for him, something physical to press against my chest.

 

I had tried to keep from doing this, from feeling this way. I had tried to stay rational, to accept the improbability of the two of us forging anything beyond the acknowledgement that we liked one another and found one another attractive. Practically speaking, anything more seemed illogical and starry-eyed. But, here I was, seeing the world through my rosy glasses, feeling giddy and warmed by the thought of Rence sitting at the table, eating lamb stew in his ranch kitchen.

 

‘I’m an adult,’ I told myself. ‘I’m far too mature to feel so googley-eyed.’

 

Too bad I wasn’t listening to myself.

 

Whatever I told myself made no difference. I was consumed with fondness for Rence and I was feeling his absence in the worst way. My considered, rational, adult self flew in the face of the hormones that coursed through my body and mind. Who knew that I could still feel such a way? At least, this time ‘round, I knew the feelings were sired by hormones that were skewing my perspective. Memories of my first, teenage crushes flashed embarrassingly in my mind’s eye: the blushes, the spontaneous erections, the humiliation of poorly timed zits. Despite the flush of longing, I knew that the world would not end if I couldn’t arrange to be grafted onto Rence’s flank in the following three days.

 

“Come on, Butch. Time for a walk.”

 

Butch had just settled at my feet while I had been sitting on the bed thinking fondly of Rence. No matter, he jumped at the sound of the word ‘walk’ and led me to the front door where he faced me with that happy, pleading look dogs have: ears cocked forward, mouth open, eyebrows raised. I slipped the prong collar over his head and we stepped into SoCal’s gloriously sunny (if monotonous) weather. At least the air was moderately clear. I could see Griffith Park beyond the sentry line of the towering but scrawny palms as I turned up the street.

 

I had left Wyoming and the dead of winter just the week before and I was enjoying the fresh temperatures and bright and warming light of the California sun. It was great to be back. I glanced around as Butch and I strolled up the street, past the white painted, tile roofed bungalows of Los Feliz. I couldn’t help chuckle thinking of the LA pronunciation, more like ‘feelies’ as in ‘touchy feely’ than the Spanish for ‘happy’. I was back, surrounded by palm trees, St Augustine grass lawns, jade plant hedges, camellias (currently in full bloom) and giant philodendrons. I was back and I was pining for Rence in that brass-balls-cold, blustery, empty-but-for-sage wasteland of Wyoming. It made no sense at all.

 

So, I pulled out my iPhone (I had caved when I arrived in LA. I even had one of those silly looking earpieces that made you look like you had dropped out of some Star Trek franchise installment… either that or like a fashion victim. I had noticed them all over LA in the past few days… mine made me look ‘normal’ in this otherworldly land, or so I hoped) and called Rence while Butch and I continued our power walk. Hell, I could look like any village idiot, talking to myself while out in public, just like other Angelinos.

 

He didn’t pick up, so I left a message: “Butch and I are walking down Finley Avenue and I’m thinking of you and feeling all squidgey and thought you might want to know that this is what I’ve been reduced to since I left you. Just thought you should know. I lo… I’ll call you tonight.”

 

Butch and I continued our walk. I enjoyed the vitality and dynamism while he enjoyed all the scents left by other dogs. Even the constant drumming rumble and roar of traffic and airplanes didn’t diminish my enjoyment of my corner of the crowded LA basin. I had missed the quiet of Wyoming the previous night when I had retired in the strange bedroom after I had arrived late due to the permanently congested traffic of LA freeways. ‘Freeway’, not ‘interstate’. Even the word implied the open-armed generosity of the California dream… they were ‘free’ after all... it said so in their name! Now, the frenetic pace seemed fitting, energetic, productive, even normal here in sunny SoCal.

