Lion's Lair - 13. Independence and Bonding

Where has the month gone?

Since Ryan and I did the World War II museum, it seems we’ve both been on the run, and yet I can’t point to any one thing as a major time-eater.

Of course, Ryan and I continued to have great times together; in fact, I’m comfortable enough that I’m soon going to ask him to move in. Although we only met a little over three months ago, and only made a commitment to each other a couple of months ago, the timing feels right. I just need to open up a little more with him—or wait and see if he passes the litmus test for my secret’s reveal.

Ryan’s now spending three or four nights a week at my place. He’s brought over casual clothes, but those are for the next day when he goes in late to work and works until close, or to just throw something on to hit the gym. He’s yet to go to work directly from my place.

I’m not pushing him on moving in, though, even though he knows it’s an option. “My lease isn’t up for another six months or so, and I can’t afford to break it. Even though the apartment building is fully leased, and they could lease my place out for more, I’d still have the entire remaining lease amount due upon moveout. Greedy bastards. I’m not doing that—I’m too much of a tightass for that.” His good-natured smile lets me know it’s something he’s thought through.

“What if I ….”

Ryan’s sunny smile instantly goes stern. “Nope. I don’t expect you to do that Clayton, and I’m not having it. It’s insane to pay that kind of money, and you’re not doing it. I pay my own way. So we’ll go on like we are now—besides, it almost seems like you’re having an affair, with me drifting in and out, so it only makes things more exciting, right?” His smile is back as he leans in for a kiss. “We’re doing great; we’ll just play it out and let the lease die a natural death.”

One test passed.

While at the bar the Saturday after our museum trip, I mentioned the baby shower for Jenay and Dixie. Barry had already sent out the invitations to everyone on the bar’s email list, threatening social death if anyone spilled the beans to either lady about the party. “So have you thought about what you’re giving, Barry?” I’m not that good at gift giving on things like this, so maybe he’ll provide me insights.

“Figure every parent needs all the diapers they can get; kids go though ‘em fast. So I’ve already gone to the warehouse club, and bought a couple of ‘bales’ of ‘em. That’s like 500 diapers per bail.” He’s right, but, ….

“That’s a lot of diapers!”

“Clayton, that’ll do ‘em maybe the first couple or three months. Kids shit all the time when they’re that age, so they’ll go through 10 or 12 a day. Trust me, they’ll need ‘em.” Barry grins a self-satisfied smile; he’s thought about this.

“What’s Dave getting them?”

“Hell, Bubba’s being closed-mouth on this one. He originally talked about getting one of those combo baby carriers/car seats, then said he had another idea. Won’t tell me shit. Said they’d love it, though.” Barry’s twinkling eyes say he’s as much amused by Dave’s secretiveness as he is frustrated by not knowing. “What are you guys getting?”

“I don’t know. Ryan and I are going to explore the French Quarter tomorrow, maybe do a little shopping there, see if something pops out. Any suggestions?”

“Nope, you’re on your own, guys. Hell, if the best I could come up with was diapers, you think I’m any good with this shit?” He’s laughing, Ryan, too, but all in all, it’s actually a nice gift he’s giving.

Our trip to the Quarter the next day has us casually cruising through the Quarter after Sunday Brunch at Galatoire’s. It’s an old family/old money restaurant in the Quarter, established in 1905, and is Michelin Guide rated. Now the fifth generation of the founders are involved in its operation. Excellent food, superb service, understated surroundings. Dressy enough that we both pulled on sport coats when leaving the car to get ready for a great brunch. I didn’t let him see or know the total of the check, though; why ruin a relaxing Sunday brunch over money—I know he’d have something to say about it.

Yeah, I love his independence—including his desire to be his own man financially.

We’d been able to navigate pretty easily through that old section of New Orleans, thanks to projects after Hurricane Katrina that’d redone the sidewalks in many places to install brick pavers that present a level surface, and handicapped-accessible curbs that Ryan maneuvered through easily.

We passed by one of the many shops on Royal Street on our way to the French Market to do beignets and coffee for desert at Café Du Monde, when we passed a shop whose windows were filled with handcrafted wood items—bowls, a couple of serving trays, candlesticks, and photos of handcrafted furniture.

“Let’s check this place out.” Ryan’s already pushing the shop’s door open to roll in as he speaks.

There’s my Marine’s “can do” attitude.

Inside is the smell of sawdust with wood so finely finished it glows. We’re browsing around, looking at a variety of things inside a display case; matching pen and pencil sets each carved from a single piece of Brazilian rosewood, belt buckles with varieties of wood making a scene—one showed a waterfall in the hills, with the cliff face strata in different woods, bleached birch for the sky, and the waterfall in mother of pearl—and an immaculately filigreed brooch looking like it’d been cut by a laser Spirograph with a matching “pearl” necklace, both made of bloodwood.

