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AUTUMN'S LEAVE
by
Ritch Christopher
Chapter Six
At 7:00AM, the first mourners arrived. By 7:30AM, our house was filled with an unexpected crowd of grief-stricken sympathizers. My God, what time did these people get up and how did they hear about Nina so early? Jesus! I knew they all meant well, but didn't they have any sympathy for me? Why wouldn't they let me be alone in my need for solitude?
"Jim, I am so sorry," Alison McGhee said, hugging me. "Nina and I were like sisters, even before we both pledged Chi O. I loved her dearly."
"Thanks, Ali," I replied, politely feeling the need to push the picture of the young Nina back further, not letting it touch me too severely yet.
How many more hugs and well wishes could I take before going completely berserk? The phone hadn't stopped ringing a single minute since the accident. Accident...There was that word again! Nina's car crash HAD been an accident,hadn't it?, but it left so many unanswered questions that she was taking to the grave with her. Where the fuck was she going at that time of night? Her Monday night TV fare was a set pattern from which she never varied. She would often take the phone off the hook to keep "Third Watch" from being interrupted just in case Eddie Cibrian was going to be featured in that segment. Was she out trying to check up on me...or on me and Tom? Did she think I'd taken him to a motel or something, not that the idea hadn't occurred to me? The autopsy showed no sign of a myocardial infarction. There was no sign of alcohol or drugs in her system. Physically, nothing about her appeared to be abnormal. She was a specimen of good health.
My only hope of solace was the thought of Tom's comforting me. For appearance sake we couldn't show too much emotional connection, but inside I knew he would ache for my grief. How could a novice relationship grow into a family tie in such a short period of time? He was all I had now. Dammit! Nina! Why did she leave the house so late at night? She was a very careful driver. The guy whose car she hit told the investigating traffic officer that it appeared she was heading her car straight at him. There was no way in hell that Nina would have committed suicide...I mean...NOT in a car. She had sometimes jokingly said that if she ever got a terminal illness, not to be surprised if she fixed herself a Dorothy Kilgallen Cocktail, consisting of a double vodka martini and a handful of halcion on a toothpick instead of an olive. That was a painless way to go. NO! I couldn't believe Nina had intentionally crashed her car. She was either very upset about something or something had scared her into having a panic attack. She used to have them years ago, but not recently. What could have caused her so much anxiety, if THAT had been instrumental in the collision?
I was still in a state somewhere between shock and disbelief. Nina's death had not yet sunk in. I hadn't accepted it. The only sense of reality was that she was not home last night when I finally went to bed. I had dropped Tom off at his dorm and hadn't bothered to call him when I arrived home and saw the police car waiting for me to tell me the sad, sudden news. When the police finally left, I, oh, so wanted Tom to be there with me...but somehow, call it guilt or something else, I knew that if he came over, we'd wind up having sex and that would be totally disrespectful to my deceased wife. I wanted to cry. I knew I needed to cry. I also knew I was supposed to cry...but somehow the tears wouldn't come.
I had the feeling that Nina would be coming in shortly. I sat there listening for the sound of her car pulling up the driveway...but nothing. I HAD to talk with or to someone...but who? I went into the kitchen and fixed myself a double scotch and downed it swiftly, almost in one gulp. I thought about calling Dean Connelly or Dan or Bud, but I knew if I did, they would come right over and I didn't want company. Who did I know out-of-town I could call and get a few words of comfort? I thought of one person only...the priest who had married Nina and me. He was still the rector of a large church in Briarwood and we had maintained our friendship through the years via mail, phone calls, and, most recently, e-mails. He was gay and had just lost his lover suddenly, due to a quick illness. Though it was nearly midnight, I searched for the personal phone directory and found his number. I made myself another drink to steady myself before dialing his number. I took a deep breath as I awaited him to answer.
"Hello?" a voice answered, quietly.
"Cliff?" I asked in a weak voice.
"Yes."
"This is Jim...Jim Kerr."
"Hey, buddy, how are you?"
"Cliff, you know me well enough to know I'm not all right or I wouldn't be calling you at this late hour."
"Sounds serious, guy." Cliff said in a somber tone. "What's up?"