 

When we arrived ‘home’ (at Gary’s), I took a quick shower to wash off the sweat from our fast walk (Butch won’t/can’t walk at any other pace) and changed into a t-shirt, shorts and sandals. I was just beginning to adjust from my Seattle mindset of keeping the weather at bay with Gore-tex and duck boots. I spent the remainder of the afternoon on the phone arranging my schedule for the coming days and weeks. I was back not only to enjoy ‘home’ but to work, specifically: meeting my agent and my accountant; arranging for sessions with a voice coach; meeting with the director for the ads in which I would be doing voice-overs; meeting with the producers and the director of the TV pilot I had a part in. And then there were the social contacts to maintain. I had a list of people to notify of my return to town.

 

The twilight had begun by the time I was done. All the talking and arranging had exhausted me, so I got on the phone once again and ordered Punjabi for dinner. God, I loved LA, where else can you order Punjabi food – not Indian, not Pakistani, but Punjabi? Well, OK, in New York and in the Punjab, but where in the US that’s in a decent climate? It was great to be back!

 

Gary would be arriving home in the next quarter hour, so I set the table and then walked three blocks to pick up our dinner. I was feeling good, so I gave a panhandler on Vermont Avenue a five after leaving the restaurant. That may have been a mistake. Or maybe it was just dumb luck, dumb bad luck, because when I turned away from the lights of Vermont Avenue, I was shoved hard from behind. I sprawled into a jade plant hedge, which collapsed under my weight, giving me nothing to push against to right myself. It’s one of those silly truths, when you need your hands to support you but they’re holding something (like bags of fragrant, steaming Punjabi curries) you don’t let go of the bags but clutch them all the tighter. So, I was falling into a slowly collapsing hedge, with the bags of dinner getting tangled in the brittle stems of jade plant. It wasn’t until all the ruckus was over that I realized I’d been mugged. There I was, laid out on my stomach amidst the succulent, broken stems and with various curries spreading in varicolored and fragrant puddles around me. By the time I had struggled to sitting, whoever had shoved me was out of sight around the corner. It took me a while to get my bearings. It was about then that found it hard to catch my breath. I tried to push myself back to my feet but felt a screeching pain shoot down my right arm. My arm buckled and I landed on my stomach once again, this time with my face in the saag paneer. I couldn’t figure what was wrong, so began to twist the other direction to push myself up on my left. I gasped at the burn that spread across my right side when I tried to twist, so I rolled my body in one piece so that I was looking towards the darkening sky. In my peripheral vision, I saw a young woman approaching quickly.

 

“Are you alright? I saw that guy push you. You OK?”

 

I lay there, confused. Why was I confused? It’s not like anything had happened beside being shoved and having fallen. I tried to sit up again but couldn’t seem to catch my breath. I was still on my back looking up at the woman.

 

“Uh… I’m OK… I think… Um… can you help me up?”

 

I started to reach my right hand to her but gasped at the intense pain below my shoulder.

 

“You sure you’re OK? You don’t look so good.”

 

“I don’t know… I… If you can just help me up, I’ll be all right if I can get home.”

 

I reached again, this time with my left hand. It didn’t hurt as much.

 

With her help, he got myself back to sitting. It was then that I realized that a green curry was dripping off my face. I tried to wipe it away with my sleeve but was shaken again my the pain on my right. After taking a couple shallow breaths, I wiped my face with my left hand. There was a warm curry that was dripping down my back as well. I must have rolled into it when I fell back down. I realized that the woman had been talking to me.

 

“… don’t look so good. Listen, I’m calling an ambulance.” She had her cell in her hand.

 

“No, don’t bother. I just need to catch my breath.” She didn’t look convinced, but she put her cell back on her jacket pocket.

 

“M’am… Miss, if you can just help me get back up, I oughta be able to get home. I’m sorry to bother you. I don’t know what’s wrong. Just give me a hand.”

 

I started to reach with my right and then remembered to use my left. When I reached standing, it turned out she wasn’t a big girl, but she was big enough to help me to my feet despite the sharp pain in my back that made me gasp all over again. She began to brush me off, but then let out a series of choked squeaks.

 

“Listen, mister, you’d better sit back down. I’m gonna make a quick call.”

