GWM - 13. Chapter 13 of 18

Geoff

After the quasi-clowns, things started getting serious again. Not that Harry had really changed anything. He also met Geoff through an ad. But this was one Geoff ran in the valley paper.
Geoff designed and built furniture, mainly period pieces. “Not reproductions,” he told Harry on the phone. “New work.” He had a small shop in an old factory building.
“How’d you get into that?” Harry asked. He was slightly jealous of Geoff’s creative independence, but still never forgot what his eighth grade shop teacher had said, sadly evaluating a woodworking project of Harry’s. The man had shaken his head and said, “Sussman, never depend on your hands for a living.” Three years later, the same teacher gave Harry straight A’s for drafting, but by then, the curse had been set.
“I followed my dad into the business,” Geoff explained. “He followed his dad, and so on. I’m not even Geoff, Junior. I’m Lindsey Geoffon Bengston, the sixth.”
Harry wanted to hum, “I’m Henry the Eighth, I Am” but refrained. “I’d like to see your stuff,” he said instead, then laughed. “That came out wrong.”
Geoff also laughed. “Well, I’m standing here naked.”
They laughed together, and Harry hoped Geoff was kidding.
“How’d you happen to run an ad?” Harry went on. “You’d have no trouble meeting guys.”
“Why do you say that?
“You seem like an interesting man.” They’d been talking for a while.
“You seem like an interesting guy, too,” Geoff responded. “So why are you answering ads?”
“I asked you first.”
And they laughed again. “I ran the ad ‘cause I’m not meeting the kind of men I want to,” Geoff explained.
“Hope you have good luck.”
“Well, I’m talking to you.”
Easy flattery. Which Harry deferred.
“Why are you having problems?” Geoff went on.
“I don’t know. Maybe my standards are a bit high.”
“What’re you looking for?”
Harry hesitated. It was a familiar question, and he tried for a fresh answer. “Maybe I need to be challenged.”
“How?”
“In every way, I guess. I think I don’t want a relationship with a guy who’s simply nice. I need to connect.”
“Passionately?”
“That makes it sound strictly physical, and I have no problem finding sex. Hell, I connect with trees.”
“Isn’t that’s illegal?”
Harry grinned. “You wanted to know,” he side-stepped, which Geoff admitted. “And what are you after?” Harry asked.
Geoff chuckled. “The opposite of you. Something easy.”
“Nice talkin’ to ya.”
“No... don’t hang up. You sound fine.”
“All right then.” And Harry relaxed.
“You want a drink?” Geoff soon asked. “You wanna meet somewhere?”
It was only just past seven, so Harry didn’t immediately think of Ollie. But the thought was out there.
“Sure,” Harry said. And since Geoff’s shop was just off South Main Street, they met at a local bar.
It was the first time Harry had been in there, though he recognized faces after he came through the door. A woman from the hardware store. One of the local cops. A kid he always saw in the library. They smiled as he passed.
Geoff was at the pool table, dressed as he’d described. Though his clothes were better than Harry had expected.
“You play?” Geoff asked, offering Harry a cue.
“Well enough.”
“Then I won’t take your money.”
They played. Geoff moved fluidly and was fine-looking. Brownish-blond hair. A mustache and beard. A tattersall shirt over a turtleneck, and fitted jeans. Harry missed at least one easy shot, just looking.
After Geoff won, they moved to a booth. “Good game,” he said. “You hungry?”
“I already kind of ate.”
“Mind if I do?”
“No, I’ll get something for dessert.”
“I wouldn’t do that here.”
“Bad?”
Geoff made a face.
“Should we go somewhere else?” Harry asked.
Geoff shook his head. “I like it here. My shop’s just down the block. They feed me all the time.” He grinned. “I’m easy about food, too.”
He ordered a burger and fries, which came looking just as Harry had imagined. “Why I warned you off dessert,” Geoff said, amused.
Harry had coffee. “It’s strong,” Geoff cautioned. “They don’t believe in decaf, so it’ll keep you up all night.”
“That’s okay. I work late.”
“So do I. I go through assistants like fries.” He popped one in his mouth.
“They younger than you are?”
“Everyone is.”
Harry smiled. He and Geoff were almost the same age. “This can’t be the only bar you go to.”
Geoff laughed and said, “Ya got me!” Then he studied Harry. “We haven’t met before, have we?”
“No. I don’t go to bars much.”
“You seem to know all about them.”
Harry shrugged. “Only a guy in his thirties -- early thirties,” he added, “who hangs out in gay bars -- would think of himself as old.”