"It's Nina." That's all I could get out before the floodgate broke and all the tears I had been holding back gushed forth into the receiver of the phone. Cliff kept calling my name, but I couldn't answer. This is the first time I had come to grips with reality and accepted the fact that Nina was gone.
"Take your time, Jim. Whatever it is...I'm here," he said so comfortingly. I was glad I had called him. I wish he could drive over. HIS company I wouldn't mind, but we were separated by hundreds of miles. I guess that's why I thought it was safe to call him. Even though we didn't talk often, Nina and I both knew that Cliff was always out there...somewhere...for either or both of us. I caught my breath and gathered my composure enough to continue.
"Cliff, somehow, you're the only person I wanted to talk with...as a matter of fact, you're the ONLY person I've called. Nina was killed in a car accident tonight."
"Oh, my God, Tom! I'm so sorry," Cliff sincerely replied, his voice catching in his throat.
"I don't know all the details...just that it was a head on collision and she died instantly."
"How are YOU doing, Jim?"
"Oh, Cliff, my life is such a fucked-up mess."
"What's wrong, buddy? Spill...tell me all or anything you want. You know I'm not one to sit in judgment."
"I know that, Cliff, I suppose that's why I wanted to talk to you."
"Hey, look!" Cliff interrupted. "Would you like me to fly down to see you? I could rearrange my schedule and be there tomorrow afternoon."
"No, that's asking too much, Cliff."
"Listen, guy, you didn't ask. I'm offering."
"I could think of nothing I would like better...but...are you sure?"
"Consider it a "done-deal". I'll call and make reservations and call you back with the flight plan. Can you arrange to have someone meet me?"
"You know better than that. You know that I'll be the one to meet you. God, Cliff, I don't know what to say. I know you just lost Roger and I hate to pile my grief and troubles on top of all of yours."
"You forget...that's my chosen profession...but more important, that's why we're friends."
"But neither Nina nor I came to Roger's funeral..."
"Shh, shh, shh...don't talk about that now! I'm more concerned about you and how I can help. Would you hold while I call the airlines? I'll be right back with you."
"Sure." I was still crying but it was more controlled now. There was something about Cliff's voice that could calm the fiercest storm. I wanted to talk with him about Tom. Cliff was openly gay and he could help me understand my feelings...but mostly I wanted to expose the guilt I felt over Nina's death.
"Hey, Jim," Cliff said, returning to our conversation, "it's all set, I'll be arriving on American flight 9901 tomorrow afternoon at 4:27. Is that OK?"
"Sounds great, Cliff! I'll be there."
"See you then!"
"Cliff, I don't know how to..."
"Hush, there's plenty of time for that. Why don't you go make yourself a stiff drink and get some sleep?"
"I've already had two."
"That should be enough. Now hold onto yourself until I get there. Promise?"
"Yeah...sure."
"OK, hang in there, buddy."
"I will." I said, feeling stronger. "and Cliff..."
"Yes, pal?"
"Thanks."
"You'll be in my prayers tonight."
"Thanks, again." I said.
"I just thought of something that might put your mind to rest."
"What's that?"
"I was just thinking what a hell of a party Nina and Roger must be having!"
"You suppose they have vodka in heaven?"
"Absolutely! Otherwise, it wouldn't be heaven!"
"Good night, Cliff."
"'night, Coach!"
Maybe it was the scotch hitting my system or just Cliff's assurance, but something had allowed me to relax. I felt better and less lonely. I knew what kind of Hell I was facing tomorrow. There'd be phone calls and a stream of people offering their sincere, and some insincere, condolences. God, how I wish Tom were here with me! Funeral arrangements! Shit! Nina and I had never talked about anything like that. I suppose we figured we still had years together. I wondered if Cliff would conduct the service. Nina would have liked that. Oh, my Nina! Oh, my Tom. I realized my life was changed forever now...for the better? It was too soon to think about that. After all, Tom didn't know that Nina was dead.