 

I couldn’t figure why she told me to sit down again, but my knees felt awfully wobbly, so I sank back down to the sidewalk with a sigh. I looked up at her, feeling confused again. I noticed her hand had a dark, wet stain on it. Probably ended up in one of the wasted curries, I figured. Despite my confusion, I was startled to hear her saying something about a stabbing.

 

“Listen, Miss, would you mind helping me get to where I’m staying? I’m sorry to bother you.”

 

She just shook her head as she continued to speak into the phone. She looked away briefly to check the street signs and then gave the location to the person on the phone. Soon, she hung up and squatted down beside me.

 

“Just stay here. I’ll wait with you. Are you warm enough?” She began to shirk out of her jacket.

 

“No, I’m warm enough. Keep your jacket, thanks. Do you know Gary? How did you… know to call him?” I felt addle brained, but tried to be polite and converse while we waited, but I was beginning to feel pretty bad. I couldn’t catch my breath. I could only manage shallow breaths without exacerbating the pain in my chest and back. It must have been shock or something. I’d heard that shock could be dangerous but I didn’t remember how to treat for it.

 

She didn’t answer my question but asked one of her own. “Where do you live? What’s your phone number?”

 

That confused me even more. Why did she need Gary’s phone number and address if she’d just called him? Then I realized she meant my cell. I reached down to grab the cell and was reminded to use my left by the sharp pain in my shoulder. Only it wasn’t there.

 

“Fuck, he must have… have gotten the phone. I don’t know my number… I just got the phone… yesterday.”

 

“No, where do you live?”

 

“At Gary’s.” I was puzzled. Her question just didn’t make sense. “Didn’t you… didn’t you just call Gary?” I was having to stop to catch my breath to finish my sentences.

 

“No. But if you give me Gary’s phone number and I’ll call him.” She gave me a smile that seemed just a little patronizing. The whole incident was getting really bizarre.

 

I heard a siren as I was finishing dictating Gary’s number. Yeah, there were always a lot of cops racing around in the city. I got a pang of missing Rence. His place was so quiet. I wanted to be there just then, rather than sitting on a sidewalk in LA surrounded by cooling curries, crushed take out containers and bits of jade plant. I really had to get up and get home.

 

“Listen, Miss, I really need to… need to get home… Let’s try… getting me up… again.” I tried to smile pleasantly at her.

 

She was talking into her phone again. “What’s your name?”

 

“Karl… Karl Ackermann… And you are?”

 

She ignored me and spoke urgently into her phone. I couldn’t hear her because just then, the siren with accompanying flashing lights turned onto the street where I was sitting. She waved her arms to get the attention, not of the police, but of an ambulance. I expected it to race past us, but it pulled up by us, on the wrong side of the street. What a coincidence that someone in the neighboring houses would need an ambulance . Then I realized.

 

“Oh, no! No, you’ve… No, Miss, I don’t… don’t need an amb… ambulance!” She was really being too intrusive. “I just need… to get to… to Gary’s.” I coughed. Sweet Jesus! The pain in my back/shoulder/side! I’d coughed up something so I spat. It tasted weird.

 

An ambulance attendant was pulling out a gurney. The girl was talking to another animatedly. The EMT approached. She was asking me questions. I couldn’t make sense of what she said. I coughed and covered my mouth. The EMT was in my face. Jesus, my chest hurt! I looked at my hand. There was a splotch of blood on it. Oh God! I ran back through the mugging. I’d been shoved hard. Just below my right shoulder blade. I’d collapsed into the hedge. I couldn’t use my right arm. Without searing pain. I couldn’t breath deeply. The realization I’d been stabbed was forming when the sound of blood in my ears drowned out all other noises and my vision shrank to a point and then…

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

And then, I came to on the gurney in the back of the moving ambulance. It took me a few moments to figure out what was happening. The EMT saw me looking at him and gave me a curt nod before saying something into his mic.

 

“I was stabbed?”