Geoff laughed again. “That’s half the reason I ran the ad. I was out the other week.... dancing... surrounded by kids. I don’t dance badly... I move fine. But when I started talking with this guy, he stared right past me. When he finally focused, all I could see in his eyes was, ‘Why is this old man hitting on me?’”
Harry grinned. “He was probably looking at someone else. Or was with someone.”
“No one should be ‘with someone’ at his age.”
“Why’re you looking at kids then?”
For a moment, Geoff seemed reflective. “Because I used to be able to. Not long ago.”
And they laughed. Then Harry considered something.
“You’ve been married, too. Haven’t you?”
Geoff smiled. “You’ve got me all over the place. Do you read palms?”
“I won’t even date anyone who knows his sign.”
“Virgil.”
Harry grinned.
“How’d you know I was married?” Geoff asked.
“Just a guess. Long?”
“A couple years. It didn’t take for the obvious reason, and I never should’ve tried because of that. Still, we got a great kid out of it.”
“Inherit the family business?”
“If she wants.”
Harry liked this. It was fun, but it was also past nine. And he’d brought home the usual amount of work.
He started to stand. “I’d like to see your shop someday. I like furniture. It’s something I sometimes design”
“Well, you know how close I am. Pick a day. When’s good?”
Harry politely stalled. “Can I phone you?”
“Sure.” And Geoff gave him a business card.
“A couple of days, at the most,” Harry promised.
“I look forward to it.”
And they shook hands. As Harry left, Geoff went back to play pool.
Once home, Harry tossed the business card on his bedroom bookcase. He liked Geoff. But he wasn’t about to get serious about a guy who danced with twenty-year-olds.
“You’re nuts,” Gordon said.
“Why?”
“Tell me what he looks like first.”
“That’s always your first question.”
“It’s often the whole answer.”
“He looks fine.”
“Then go for it.”
“I don’t want to just sleep around... again,” Harry said. “You know that.”
“God, do I.” And Gordon fake moaned.
“I thought you were seeing someone,” Harry said.
“I was. I stopped. We did.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. The guy was always high.”
Harry sighed. “I’m really sorry.”
Gordon shrugged.
So two days later, Harry called Geoff. He’d been flipping through an architecture magazine and noticed a small ad for Geoff’s business. He must have seen it before. The town’s name alone would have gotten his attention. But he didn’t remember.
“Geoff?” Harry said to the man who answered the phone.
“Wrong.”
“Is Geoff there?”
“Hold.”
And he heard what sounded like the phone hitting the floor. “One of your surly staff?” he joked when Geoff picked up.
Geoff laughed. “Yeah... Igor.” He pronounced it “Aye-Gore,”as in the Mel Brooks film. “You should see him. Knuckles to the floor. Covered in fur. He keeps bursting out of his clothes.”
“I call the right number?” Harry asked. “Is this Fantasy Fone?”
Geoff laughed again, and Harry arranged to stop by his shop the next afternoon.
“That way you can see us working,” Geoff explained. “After the guys leave, I’ve promised not to use tools.”
“Accidents?”
“Not to me, so far. But there are too many horror stories.”
Harry got there near four. Igor met him at the elevator. At least, that’s who Harry guessed it was. Tense. Dark hair. Dense beard -- as untrimmed as Geoff’s was neat. And half falling out of a ragged shirt.
“Heel,” Geoff said, coming up behind them. When he introduced Harry, the guy’s name was “Stu.”
“Good craftsman. No manners,” Geoff said, smiling. “But Laurel makes up for it.”
Laurel was the shop’s other “guy.” She did the finishing work. Hand-painting. Stains. And she was delightful.
“If my daughter turns out half as well, I’ll be thrilled,” Geoff said, which made Laurel blush. She clearly adored her boss.
“They been with you long?” Harry asked after Laurel went back to work.
“Don’t mention that!” Geoff said, knocking wood. “And you know I’m not superstitious.”
The shop was surprisingly large. “I bought it when real estate was down,” Geoff admitted. “It’s why we moved. Never had anything this size before.”
“Where were you before?”
“Northampton, not far from Smith.”
“What happens when real estate booms?”
“I retire,” Geoff said, grinning. “So I’d better show you around.”
His furniture was beautiful. Carefully thought out. Elegant. Made of almost perfect woods.
“Got to be expensive,” Harry guessed.
“Depends how much you value an arm.”
Harry smiled.
After Stu and Laurel left, Geoff showed Harry file after file of photos and drawings.
“Years of work,” he explained. “Going back over a century.”
“You’ve got quite a range.”
“I do the tough stuff myself.” He said it modestly.