“Can I help you?” A stocky, redhead, red-bearded man with a winning smile stepped out from behind the showroom. “I’m Kelly. Anything special you’re looking for?”

“Hi! We’re just browsing, but we’ve got a baby shower coming up, so we’re open to suggestions. Anything you can think of that immediately jumps to mind as a great gift?” Ryan’s obviously a direct shopper—not a browser.

“What price point are you thinking about?” After Kelly’s question, Ryan looks at me apparently not having thought that much about price. I shrug my shoulders—when it’s right, I’ll know it.

“We’re open on that, too—not unlimited, but reasonably priced.” Ryan’s description is as good as any.

“Is the shower for a little boy? A little girl?

“A little girl. And their moms are two very special ladies. They’ve just bought a house, so we can get pretty much anything—think they need it all.”

Kelly starts to move to a shelf on the far wall, then stops. “Actually, there is a piece, it’s not done yet so it’s not here in the showroom. In fact, was just working on it. And, it’s unfinished, so you can select the finish you want on it. Hang on a sec, lemme go get it.” He disappears into the back room again.

He’s out in just a couple of minutes, carrying a beautiful rocking chair up against his chest as he comes back and works his way past a display counter to sit it in front of Ryan. It’s high-backed, with simple lines that look great—not overly ornate, in fact, almost contemporary. The slats on the back between the bottom of the back’s crossbar up to the wide headrest board on top make a sinuous curve, and he’s matched their grain to make a consistent pattern in the tiger-striped wood.

“This was a custom piece I was making for a client in Uptown, and they backed out this past week. I’m almost done with it, just needs some final sanding, and the finish. It’s Zebrano wood, all tongue-and groove seat, and I turned the side spindles myself.” Kelly’s put a lot of work into this piece—and it shows. It’s sanded to the feel of silk, and the wood’s graining is striking.

“What’s Zebrano wood? And how’d you get those back slats to curve?” Ryan’s stroking the chair with fingertips, obviously as impressed as I am with this guy’s craftsmanship.

“It’s a very dense, very stable wood from Africa. It gets its name from the zebra-like stripes in the grain. And, as for the slats, I’ve got a wood kiln at home, so I use both steam and pressure to mold the back slats into an ergonomic shape.” Kelly knows his stuff.

“The only thing left to do is to glue a sheet of fiber-reinforced wood underneath the seat to stabilize it—the tongue and groove tends to separate slightly over time with use—and then put whatever finish you want on it. I wanted it to be the kind of chair passed from generation to generation, so I guess I’ve gone a little overboard with it.”

“Man, this is great!” Ryan’s eyes are dancing around the chair as he speaks, taking in the workmanship evident, and Kelly’s proud of it, too; he’s obviously spent a ton of time on this one project.

“Ok, here’s the million-dollar question: How much for this incredible chair?” Ryan’s not so much negotiating as curious.

“Well … I’d settled on a price with the previous buyer, but since they backed out, and I got to keep their deposit, which covered the materials costs, really all I’ve got in it is my labor. I’ve worked on it enough, I’m ready to move on to another project. How about $350.00?”

“Ok, give us a minute to chat, ok?” Ryan turns to me as Kelly steps away, heading to the shop in back to give us some privacy. “That’s really more than what I’d thought about spending. Whatdaya say about us going in together on it, splitting the cost?”

“I’m totally fine with it—it’s a gorgeous chair, and worth every penny and more. But since it’s not what’d you’d thought about spending, I’ll get it, and you can find something that you’re more comfortable with, budget-wise.”

Ryan’s jaw sets—and I know I’ve lost out on this. “Clayton, it’s perfect, they’ll need something to help get the baby to sleep, it’ll last for years, it’s gorgeous, and if we decide on it, I’m going in on half of it. I just need to get some money from the ATM or we can get him to split it in half, and I’ll put it on my debit card. So there. That’s settled.”

Obstinate bastard. Yeah, I’m crazy about this guy.

“Ok, you win. I see you’ve made up your mind.”

“Yup. Kelly?” Kelly apparently was just behind the door since he appeared almost as soon as Ryan called. He’s smiling, and apparently overheard at least some of the conversation. I’m sure we sounded like an old married couple, so his humor at the situation was certainly justified.

We tell him we’ll take it, he shows us a variety of finishes and makes a recommendation which we take since it includes at least a couple of coats of satin polyurethane to protect it. “I’ll get Dave to pick it up in his truck one day, just let us know when you’re ready, Kelly.” Ryan passes his debit card to him, and asks him to split it between us, and he does with no problems.

We spent the rest of the afternoon just loafing through the French Quarter and the French Market, checking out the small shops, grabbing fresh screwdrivers in the French Market later it the afternoon. It was a laid-back Sunday.