 

The EMT nodded. “You’ll be OK. We’ll be at the ER in a few minutes. Sorry about your shirt.”

 

I realized I was covered with nothing but a sheet. My shirt was gone. “It’s alright. I didn’t like it.” I tried to smile and even succeeded to an extent.

 

He smiled back. “I’ve got some questions for you.”

 

I nodded. We went through the standard ‘are you in your right mind’ questions.

 

He smiled again. “I’m happy to say, you passed the test.”

 

“Good. My wallet?”

 

“We couldn’t find any ID. Your friend gave us your basic info. You’ll have to provide insurance and more complete info at the ER.”

 

“Friend? Who? Oh… I never met her before.”

 

“Oh.”

 

The ambulance pulled around a curve and under a portico. The EMT got busy and soon I was rolling into the emergency room.

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

Hospitals are horrible places. I’ve hated them ever since… well, I’ve hated them ever since my circumcision when I was six. It’s a long story. Leave it be… don’t ask.

 

I was out before long. Gary picked me up and took me ‘home’. Stab wound… collapsed lung… scrapes and bruises… contusions. Strange word, that… contusions. What was the verb form? Contuse? I contuse, you contuse, he/she/or it contuses? There was nothing serious, however. Well, nothing seriously serious. Recuperation took a week or so. Not long, but it did require me to reschedule all the appointments I had made the afternoon before the attack. Fortunately, I had several days to rearrange my schedule and fortunately, my agent did most of the heavy lifting. Those same days, my agent deflected the brief media storm when the item hit the news cycle. I do hate the prominence my job creates, especially when quiet and rest is what I need and deserve. Then, I had to survive several interrogations from an officious police officer who wouldn’t accept my complete ignorance about my attacker. I got another iPhone. Funnily, we found the earpiece at the site of the attack. It had flown off my ear as I was struggling with the bags of food and the jade plants. I could still look like a fashion victim from a Star Trek episode if I chose to wear it. Gary took some time off work the first few days I was back in his guest room to play nurse maid, cook, bottle washer and dog walker. He’s a good guy.

 

I got the name of the woman who had helped me. I sent her flowers and made a donation to the local reformed synagogue (her last name was Stein… I made an assumption… so sue me).

 

Things were a little different, however. One evening, when Gary had ordered out, I found I had lost all appetite for curry. Even the smell bothered me. Then, I found I didn’t feel safe out walking unless Gary or Butch was with me. Sounds from behind made me startle, even when Butch was at my side. That and my infatuation with LA paled. I remembered Rence’s ranch with fondness, despite the horrible sights I had seen there during my visit.

 

The biggest difference, however, was in my relationship with Rence. Yes, I had begun to use that word, ‘relationship’ when thinking of Rence. But now, I had begun to question his seriousness, his commitment. He had called every day when I was in the hospital and in the days after, several times a day sometimes. He had sent flowers. He had sent a card. In fact, his entire family sent cards; Peio sent a card; Paula and Ramiro sent a card for themselves and Alain and Maarietta. I got a card from the vet, David. I even got a card from Johanna, Peio’s friend who dreamed of being an actor. I got more cards from Wyoming than I did from Seattle. Just as many as I got from my family in Kansas City. That was great, only, the problem was, he didn’t come see me. I felt relegated to secondary status, following placidly behind his sheep. I didn’t like that. I couldn’t, wouldn’t mention my disappointment, however. He made his choice. He missed an opportunity to get to know me better and be a part of my life when I really needed someone with me, to support me and care for me. It was alright. Gary had taken those days off work, so I had help the first days home from the hospital. Only, I was disappointed in Rence. Deeply disappointed.

 

Nearly a week after the attack, I was sitting in Gary’s living room enjoying the sun on the sofa when I heard my cell ring. I still hadn’t programmed individual rings. I moved to catch the call as quickly as was comfortable; I wasn’t quite up to running to answer the phone yet. It was Rence.

 

“Hi Rence.”

 

“Hey, Hun. What’re you doing? How’re you feeling? How’s your back, Karl?”