“Your dad retired?” Harry asked.
“Dead, unfortunately.”
Harry was sorry he’d brought it up.
“He wasn’t old,” Geoff went on. “A drunk kid. Driving wildly. The best thing I can say -- and this is hard for some people to take -- is the kid fucked himself up pretty good in the crash.”
Harry nodded, simply acknowledging.
“Dinner?” Geoff asked, brightening.
Harry hadn’t expected that. “Can I pick the restaurant?”
“You’re gonna make me eat well?” Geoff joked.
“I’ll pay.”
So they drove to Northampto, and ate in a good Italian restaurant Harry liked. It was quiet and friendly. Afterward, they walked along the river. Talking of nothing important. Occasionally bumping shoulders.
“I’ve got to swing by my ex-wife’s,” Geoff finally interrupted. “That’s why I needed to bring my car. Got something for our daughter.”
Harry guessed the daughter lived with Geoff’s ex-wife.
“You busy Friday night?” Geoff went on.
Harry considered. “You won’t miss dancing?”
“I’ll be happy to be with an adult.”
“Where?”
“My place? I’m a surprisingly good cook. But that’s a secret you don’t share.”
Harry agreed, and Friday, he brought wine. It wasn’t wasted. Geoff grilled chicken, then served it with salad, corn-on-the-cob, and strawberries. His house was traditional, filled with furniture his family had made.
“But it’s too big and gets too cold in winter,” Geoff admitted. “I have to close off half the rooms, since there’s only me.”
“Your daughter never stays here?”
“When she does, she sleeps with me. Kind of like bundling.” He looked at Harry. “That too weird for you?”
“Nothing I had to know.”
“She’s only seven.”
And they laughed.
As Harry left, Geoff gently kissed him. Though he seemed to be holding back. Then he asked, “What’re you doing Sunday?”
“I already have plans.”
“All day?”
“All afternoon.”
“And the evening?”
Harry hadn’t really thought about it. But there was no reason to be alone.
“You’re welcome to stop by,” Geoff offered. “Dinner won’t be much. I eat light on Sunday.”
“Any special reason?”
“Hard work, Monday.”
“Sunday then,” Harry agreed. “But at my place. I’ll pick something up.”
Sunday afternoon, Harry was at a wedding. Before that, he had breakfast with Gordon.
“How’s it going?” Gordon asked.
“Fine.”
“What’ve you been doing?”
“The usual.”
“Ever see that tradesman again?”
“He’s a designer, the same as I am. But he works smaller.”
“Meaning he has smaller works?”
Harry kicked Gordon under the table. But Gordon took that as a “Yes.”
“So you have been seeing him,” Gordon gloated.
“We’ve had dinner a couple of times. That’s it.”
And Harry realized that was it. He hadn’t even thought he was dating Geoff. He was just another friend.
But for a moment, Harry tried to imagine what was under Geoff’s clothes. He always wore jeans. Long sleeves. Turtlenecks. Maybe he was completely tattooed.
He said as much to Gordon.
“I’d like that,” Gordon allowed.
Harry wasn’t as sure.
On Sunday, Geoff appeared at Harry’s door as soon as he got home -- though they hadn’t set a time and the reception ran long. “Now who’s clairvoyant?” Harry asked.
“I was waiting across the street,” Geoff confessed. “I needed to check the gazebo anyway. I do, from time-to-time. It’s a family gift to the town.”
“You’re kidding?”
“No.”
“You designed it?”
“Yeah.”
Harry laughed.
“Adapted it, really,” Geoff went on. “It’s a classic design.”
“I’ve always liked it,” Harry said. Without explaining the personal connection.
During dinner, they played backgammon. It’s was Geoff’s idea, when he saw Harry’s set on the bookcase. Harry had picked up Indian food, remembering Geoff ate light. He could pick at what he wanted.
“This from Northampton?” Geoff asked.
“Amherst.”
“I should get over there. It’s not far, but I never make it past the bridge.”
Geoff easily beat Harry. “I’ve had too much practice,” he admitted. “A friend of mine told me, ‘We played cribbage through your marriage, and backgammon through your divorce.’”
“You seem comfortable enough,” Harry said. “With your ex-wife.”
“How could I not be? There’s too much at stake.”
Harry figured Geoff was talking about his daughter. He still hadn’t mentioned her name.
“Maybe,” Harry admitted. “But I know other guys” -- he was thinking of Matthew -- “who aren’t as nice to their ex-es.”
“We’ve never been that way. Sheila’s terrific. Always has been. She’s remarried -- to a great guy. They have their own daughter. And you might think my daughter would be jealous, going into something that complicated. Especially with me still around to make things worse. But we’ve all been fine.”