The other thing remarkable in the month is that Ryan has gotten fitted with a temporary socket for his interim new legs, and has started therapy with the goal of getting into his new permanent legs as soon as possible after taking care of the bone spur issue.

He’s continued with his regular gym workouts, but now drives into the city a couple of times a week to do his sessions with the therapist. And, apparently, the therapy is intense and he’s pushing himself hard; he’s come to my house on a few nights after he’s met with them, bone tired. He’ll flop on the sofa, and it’s all I can do to get him up for dinner or get him to move to the bed. But his goal of walking is a driving force—I get the feeling there’s nothing at this point that will slow him down from that. Plus, he’s got a doctor’s appointment the first of the month right after the 4^th of July holiday to follow through on the bone spurs’ removal.

The other thing that’s happened regularly is that Dave would call with an update on the Ben/Benoit situation. “They’re working on it, they’re getting closer, just hang on, it’ll get done.” As much as I appreciate the every-week-or-ten-day updates, it’s still an ever-present weight. Things were so bad when I talked with Ben—and I’ve not been about to get an update from him since our lunch last month—I’m afraid we may be too late. And yet, there’s really nothing to be done but wait, and rely on Dave’s contacts.

Ryan’s been supportive on all of that, too, never feeling threatened, always asking how I’m doing with all of it. And he’s made it clear he totally trusts Dave to follow through on things. His bond of confidence in Dave is resolute.

The month has been busy with work for both Ryan and me. Ryan had a banner month at the dealership, and was “salesman of the month”. My client threw a new project at me, and the initial prep work to handle gearing up the engineering team to a planned update and addition to the future Mars habitat required much work, not only in planning for the engineering efforts, but selection of appropriate people for my team. So we’d both been slammed.

We did manage to get in the following Sunday noon and a few hours after with Barry and Dave. They’d invited us up to do steaks at lunch, and to play for a couple of hours on the jet skis on the river behind their place.

We all took turns on the skis, and had a great time. Dave and Ryan were like little boys with new toys, and they were not at all excited about leaving the river for something as mundane as lunch. And after lunch, we just kicked back, relaxed, still damp in our swim trunks from a fun time on the water.

Barry mentioned that things were going well for the baby shower, and he’d found a great gift from the bar to our friends. He wouldn’t say what the gift was, just smiled and said, “You’ll see.”

“See how he is? He’s like a damn bulldog, he digs in, and doesn’t let go. Wait till you see what this baby shower looks like.” Dave’s laughing as he kids Barry.

“Ok, so that’s where your nickname comes from, Barry. So how’d you get your nickname, Bubba?” Ryan’s looking at Dave as he asks.

Barry chimed in. “Oh, that one’s easy. He moved here from Texas—and he’s the only man I know with a hat rack in his truck.” He’s almost giggling as he says it. “Seriously, a hat rack.” He explains how it works with wild hand gestures. “And he’s got a boot collection. Hell, he’s definitely a ‘Bubba’.”

Everyone’s laughing as Dave has a smile and something of a chagrined look as he pushes back the brim of his “Ford” baseball cap.

Barry mentioned that business at the bar was picking up, and he’d have another bar party in a couple of weeks for the 4^th of July. “Think we’re also getting some folks I’d rather not have there.” Barry’s face showed his unhappiness. “The nasty bikers that were in last month were back last weekend, but they’d left before I got there and had a chance to coach ‘em on proper bar behavior. I’ll catch up with ‘em soon, though.”

Another fun, if busy Sunday.

The month was also memorable for a couple of other reasons. First, my body decided to catch up with my lust, and I finally gave Ryan the fuck he wanted. We took our time, and it became a true love-making session that lasted over the course of a Saturday afternoon well into the evening. I wish it’d happened earlier, but the side-effects of “the little blue pill” are enough I have to wait for my body sometimes. And it was definitely worth the wait.

It was also that same night that Ryan fucked me. It’d been since my late lover died that I’d had anal sex, so it was something of a challenge for me, physically. But Ryan made it work well, and quite frankly, I think it both renewed his confidence in himself to top me, and God knows the whole session was a bonding element for both of us. Although sex isn’t the end-all/be-all in a relationship, it certainly does help add to the day-to-day intimacy!

Yes, we both slept satisfied and well that night.

We got to the bar for the baby shower on the last Saturday of this month, and the place was packed; there were maybe one hundred or so there. Drinks were flowing, everyone having a good time with Bryant behind the bar.

We were greeted at the door by Dave. “Barry went to pick up Jenay and Dixie. Told ‘em he had something he wanted to get their opinion on here on the patio. He’ll call when he heads this way, so be prepared to move to the patio when I announce it to the bar. I’m on his speed dial, so he can signal me quickly without letting them know. So come on in, grab a drink; we’re gonna have fun with this.”