 

“Much better, thanks. I was just sitting in the living room, enjoying the sun, listening to NPR. It’s the middle of the day… what’re you doing on the phone?”

 

“Just catching a quick bite. The ewes are dropping lambs right and left, so I’m real busy. So far, so good. We haven’t had any more coyote trouble and there haven’t been any birthing problems that Manny and I couldn’t handle. I haven’t seen Dave – you remember the vet? – since that awful day you were here. I just thought I’d give you a quick ring to let you know… well, that I’m thinking of you and wishing I could be there instead of here.”

 

“That’s OK. I know you’ve got lots to do at the ranch. Hey, did you know that Dave sent a card? If you see him, thank him for me, would you?”

 

“Sure, will do. Listen, you’ve been on my thoughts a lot recently. Are you really alright? I worry about you alone there at the house. Worse, I worry about you in LA. Is it really safe where you are? I could come out here if you like. I know it’s been a while since the attack, but if you need or want help, you could come here or I could be there…”

 

“Thanks, Rence, but you’ve got a ranch to run. Gary’s helped a lot. And where I am is considered a safe area. It was just bad luck. It could happen anywhere. And I’ll be going back to work day after tomorrow. I’ve got some time scheduled with a voice coach that afternoon. I’m taking it easy right now, but I’ll be alright. Thanks, though.”

 

“If you say so. Hey, I pulled some porrusalda out of the freezer and thought of you. It sure was good having you here. I want to see you soon and… well, you know… I want to hold you and kiss you and… well, you know… You’re a really sweet and wonderful man, Karl. It’s eating me up to be stuck here while you’re there…”

 

“Rence, it really is alright. Now, I don’t want to keep you. It’s awfully late for your lunch. You must have been busy. You probably have to go. Say ‘Hi’ to Peio if you see him.”

 

“I’ll do that. Bye, Karl. I miss you.”

 

“Bye, Rence. We’ll work out a way to see one another.”

 

“OK, bye, Karl.”

 

I thought about my part in the conversation. I had to admit I’d been distancing myself from Rence. Hell! Actually, I’d been lying to him. I wasn’t alright; it wasn’t alright. Shouldn’t he have come to see me when I had spent those nights in the hospital? Shouldn’t he have made it a point of being by my side while that exasperating police officer quizzed me yet again, trying to get a description of my assailant? Shouldn’t he have seen through my protestations that everything was alright and made it a point to be with me? I just didn’t have the confidence that he was seriously interested in me and in us as a couple, aside from thinking I was sexy. He still needed to prove himself and his dedication before I was willing to think about us as a couple.

 

I decided to put our relationship on the back burner and to wait to see if he wanted more from me, for us. I wasn’t developing the trust in him that I had hoped for. Nor in myself after being burned by Joel.

 

Weeks passed and became months. Rence and I spoke regularly: first, about my appointments with the voice coach; then, about the voice-overs for the ads; and finally, about the pilot: the readings, the rehearsals, the costuming and make up and finally the time in front of the camera, in character, responding to my colleagues in their characters, weaving an alternate reality among the ensemble. Also, we talked about lambing, about guarding against uterine prolapse, and about ewe’s milk production, liveweight gain and pasture forage ratios. Strangely, I found Rence’s descriptions of his herds fascinating. Despite feeling miffed that he hadn’t been around to provide care during my recuperation, I kept asking him for more details as he described his work on the ranches. My intended chilliness simply wasn’t working out as I had intended. I found myself enjoying and looking forward to our conversations when we could arrange the time. Despite the geographical distance, our friendship was deepening.