Harry realized he wasn’t completely listening. He’d been watching Geoff’s hands.
They were in the kitchen, Harry’s favorite room in his apartment. During the day, light flooded through the matchstick blinds. At night, the pale wood set a feeling of calm. Sitting there, he had only one question: Why didn’t he like this guy more?
Geoff offered no answers. Instead, he finally stopped talking. He smiled. “I’d love to see you without your clothes.”
The man was nothing if not honest.
Harry grinned. “I’ve got a bet going with a friend,” he said. “That you’re completely tattooed.”
“Why would you think that?” Geoff asked.
“Because you’re always so well-covered.”
Geoff smiled. “I like it that you’re talking about me.”
“But you won’t tell?”
“How about I show?” But he made no move even to unbutton his shirt.
So Harry kissed him. Then he slipped from his chair and kneeled between Geoff’s knees. They started on the kitchen floor and eventually wiggled to the bedroom. When Geoff was finally naked, his body was a balance of everything Harry liked. Without a spot of ink.
Geoff seemed to find Harry as fine. They skipped looking for music and ignored the fading light. Harry’s desk light was on, and they explored by its glow.
At one point, a police siren went off. “They usually don’t use them this close to the station,” Harry commented.
“It doesn’t matter. ‘Long as they’re not coming for us.”
Geoff seemed to like sucking Harry. He liked pressing the heels of his palms into Harry’s nipples. “Touch mine,” he said, “and I’ll give you the family business.”
So Harry lay Geoff on his back then propped his head on a pillow. Then he slowly worked his fingertips on Geoff’s chest.
“Oh, God,” Geoff whispered.
Harry fingers also found other places that made Geoff sigh. But nothing worked as well as his nipples.
“I think I discovered them when I was eight,” Geoff confided. “Long before I knew about my dick. I used to push my pajama top up and brush my chest against the satin on my blankets. You know the edge? It was absolute heaven.”
“And they tie straight to your cock, don’t they?”
“You saw that?” Geoff said, grinning. “Most guys aren’t as quick. But, yeah, I found that out when I started sprouting hair.”
There wasn’t a lot of it on his body, and it was all brownish-blond. A bit on his belly. A little on his chest. More between his legs.
“You really are gorgeous,” Harry told him.
Geoff laughed. “It’s the light.”
Harry’s desk lamp was an old hanging fixture with a thick milk glass shade. “Where’d you get it?” Geoff wanted to know.
“A barn, somewhere in southern Illinois. It wasn’t even an antique shop. I’d gone there with a friend, to look at a couch. The light was covered with cobwebs. Guy gave it to me for five bucks.”
“It’s good for drafting?”
“I mostly do that by computer. But it’s good for conversation.”
Geoff laughed. Harry was lying next to him on the bed, and they rolled toward each other. This is how it should be, Harry thought. Absolutely easy.
“You’re pretty good-looking yourself,” Geoff went on. “Maybe it’s a magic lamp.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Harry joked. “Rub it, and win enough to finally build my house.”
“That what you want most?”
Harry hadn’t thought about his house for a while. He’d been focused on dating. But there was a naked man in his bed, and he guessed some etiquette was involved.
“It would be nice to build the house,” he admitted. “But I don’t mean to not be thinking of you.”
Geoff kissed Harry.
“And what would you wish for?” Harry asked.
“Not you,” Geoff also allowed. “I don’t mean to offend, and I’m not getting back at you. But we barely know each other.”
“Don’t worry.”
“It’s weird though, considering how comfortable I feel.”
“Me, too.”
And they both laughed.
“But what would I want?” Geoff repeated. Then he was silent.
When the silence continued, Harry said, “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t mean to get personal. Whatever it is, I hope you get it.”
“Ain’t gonna happen,” Geoff said, smiling.
“You never know.”
“I do, unfortunately.” And he went silent again.
Harry thought for a moment. “Straight?” he asked, carefully. “Is that what you’d like to be?”
Geoff shrugged it off. “Nah, I accepted that long ago. Even prefer it this way. I really like guys.”
“So do I.”
“But there’s one guy -- a guy who’s straight -- and maybe... sometimes... I wish he weren’t. Though that’s a selfish thing to say. Besides, if I got one wish, I wouldn’t let them stop there.”
Harry said nothing. He pictured some bland twenty-year-old Geoff had met dancing. Then he joked as much.
“I’m not that shallow,” Geoff joked back. “If I’m gonna make myself crazy, it’s not gonna be over some kid.”