We grabbed our drinks, and headed to the patio, not waiting on the crowd. It looked like someone had thrown up Pepto-Bismol out there. Whoever decorated it had gotten a bright pink—and used it to cover everything. Overhead, a banner was stretched out, bright pink lettering on a blue background, “Welcome Baby!” There was also a screen set up off to one side, perhaps hiding a table of gifts on it. A decorated folding banquet table held platters of nibbles.

The bar’s door opened and everyone piled onto the open patio space, and got pretty quiet, ready to yell “surprise” when the ladies got there. Within five minutes, Barry led the way through, talking loudly, “I think you’ll like what we’ve done here, but you need to tell me.” With that he stepped aside, Jenay and Dixie stepped out, we all yelled “Surprise!”—and the couple promptly burst into tears. Happy tears, and obviously the surprise was genuine.

Barry took over as MC, the bar provided champagne to toast the soon-to-be arrival of the new baby. Again, Jenay and Dixie were moved to tears.

Finally, Barry announced it was time for the gift opening, and got Dave to help him move the screen. A folding banquet table had been set up, draped in more of that hot-pink, loaded with a variety of sizes of wrapped gifts. Off to one side was a lump of something or other—big and some odd contours—covered in a sheet.

The ladies attacked the gifts, and the crowd oohed, ooh-ed, and aww-ed appropriately. And they got some great stuff. Barry’s bales of diapers got both laughs and applause as he admitted it was appropriate, “coming from someone so familiar with shit from the bar.” More laughs.

Finally, when all the presents were opened, Barry grabbed the mic again. “There are lots of other folks here who didn’t know exactly what you needed, and they gave money. Their names are all on this card.” He waves the card in the air as he continued. “Ryan and Clayton found a great gift, and we used the money from your friends to get a piece that matches theirs. So…..” And with that Dave grabbed the sheet and gave a hard tug.

Ryan and I looked at each other, each of us embarrassed by the attention, and curious about the other “matching” gift.

Underneath the sheet was our rocking chair, almost glowing from its hand-rubbed finish. The companion piece was a mid-height dresser with a recessed top—a changing table plus storage for the baby. The dresser was in primarily oak, maybe, with chevron Zebrano wood inserts on the front corners and down the front of each drawer. The same finish as our chair, it was spectacular, and the crowd applauded again.

Dave had moved behind us. “When Barry and I saw your chair and how well done it was, and we knew we had the money from the folks here, we commissioned Kelly to make the chest on a rush order. He got it done in two weeks—and did a great job on it. And because of your purchase, he sold it to us for the amount we’d collected. He didn’t have time to order more of the Zebrano, and we didn’t have the money to pay for a full Zebrano dresser, so he came up with this idea. I think it looks great.”

And it did.

Barry had moved up to us as a part of his mixing through the happy crowd. “It’s a success, isn’t it? The party, I mean.” He was right. It was a success. Bulldog had dug in and done a great job of putting together a fun event.

“Dave, what’d you get ‘em? Bulldog wouldn’t tell us.” Ryan’s curiosity matched my own.

“I got ‘em a baby bottle.” Dave gave the ladies a Waterford cut-crystal baby bottle with sterling band/cap and disposable liners. “The liners protect the baby from lead in the crystal, so there’s no cleanup. And the cap can be engraved with the date of the baby’s christening.” Since both ladies are Catholic, it’s a thoughtful gift, and quite frankly, I’d not expected something so delicate from a “Bubba”. Obviously, he’s far more complex, and I’m glad we’re building a friendship with him.

Joe and Rex had been moving through the crowd, and chatted with us for a few minutes. Rex’s gift, was every bit as thoughtful. “I got them a nanny who’ll stay with the baby while they take a week off on the beach in Mexico for a break. They just have to use the vacation sometime within the next year—I suspect they’ll need a break well before then. But the vacation is all inclusive, so it won’t hurt them financially. The biggest issue is going to be getting them to let go of the baby for a week.”

“I gave ‘em that lamp; did it myself.” Joe is proud, and rightfully so—of a lamp made of welded aluminum strips of varying heights, polished to a high sheen, so it almost looks like an ice sculpture in its intricacy. The light bounces off the curved strips at different angles, and the long flat rectangular shade overhead is offset so it looks like an ice shelf suspended over mountain ranges below. “It’s got a low wattage bulb, so the light can be on without waking up the baby.” Another great gift.

Jenay and Dixie came up later, grabbed both Ryan and me, hugged us, kissed us, and thanked us profusely for the gift. “Our pleasure,” we both answered at once. Yeah, same thoughts, doing the same sentences. Guess we are an old married couple.

It’s been a busy month. At least the 4^th of July holiday weekend will be long, and give us a break.

And maybe Ryan and I can do some more “bonding”.