 

My LA sojourn was drawing to a close. It was time to repack my car and take the long drive north, returning to Seattle to fulfill my contracts for a couple theatrical runs in a summer company, and to put my townhouse on the market and tie up the loose ends that kept me connected to the Pacific Northwest. My re-entry to LA hadn’t been without problems (occasional twinges in the muscles around my shoulder blades reminded me of the attack) but I looked forward to returning to live permanently in the city where I had spent the balance of my life. I was confident that moving back would help me rediscover the assurance I once had before my ill fated relationship with Joel and our move to the PNW. Already, my agent had lined up more voice-overs for the fall when I returned to LA. Evidently, the pilot was floating around the various broadcasting companies, looking for a commitment and a timeslot. Even so, my agent wanted me to be available if it got picked up for a season.

 

My life continued to roll along evenly but without any developments in the Rence/Karl realm, until I got a phone call as I was packing up my temporary office in the corner of Gary’s guest room.

 

“Karl, I’m glad I got hold of you.” It was Rence, calling a little earlier in the day than usual. “I want to get some business out of the way and then we can just talk.

 

“What are you doing the last weekend of July?”

 

“Um… let me check my datebook… I’mmmm… I’ll be between productions in Seattle, though there may be some meetings to get ready for the O’Neil, that’s the second show. That’ll be my last gig in Seattle! I figured I’d be getting my townhouse ready to put on the market. Why?”

 

“Do you think you could get away for a few days? ‘Cause, I’m going to go the Jaialdi in Boise. That’s the Basque festival they put on there. It’s fun, but it’s also a chance for us to promote our lamb and cheese and we’ll be checking out expanding our markets in the region. I thought you and I might get to spend some time together there. It’s about halfway between Seattle and the ranches. If you’re still interested, that is.”

 

Boy, that put me on the spot. Was I still interested? It had been months since we had done more than talk on the phone, and while that had been going well, very well in fact, meeting him out of town would be a big step.

 

“You there, Karl? You don’t have to go. It’s no big deal if you can’t make it.”

 

It was a big deal, though.

 

“Yeah, sorry to be slow on the uptake. Let me make some calls and I’ll get back to you. It would be good to see you after all this time burnin’ up the wires. What’s the Jai… whatever it is… like?”

 

“Jaialdi. Like I said, it’s fun, especially if you’re Basque. But it’s fun whatever you are. There’re sports competitions, like weight lifting and hay bale throwing; there are dance performances by different groups… Alain will be in one of them; and there’s lots of food. Lots and lots of food. And there’ll be me.”

 

Hmmm… the ‘me’ sounded good. “Well Rence, I’ve really liked the Basque food you’ve served. And Alain’s going to be dancing? I had no idea. But, then, I really don’t know him. On our drive out to your place, he barely spoke ten words.”

 

“Yeah, he’s kinda quiet. At least till he gets to know you. But he’s a sweetie. If you come to the Jaialdi, maybe he’ll loosen up with you some more. So, whadja think? You in?”

 

“I’ll call you soon. Is there any deadline or anything? Do you need to know right away? And about the ‘me’ you mentioned, would we get any time alone, just the two of us?”

 

“We could arrange that.” I could see a smile on his face, maybe a smirk, even through the wires.

 

“Hey, don’t smirk at me! ‘Cause I can tell you are, Rence. I’ll call you soon to let you know. I suspect I can get away for the weekend at least.”

 

“Well, there’s no immediate deadline to let me know, but I am reserving rooms now. It can get booked up, so the sooner the better.”

 

We went on to talk about our lives and to share news.

 

“So, Karl, get back to me if you can make it… well, even if you can’t. Call me. Bye now.”

 

And that was it. I pulled up my contact list on my cell (boy, they sure are handy contraptions!) and began making calls. Knowing how things work (or don’t) in the trade, it was going to involve several days of phone tag before I would get any firm answers about my availability that last weekend of July. Until then, Rence would just have to wait.

 

It ended up taking more time than I had expected. I was in my Seattle townhouse, packing boxes with memorabilia when I finally got the approval for taking off the weekend of the Jai… the Basque event in Boise… and the beginning of the following week. I immediately got on the phone.

 

“Hello, Rence here.”

 

“Hey Rence, is it too late for a room at the Jai-thingy? I can go.”