Tom was slightly tipsy when Jim dropped him off at the dorm...not drunk, just pleasantly euphoric. He had been pleased to see Jim, the other coaches and the team so exuberant over the past weekend's victory. He gave a wave and a smile to Harry at the desk just before he walked up the stairs to his floor and his room. Bed would feel good. He was tired...happy...but was looking forward to a good night's sleep. He entered his room without turning on the lights. There was enough lightspill from the outside street lamp to illuminate the room. He took off his clothes and slumped down on the bed. It was only after he settled down into his favorite sleep position that he became aware of the presence of someone else in the room. He held his breath to listen for the sound of another person's breathing.
"Who's there?" Tom said, sitting up, slightly startled.
"It's me, Tom...Harm," said a voice in the dark.
"Harm? What the fuck are you doing here? The whole school's been looking for you all day...the whole weekend, to be exact."
"I've been laying low."
"Why, for God's sake?"
"Well, for starters...Sandy..."
"Shit, Harm, you didn't really kill her, did you?"
"I think so, Tom...but wait...there's more..."
"Whaddya mean?"
"I...I followed you the other night and saw you at Shoney's..."
"And...?"
"I saw who you went home with."
"God damn, Harm! You had no right to do that! Jesus!" Then a flash of horror went through Tom's mind. "Oh, dear God, NO!...The kid!...Ray!...the waiter at Shoney's...you didn't cause his accident, did you?"
"I'm not sayin'" Harm said, flatly.
"What the fuck were you thinking? What's wrong with you, for God's sake?"
Only silence met his ears.
"What's wrong with you?", he asked again, this time more quietly.
There was a long pause before Harm spoke.
"'I love you, Tom...I love you, too, Jim'...SOUND FAMILIAR?" Harm said, mockingly.
"Jesus, how did you...?"
"I was THERE...hiding on the back row of lockers. I heard...I saw...EVERYTHING!" Harm blurted out, sounding hurt.
"Look, Harm..."
"NO! YOU LOOK!" Harm interjected. "He's a married man. He's old enough to be your father!"
"So?" Tom replied, defensively.
"SO?...What about US?...YOU AND ME?"
"US?" Tom replied, strongly. "Harm, there's no US!"
"What about the other night? Right here on this bed? There was an US then."
"We had sex, Harm. That's all it was...sex!"
"It meant nothing more to you?"
"NO!"
"Well, it meant MORE to me. I killed for you, Tom! TWICE! That's how much it meant to me!"
"Oh, my God!" Tom uttered. "Are you THAT insanely jealous?"
"Maybe..."
"Who's next? The coach? Me?"
"Time'll tell," Harm said in a quiet warning manner."
"You need help, Harm. You've got to go to the police."
"They have no proof. They can't connect me to Sandy! She slipped on the ice! Remember?...And as for your waiter boyfriend...let them try blaming me with his accident! The road was slippery. He lost control of his car and slammed into a tree. I had no control over the ice in the road. That was just poor driving on his part."
"Harm, I want you to get out of here."
"You don't want to continue where we left off the other night before we found Sandy hiding beneath the bed?"
"No! I just want you to leave!"
"How 'bout a good night kiss?"
"I'm not kissing you!" Tom said, getting out of bed to face Harm.
"God, your body looks beautiful. Aren't you getting just the least bit excited?"
"I'm excited...but not sexually!
"Let me ask you something, Tom. How long have you and the coach been carrying on your affair?"
"That's none of your business!"
"It might be. I wonder what Mrs. Kerr would say if someone told her about you and her husband?"
"You wouldn't dare!!!"
"Oh, wouldn't I? Remember Hell hath no fury..."
"You say ONE word to her and I swear to God, I'll go to the police and tell them everything!"
"You'd better pay some attention to me or I'll go to the betrayed wife with a story she'll believe."
"Maybe she already knows!" Tom said.
"Damn, you're just full of surprises, Tom. The plot just gets thicker and thicker."
"Harm, if you don't leave, I'll get Harry to call campus security and have you removed...if not arrested for murder!" Tom said, again warning him.
"All right, I'll go...but remember...you never know who's watching you..."
"Is that a threat, Harm?"
"No, I'm just telling you to be careful. Strange things...bad things... can happen when you least expect them."