Harry didn’t ask who it was, but Geoff told him.
“It’s Igor, of course. Most fucked-up guy I know.”
It took a moment for Harry to place ‘Igor.’ “Your assistant?” he asked. “The rude one?” Harry was amazed.
“He’s a painter,” Geoff explained. “A pretty good one. Trained. Good schools. Degrees and everything. Only makes furniture to distract himself.”
Geoff hesitated.
“You should see his studio,” he went on. “It’s in the same building as my shop. That’s how we got to be friends. Huge self-portraits. Defiantly naked. Completely grotesque.”
Harry didn’t know what to say.
“First time I saw one... the first time he let me see one... it was like staring at tormented babies. And how do you react to that?”
Harry didn’t know.
“I’m not sure where he finds it in him to paint like that,” Geoff continued. “I couldn’t. But you can’t imagine their power.”
Harry could only say, “I’d have to see them.”
“He knows he needs help,” Geoff went on. “At least on some level. But he won’t get it. Just refuses.”
Harry was still trying to re-imagine Igor. He couldn’t, but knew he had to say something. “Have you known him long?”
Geoff gestured aimlessly. “Six or seven years. He works for me a while, then quits, but he never goes far away. And he knows I’ll always hire him back.”
“Why?”
“‘Cause he can see right through me.”
“And that’s why you hire him?”
“Some. More because he needs to be around people.”
Harry worked to figure that out.
“It really has nothing to do with sex,” Geoff assured him. “I told you – it’s never gonna happen between us. He wants women as much as I want guys.”
Harry wondered.
“He usually gets women, too,” Geoff continued. “Interesting ones. They fall for him, then he fucks it up and skulks off and hides in his studio... practically paints in the dark.”
Harry tried to imagine that.
“He sleeps on the floor. Forgets to eat. Forgets to wash. I finally force him to open his door by showing up with pizza, and he skarfs that down. When he finishes a painting, he calls his agent.”
“He’s got one?”
“Oh, yeah. Good one, too. New York.”
“The paintings sell?”
“Almost always. The one thing he doesn’t need is money. Still, there’s part of his work that completely embarrasses him. He knows who buys his paintings. Rich gay men. He’s hanging naked in a dozen fancy bedrooms.”
Harry laughed.
“Of course, every time he finishes a painting, there’s a show. And he goes to a gallery, and meets some woman, and the whole thing starts again.”
Geoff just stopped.
“Can he paint without hating himself?” Harry finally asked.
“You’re not the first person who’s wanted to know.”
“But he knows how you feel about him?”
“He says that’s not his problem.”
“Maybe it’s one thing that’s not.”
Geoff only shrugged. “At least I know, but it’s not just me. The first time I saw him, I was with Sheila. She said, ‘You wouldn’t mind if I fuck that ape?’”
Harry didn’t feel the same way..
“Of course, she didn’t,” Geoff went on. “But one of us should have. But we were married and didn’t want to mess that up.”
He hesitated before continuing.
“And I think... for me... it goes way beyond sex. I just somehow want to fix the guy... straighten out all his problems. Then I want him be grateful.”
This was out of Harry’s range, and he quickly said so.
“Yeah, well, it’s out of my range, too,” Geoff admitted, laughing. “I’m just a carpenter...”
“You’re more than that...
“A do-gooding carpenter... A cocksucking, do-gooding carpenter...”
And they laughed.
“What can you do?” Harry asked, helplessly. He didn’t really mean Geoff to answer, but he did.
“I’ll do what I’ve done since I’ve known him -- make sure he’s okay. He doesn’t depend on me. There are plenty of other people around. But he’s told me -- more than once -- ‘You’re the one person I know who’ll always find me. You’re the one I’d want to cut me down if I ever manage to hang myself.’”
“Could he?”
“I hope not.”
As Harry considered, Geoff slowly reached for him. They kissed, and then gently picked up from before. They had all kinds of sex, all through the evening. Sometimes talking. Sometimes joking. Finally, they slept.
Geoff woke Harry near five. “Gotta go,” he whispered. “Gotta work.”
“Call me,” Harry said.
“Oh, yeah. We live way too close not to be friends.”
Harry nodded.
“And sorry for beating myself up,” Geoff went on. “But thanks for listening. Sheila’s been the only one who’s known all the pieces. She must be tired of hearing them.”
He kissed Harry, sitting on the edge of the bed, his thumb gently nudging Harry’s chest. For a moment, they looked into each other’s eyes. Then Geoff left.
And Harry lay in bed, the sheets all tangled around him smelling of almond oil. Thinking, “And now I’m supposed to sleep.”