 

“Jaialdi. Repeat after me… Jaialdi.”

 

“Jaialdi, Jaialdi, Jaialdi. Well, is it?”

 

“Is it what?”

 

I could hear the smirk again. “Don’t trifle with me, young man! I can hear the excess of dripping innocence in that mellifluous voice of yours. Is it too late to attend the… uh, the Jailada with you?”

 

“Jaialdi! If you can’t say it, should you even think about attending?”

 

“Jaialdi, and yes, I should.”

 

“OK. It’s not too late. I’ve got an extra room. Or…”

 

“Or what?”

 

“Or… you could share the room with me.” All the teasing had gone from his tone.

 

“…”

 

“You still there, Karl? I’m sorry if I’m too… or it’s too… Oh fuck! Just talk to me.”

 

“I’m still here. I’m talking. Rence, I’m not so sure. We haven’t talked much about our pasts or my past, at least. I’m… Rence, you’re really attractive… sexy, really… and you’re a really nice guy… and I’m sort of… well, I’m kinda messed up when it comes to romance and relationships. At least right now I am.”

 

“Why does that sound like a brush off?” He didn’t sound too pleased.

 

“It’s not. Really, it’s not. Rence, I’m still getting over a really bad break up. It was years ago, but it… was bad. I’m not certain if I’m ready yet… if I’m available yet.”

 

“Shiiitttt. I’m sorry, Karl. When was it?”

 

“Two, well, going on three years. I know you’re going to tell me it’s time to move on and all. And actually I have. I’m not pining or waiting for Joel, that was his name, for Joel to come back. I know he won’t. The thing is, he kind of broke my confidence. I really went out on a limb for him, for the two of us, and got burned, and now I don’t trust myself to know what’s right. Jesus! I sound like a teenager! I hate this! And I hate that it’s effecting you. That’s why I’m telling you I’m not available. I don’t want you to have to put up with this kind of shit.”

 

“Karl. It really is alright. You’ll take the time you need. Maybe now’s not the time for the two of us. I’m sorry you feel so… I don’t know… uncertain… or… demoralized or whatever… But hear me when I say this, I think you’re a remarkable man. I really like you. I think I could learn to love you. And here’s why: you showed me you’re considerate when you helped out with Aiala on that god-awful day in February. You show me you’re adaptable when you listen to me go on and on about the ranch… and I’ll tell you, I don’t think there are a whole lot of folks in your line of work who would do that. You showed me you’re resilient when you recovered quickly from the attack earlier this month… and I don’t mean just physically. I mean, you didn’t go all bitter and nasty like some people do when they have to deal with that kind of thing. And physically, well, physically you’re amazing. I think you’re… well, lets just say, you float my boat. ‘Nuff said?

 

“Karl, come to the festival. Stay in the extra room. Alain can share the room with me. You and I’ll plan to spend as much time as we want to with one another, and if you like, after spending more time with me and if you’re comfortable, you can switch with Alain. He’ll be alright with that. I’d be more than alright with it. Whadja say?”

 

“I… “ I tried to catch my breath and get it past the sudden frog in my throat. He was saying all the right things. I cleared my throat to keep from croaking, “I can do that.”

 

“Good. Good answer! I’ll get it organized and shoot you an e-mail. You’re gonna eat some of the best food this side of San Sebastian. You’re gonna see some of the best dancing this side of Biaritz. You’re gonna hear some of the best music west of Bilbao. You’re gonna… what’s left?… Oh, you’re gonna enjoy some of the best company this side of anywhere! I am totally stoked! This is gonna be great! I’ll get the particulars to you: my schedule (‘cause you know I’ve got some networking to do), the hotel, what’s best that’s going on, when Alain’s dancing, all of it. You’re gonna be glad you said, ‘Yes’! We’re gonna have a good time!”

 

And then Rence got a little silly as he mangled that old Beatles hit:

 

“Happy birthday to you-oo

We’re gonna have a good time

(dada dada da da da da, boom boom boom!)