On that note, Harm left, closing the door quietly. Tom's body was shaking and covered with goose bumps...not from the cold, not from standing there naked ...but from nerves. He couldn't decide what to do... Call Jim to warn him? Call the police? He slept very little the rest of the night.
In the morning, Tom dressed for breakfast and hurried down the stairs to see a group of students gathered around Harry's desk. That is when he learned of Nina's death. He was dumbstruck. He replayed in his mind the conversation he'd had with Harm and remembered Harm had talked about her in the present tense...not past. She apparently hadn't had her accident when Harm was in his room....or else Harm hadn't known of it. Whatever had happened to her, hopefully , it wasn't Harm's doing. After all, Nina's accident had occurred several hours before Tom had found Harm in his room.
It was almost two miles from the dorm to Jim's house, but somehow even on a concrete surface and putting up with the traffic, Tom ran all the way there in less than ten minutes. He was a block away and saw about a dozen cars parked in front of the house or in the driveway. It looked as if every faculty member on campus had stopped by to pay his or her respects. Tom was amazed at how fast word had gotten around the campus about Nina. His one hope was that he could be alone with Jim, who must need him desperately now. He knew he had to play it cool and become just one of the many consolers. He wanted to tell Jim about the night visit from Harm, but yet, with no reason to think that Harm had caused Nina's death, Tom saw no point in bringing up the subject. He also knew he could not let on that there was more than just a student-teacher(coach) relationship between them. If news spread as fast as it appeared, the whole campus would have a field day to learn about a possible love affair going on between the admired winning coach and the star quarterback.
When Tom entered the house, Jim was standing by the mantel talking with his two assistants, Bud and Dan. Jim looked at Tom when he came through the door. It was all that either of them could do to keep from falling into each other's arms...which both of them so badly needed at the moment. Instead, a look, a glance, a warm handshake between them, and an "I'm so sorry" would have to suffice for appearance sake.
A huge banquet table had been set up by some of the faculty wives with an assortment of breakfast foods and pastries, which was customary in the ritual of mourning. The well-wishers always expected to be fed for their expression of tears and bereavement. The long string of grieving friends and co-workers approached Jim. He only wished that they would leave and let him have his "moment alone" with Tom, but it looked as if that was a fantasy.
At last Jim got free for a second and motioned for Tom to meet him in the hallway, away from the grieving herd.
"We can't talk now," Jim said, "but could you meet me here around one-thirty? Like it or not, I have to go to Simmons Funeral Home and pick out a casket and make some kind of arrangements...I'd like you to go with me if you're up to it."
"Of course, I will, Coach." Tom replied in a mature but friendly voice, in case someone was overhearing them.
"I...uh...have to pick someone up at the airport around four-thirty and I'd like you to accompany me there as well." Jim said, but in his eyes his message was of despair and longing for the two of them to be alone together.
Tom got the message and said simply, "Sure, Coach, whatever you need."
Jim knew what he needed and at the moment only Tom could supply the big, strong, athletic arms to embrace him and ease his fears and sorrow.
By 11:00AM, another crowd of visitors carrying covered dishes began arriving. This was lunch food. Would this continue through dinner? And what about late night TV snacks? Did they bring those around 10:00PM? Jim and Nina always accepted the idea that funerals and weddings were for observers, not participants. "Wakes" were now included in these unnecessary rites of "passage".
Around noon, Jim began explaining to the still-filled room that he had to leave around one o'clock to go to Simmons, hoping everyone would take the hint and leave so that he could shower, shave and get dressed to attend to his widower's duties. He hadn't thought about the word, "widower" until just now. That's what he was now...the "widower" of Caranina Alice Stokely Kerr. Since she had had no living relative, at least Jim was spared the familial confrontation and the idea of having them "live" there until the funeral was completed. Cliff, of course, WOULD stay with him and that was fine. That's what Jim wanted. He also wondered how open and honest he should be with Cliff about Tom, but Cliff had an intuitive quality that made it possible for him to know everything about everybody without a word having to be spoken. That was another reason why Jim wanted Tom to go to the airport. Cliff would sense the relationship without having to go into embarrassing details.
He knew that Cliff was gay, but throughout the years of their friendship, Jim had never been conscious of having homosexual feelings of his own. Then again, as clever as Cliff was, Cliff might have known about it long before the realization surfaced for Jim.
