A New Road © 2019
By David Lee
Michael Martin was exhausted. The past two years had been a never-ending roller-coaster ride but not the ordeal was over. Since the funeral, he'd slept 12 hours a night and taken naps in the daytime to boot. He hadn't shaved in several day. He hadn't showered either.
January in Iowa had been bleak and cold. He'd had no desire to go out of the house, and no reason to either. Perhaps things would look up in the spring.
This morning, he woke up feeling like himself again. He showered, trimmed his facial hair to a short, scruffy look, and styled his hair. Appraising his reflection in the large mirror on the bathroom door, he smiled.
At 57, he looked 20 years younger. He weighed almost exactly what he had 30 years ago, and he'd kept his body toned by regular exercise. He was ready to meet the world again. This time, he would take the path nature had intended for him, rather than the one society had dictated.
"Michael, darling, you're looking wonderful. I think you should start dating again, maybe hit the club scene," his mother offered her unsolicited advice as she helped him sort Cynthia's things.
"You don't think it's too soon?"
"Some would say so, but I'm sure she hadn't been a wife to you for the past couple of years at least. I know you wouldn't have forced yourself on her, and I know men have needs."
"Um, you're right, Mom, but don't you think that's a little personal?"
"Remember, I'm the one who changed your diapers and washed your stained sheets in your teenage years."
"MOTHER!"
"Well, it's true. When you get to be my age, lots of subjects aren't taboo anymore," she laughed.
"Yeah, lots of older people seem to lose the part of their brain that filters what they're thinking from what they blurt out," he chided.
"Let's be politically correct and say that senior citizens tend to speak their minds. Time is shorter now, and we don't have the leisure to beat around the bush."
"Okay, Mother, I'll take your advice and go out and get laid!"
"Good for you, Son. And if you think you're shocking me with how you phrased it, let me remind you that you wouldn't exist if your father and I hadn't had sex, and STD rates are high in retirement communities. Your generation didn't invent sex."
Michael had "made the club scene" a week after his mother's pep talk. It might or might not have been what she'd had in mind. It was a gay bar about 90 miles away, and he'd rented a motel room so he wouldn't have to make a long drive home late at night. It would also be available if he got lucky. He still wasn't sure if he wanted to.
The place was louder than he'd expected, but there was a small lounge-like area which was quieter. It seemed to be the refuge of the older guys, but there was less eye-candy.
One white-haired man offered to buy him a drink, but Michael declined. He wouldn't have minded a free drink but suspected there'd be strings attached.
Before long, a few twinks wandered in, evidently looking for someone to ply them with alcohol. Michael rightly assumed some were seeking a sugar daddy. The white-haired guy latched onto one of them, and the two left together after they'd finished their drinks.
Over the course of an hour and a half, Michael received several offers. One man wanted to show off his lace panties. Another fantasized about sharing Michael with his partner. Someone else offered to screw Michael all night long – if he had a place to host.
Michael went to his room alone.
The night hadn't been a total waste of time because it helped clarify his thinking. He wasn't looking for a one-night stand. He didn't want to participate in an orgy or make love to a man in women's undies. If he was going to find a relationship, it wasn't likely to happen at a gay nightclub. Perhaps it wouldn't happen at all. Maybe it was too soon to try. Possibly it was too late to find a soulmate.
Sleep often evaded him as he relived the events of the past several months. The visitation and memorial service for his wife remained a kind of blur in his mind. Her death had been expected for months and he'd had time to prepare, but one is never totally ready for it when it comes.
Cynthia had been practical and unemotional when she'd made her wishes known before the disease took her rational mind. Her body was deeded to the university's medical school in the hopes that it could aid scientists in finding a cure for the Alzheimer's which had afflicted her prematurely.
Her service was a simple celebration of her life, featuring words and songs from the amateur musical performances she'd been active in, sung by her colleagues. It was a tribute to the life she'd lived before the dread illness had taken her memory.
Of course, there were scripture readings and prayers as well as a short homily by the pastor.
Michael remembered bits of it at times just before falling asleep at night.
Choosing to care full-time for his life-partner had meant early retirement for him as well as her. He had put in his 30 years of teaching, so his pension was good.
Cynthia, also a teacher, had taken the retirement option which didn't pay out a lot for her but would benefit her husband after she died. With the combined incomes, investments, and insurance policies, Michael would be comfortable, financially. The only drain on his income was health-insurance premiums since he wasn't old enough for Medicare. But, the dividends from investments would take up the slack without causing him any pain.
Michael had been touched by the high number of his former students, as well as hers, who had come to the visitation and/or funeral. It had been almost overwhelming but had been comforting at the same time. Some of them looked as old as he did. Of course, he'd been only five or six years older than the seniors from his first year of teaching. But, somehow, he'd expected them to remain as they were then - frozen in time.
One who particularly stood out in his mind was Darrin Black. Darrin had been an adorable boy, and still retained a lot of his youthful charm. It would be interesting to catch up on each other's lives when they had lunch next week on Ground Hog's day.
"Mr. Martin, it's so nice to actually talk to you again."