 

I would like you to dance – Birthday

Take a cha-cha-cha-chance – Birthday”

 

He had a pretty good singing voice, a pleasant baritone even when goofing around.

 

“Uh, Rence… It’s… uh… not my birthday. But I’ll let you know when it is. And thanks for the serenade!”

 

“You’re welcome and yeah, I know it’s not your birthday. Actually, I don’t know that. When’s your birthday?”

 

“Why, you wanna figure out what sign I am so you can figure out whether we’re compatible or not?”

 

“Nah… Just curious. Mine’s April 6. So, what’s yours?”

 

“Wha? You didn’t tell me. I would have sent you a card or something.”

 

“You’re changing the subject. Don’t change the subject! When is it? Spill!”

 

“It’s March 31st.”

 

“’Wha? You didn’t tell me. I would have sent you a card of something.’ Doofus! OK, what year? I’m 1957.”

 

“1962… old man!”

 

“Say that again and I’ll put you over my knee! You’re not too old to spank, sonny boy!”

 

Rence’s chuckle warmed my heart. I suppose I was chuckling, myself.

 

“Yeah, yeah… whatever… Listen, Rence, I’ve got some packing to do. Get me the info and I’ll be there at the Jaialdi. There, did I say it right?”

 

“Yup! Finally! You just have to work on your accent now. Listen, I’ll be in touch. G’bye, Hun.”

 

I listened until I heard the click. He’d called me ‘Hun’ again. I did like that. It felt good. Yeah, we were ‘gonna have a good time’. I definitely liked the guy.

 

I still wasn’t sure about getting involved romantically again, as much as I’d want him to be the man if I did. I hated my lack of confidence. He’d said, ‘demoralized’ and that was right. Joel had really done a number on me. But then, I had done a number on myself, just as much. ‘Point your finger at someone else and you have three fingers pointing back at yourself.’ Yeah, but the lame old aphorism didn’t mention the thumb. I checked it out right then. My thumb pointed at the other person! And a thumb was as important as two fingers, right? So, thumb and forefinger pointing at Joel – other three fingers pointing back at me. It was a wash. Damn! Somehow, I had hoped for a clearer solution in my desire to blame Joel. Silly truism… silly me!

 

I wrapped a vase in tissue and got back to packing. In another month or so, I’d be in Boise and with Rence. Boise? Idaho? Christ! What was in Boise? Nuthin! Except for Rence for two days in late July. That was sumthin’! I thought back to my second-guessing Rence’s interest during the weeks after my rehabilitation. Now, I was back to crushing on the guy the same as I was before the attack. As inconstant as I was in my affections, it wasn’t as bad as it had been when I was young. Then, I ran from hot to cold. Now, the mature me ran from cool to tepid. In truth, I don’t know which is better, but I don’t miss the maddening fluctuations. I feel much more ‘civilized’ and mature now.

 

I finished with the box, taped it shut and looked back in the closet for the next items to pack. At the very back I spied Jack’s fly rod, the one that had been tied to the roof of my Subie on my second stop at Rence’s gas station when I was driving back from Mom and Jack’s house after Christmas. Then, I thought back to waking in the guest room on Rence’s ranch during my visit after moving Mom to Kansas City after Jack’s death. I pictured Rence’s family photos in the bookshelves of that room, specifically, the photos of a proud younger Rence showing off the string of trout he’d caught. Which got me thinking about the few spare days I had after the Jaialdi (I felt proud that I had finally mastered the word!) and before I had to return to Seattle. If I could get Rence away into the mountains around Boise, maybe… maybe we could take a couple days for just the two of us, away from other people, away from family; the two of us beside a mountain stream, fishing, talking, eating, getting to know one another.

 

It sounded like a good plan, just what we needed at the beginning of what could become our relationship. I quit packing and pulled out my laptop to search for a lodge that might accommodate us for a couple days of what I hoped would be fishing, bonding and maybe, intimacy. Intimacy – sex – Jesus! It had been a really… long… time.