"Same here, Darrin. Thanks for taking time off to eat with me, and please call my "Michael." It's been many years since we had a student/teacher relationship."
"Thanks, Michael. I always have difficulty appearing overly familiar with my former instructors."
"You shouldn't. We don't have to maintain a formal distance anymore."
"I remember we always addressed you by your surname or `Mr. M,' and you were always polite in return. I think the school was paranoid that young teachers and their students might indulge in some, uh, indiscreet relationships if we became too close."
"I don't think many teens had any desire to `know me' in the biblical sense," Michael shook his head, grinning.
"What about Jennifer Sayer?"
"Um, yes, she did tend to flirt a lot, but she did it with everyone."
(Their conversation was interrupted while their orders were taken, and it was a few minutes before they continued the thread.)
"I think Jennifer had been molested and was overcompensating," Michael frowned. "I probably shouldn't spread rumors, but that was what people said after she committed suicide."
"I'd heard the same rumors. But she wasn't the only one who lusted for you. Several girls, and a few boys, would have loved to know you better."
"Now you've piqued my curiosity. Do you know that for a fact?"
"Yes, I do. You'd be surprised at what students tell each other about who they're lusting over."
"Yes, I guess I am!"
"Not to change the subject, but I remember you had a love for classical music and jazz."
"You have a good memory."
"There's a fine vocal jazz group at the community college and they're doing a Valentine's concert on Friday night. I was wondering if you'd like to go. My son's in it, and I'd love for you to hear him."
"Thanks! I'd be pleased to attend. What time should I meet you there?"
"It starts at 7:30, but I'll be happy to pick you up. Perhaps I could swing by around 5:45 and we could have dinner in the school's restaurant before the performance. We'll go Dutch, so no one feels the need to do a payback."
"That sounds delightful. I know the place is excellent because it's connected to the culinary school. I haven't been there in a couple of years. I'll be looking forward to it.
At 6:00 PM, the two men were seated in the lovely atmosphere enjoying a cocktail. Their orders had been taken by a handsome young man who was well trained in how to treat guests. He would certainly get good tips.
Darrin knew the kid by name, and Michael wondered about their apparent intimacy. The answer to his unspoken question was soon forthcoming.
"Isn't Aden delightful? I just love him! I suspect he may become my son-in-law someday. Dave and he have dated since their junior year in high school. I didn't think it would last, but fortunately I was wrong.
"
"If he's as nice as he appears, I'd say your son is a lucky young man."
"I'm really happy you feel that way."
Dinner had been wonderful, and Michael hoped his full tummy wouldn't make him sleepy at the concert. The moment it began, the performance was lively enough to have kept Rip Van Winkle awake.
Darrin's son, David Black, was the lead tenor and had a wonderful voice. Not only was he sure of his notes and timing, but his stage presence was magnetic. Michael was blown away.
At the end, the performers received a well-deserved standing ovation. It was started by none other than a university professor who was a composer and local music critic. If he was impressed, it was proof positive that the group's quality was even above and beyond the estimation of their proud parents.
After the show, lots of friends and family went to the hall near the stage entrance to greet the singers. Darrin hugged his son and then introduced him to Michael.
"Wow, it's nice to meet you," Dave exclaimed. "Dad said you inspired his love of jazz. Without your influence, I might not have been on this stage tonight. I'm honored you came."
"The pleasure's all mine. You guys are awesome. I'm embarrassed to admit I didn't know much about this program until now. I'll have to come to all your concerts."
"Thanks! Dad would love it. He thinks you walk on water."
Darrin blushed rather profusely at his son's comments. Michael wondered if he was reading too much into the reaction.
A week later, Michael thought it would be good to reciprocate and invite Darrin to a symphony concert, since the man had expressed an interest in classical music, and Michael had season tickets. He'd kept their seats each year despite not being able to attend very often after Cynthia's condition worsened. He'd considered it his contribution to the arts and had given tickets away to former colleagues often. Now, he was free to use them again.
Darrin was pleased to get out. As a single parent during his son's last two years of high school, he'd become kind of a homebody – saving his nights out to attend events his boy was involved in. As his son became more independent, he too had more freedom of movement.
As the men had done before, they went to dinner early enough to enjoy a leisurely meal ahead of the concert. This time, they dined at a rather pricey restaurant atop the newly refurbished hotel in the center of the city only a few blocks from the concert hall.
Dinner was good, but it didn't quite live up to the hype and the cost. It suffered to an extent in comparison to the student-run operation at the junior college.
The concert was first-rate. The orchestra played "Der Rosenkavalier" flawlessly.
Michael couldn't remember a better rendition of the Strauss overture, though he'd heard it numerous times by various orchestras.
During intermission, Michael was greeted by several people he'd not seen much in recent years. It was heartening to be remembered.
A young pianist played Prokofiev's "Piano Concerto #2" in the second half of the program. She was also outstanding. The final notes had scarcely died away when the audience rose quickly to their feet, applauding enthusiastically.
Michael invited Darrin home with him for a bit of Bailey's over ice. Darrin was pleased to accept. He followed Michael's car rather closely since he wasn't very familial with the neighborhood where his host lived.
The men sat in the family room in front of the gas-log fireplace. The warm atmosphere combined with low lighting and the pleasant creamy drink helped to dispel the chill of the dreadful winter which seemed to be endless.
"I can't remember a colder February in my life!" Darrin exclaimed. "Even 20 years ago when my father was dying, it didn't seem this bad."
"Interesting you should say that. I've felt the same. Of course, I figured my outlook was influenced by death. Perhaps it was, but you didn't have that to color your emotions this year."
"Nope. And I'm well over my divorce by now. Honestly, it was best for everyone. Jennifer couldn't accept David's orientation. If she'd have stayed in the house, it might have driven our son to suicide.
"He needed a parent to love and support him, and I took on that job."
"Was it difficult?"
"Not really. I have a lot of empathy for him. I truly understand his feelings."
"You said "empathy" rather than "sympathy." Was that intentional?"
"Yes. You always were good at picking up shades of meaning. I know in my heart David's attraction to other males. That's why I could say with authority when I mentioned that some boys, as well as girls, had a crush on you."
"So, you were attracted to me?"
"I was, and am."
"Are you flirting with me, Darrin?"
"I suppose I must be. Sorry, it's probably the effects of the lovely evening and the alcohol."
"No apology necessary. It's good to feel I might still be attractive to someone on some level."
"I should probably get going," Darrin said as he arose. "The weather's supposed to get very nasty tonight. Thank God David's safely in Des Moines with Aden and his family for a long weekend."
"Look outside," Michael said. "It's beginning to sleet. Why don't you pull your car in the garage and stay the night?"
"You're inviting me to sleep here after hearing my confession?"
"Yes. If you stay, I'll give you the option of using one of the chilly guest bedrooms or sharing my warm king-sized bed."
"Oh, wow! I don't know what to say."
"Say `yes.' I'm not ready to throw myself headlong into an affair with another man. I find you attractive, but I promise to keep my hands to myself. I would, however, really enjoy cuddling with you. That is, if you're willing to try it with no strings attached. If we both enjoy it, we could continue and see where it leads. If either of us doesn't feel comfortable, we'll shake hands and part as friends tomorrow."
"Okay, I'll stay the night."
Michael awoke with a smile on his face. The night had been exactly what he'd hoped it would be. The men had showered in separate bathrooms and met back at Michael's bed clad in sleep shorts he'd provided.
Initially, they'd both lain on their backs, holding hands. But, at Michael's invitation, Darrin had laid his head on his former teacher's chest and they'd snuggled in that arrangement until sleep overtook them.
Naturally, they'd changed positions several times during the night. Each time, they managed to end up intertwined in some way or other.
In the gray light of dawn, Michael studied the face of his sleeping companion. In his relaxed state, he looked a lot like he had in is innocent teen years. In short, he was adorable. Michael wondered how long he could keep his hands-off promise.
Darrin woke up smiling too. He stretched and yawned before planting a kiss on Michael's cheek.
"I'd like to shake your hand, but not as a prelude to parting. I vote we continue to see each other."
"I agree, so that makes it unanimous."
"Oh crap! I'm due at church in 45 minutes for warmups for choir," Darrin exclaimed.
"Better look outside before you panic, or else check your messages."
Darrin hunted for his phone. The latest message was from the choir director saying that the service and all other activities had been called off for the day. Darrin breathed a sigh of relief.
"Should we still look outside?" he asked.
Michael opened the cellular window shade and felt the cold radiating from the glass.
"Wow, we're inside one of those snow-globe things you shake up!" He exclaimed.
The effect of the huge flakes coming down was intensified by a strong westerly wind, creating white-out conditions at times. If this kept up much longer, the whole town could shut down for days.
A quick look at the local TV's website confirmed their suspicions. Schools and many businesses were already cancelling for Monday. Darrin was a free man for the foreseeable future.
"This has turned out to be quite the evening affair." Darrin observed. "First dinner and a concert, then a sleepover, and gourmet breakfast. Thank you very much!"
"You're welcome. I don't know that eggs, bacon, and waffles qualify as haute cuisine, but I'm glad you liked it. It looks like you're stuck with my cooking for a day or two at least."
"And, you're stuck with me. Sorry about that."
"Having you here certainly isn't a hardship! You may get bored with my company after a while."
"No chance. Perhaps we could, um, use the opportunity to get better acquainted," Darrin suggested, blushing.
As the men stood up, the bulges in their shorts sent the message neither of them had found the courage to voice. When Michael took Darrin into his arms, their lips confirmed what their bodies were communicating.
Leaving their breakfast dishes on the table, they walked hand in hand back to the bedroom.
--------------------------------End-----------------------------------
Author's notes: Thanks to Boxerdude for doing a quick edit on this tale. Thanks to Nifty for providing this free venue.
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
If you like this story and wish to communicate with me, please do so at dlee169@hotmail.commailto:dlee169@hotmail.com and I will do my best to answer. I have another address at Yahoo that I'll be using to alert readers to new postings, but this one will remain active.
This is a one-shot item. There will be NO further chapters.
Thanks,
David