By one o'clock, everyone had left. Jim thanked God for large favors and he hurriedly ran up the stairs to the bathroom to jump in the shower. The spray of the steaming hot water, hitting the back of Jim's neck and shoulders was so goddamned relaxing. He turned the Waterpik showerhead to "massage" and let the heavy drops of water pound on his tense back muscles. He contemplated masturbating, for there was nothing more unwinding than an orgasm, but he opted against it. He didn't know why. Did he feel that Nina's ghost was floating around the house now, watching his every move? Could spirits read minds? Did she know what he was thinking at all times? Of course not! This was a form of guilt and he didn't need to cope with that just now.
Jim stayed beneath the shower spray for at least ten minutes after he had shaved. He turned to face the water and let it pulsate against his face. He had let his imagination about spirits and ghosts get away from him because when he suddenly heard the shower door open, he jumped back against the tiled wall, almost slipping. He thought he was dreaming when he wiped the soap from his eyes only to open them and see Tom standing there, holding the shower door open, stark naked.
"Tom! My God! You almost scared the life out of me!" Jim said.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to alarm you. I locked the front door before coming upstairs. I heard you in the shower and thought you might like me to join you...to massage your back....or just to hold you."
Jim didn't offer an invitation to Tom. He grabbed his hand and all but jerked him into the shower. He moved back just enough to stand Tom under the water so that both their bodies would be wet before joining. After that, Jim pulled Tom's body toward his and their arms embraced one another so tightly, it was if they were trying to mesh their torsos into one.
"Jim...I..." Tom started to say.
"Hush a minute." Jim said, closing his mouth over his young lover's. This was the strongest, deepest, most meaningful kiss that either of them could ever remember experiencing in his life. Nature took its course. When two beautiful muscular bodies touched, supported by this much love and emotion, double erections were inevitable. They felt the rising of each other's organ and began to writhe and grind their crotches into each other.
"Jim, should we be doing this?" Tom broke the kiss, long enough to say.
"Why not? If Nina were here, she'd let us do it." Jim replied in a whisper. "Though she might have never openly said it, Nina would approve of our relationship...yours and mine. She and I DID love each other...and we approved of whatever made the other one happy. Nina knew you were making me happy...I've thought it all through this morning. What I said to you yesterday in the locker room about my loving you...that means TODAY, too."
"Do you want to talk about the accident and tell me what happened?" Tom asked.
"Not just now. Let's just share this moment. I'll tell you everything I know on the drive to Simmons'."
"OK."
"Now, does your offer for a massage still stand?"
"Sure! Where do you want me to massage first?"
"Do I have to become the teacher to instruct you on that?"
"Nope, on that subject, 'I' could teach a course...Just don't let me drown while I get on my knees." Tom said, chuckling.
Carefully, Tom knelt and engulfed his water-soaked organ in his mouth and for the next ten minutes Jim journeyed over the rainbow into the most sublime sensation of raptured bliss. All perturbations he might have been experiencing suddenly disappeared. Jim took casual notes of his actions so that he could recreate them for Tom when it was his turn to reciprocate. Jim wanted Tom to feel the precise ecstasy that he had received.
Jim's orgasm came fast and furious and he once again beckoned Tom to stand to thank him with a multitude of osculation before "taking his turn" and going down on his young lover. Tom showed very little control and he came sooner than expected. They reached for the bar of soap and cleansed all the seminal fluid that had overrun from their mouths. Jim opened the shower door and reached for two large bath towels. They blotted each other's body, absorbing most of the bath water before Jim took Tom's hand, once again, and led his Adonis to the bedroom where they took turns fucking for the next half hour.
They lay on their backs looking at the ceiling with satisfied exhaustion. They hadn't had sex. This was the first time they had made love and they both realized it was different than before. Their "first time" would be something neither of them would ever forget. No one said a word for a few minutes while they savored the moment. This was real! This was love! This was their beginning! Only why did it have to take Nina's passing to let this happen?...Just one more unanswered question...but one that didn't need to be answered yet as the spell could be broken and they might be forced back to hard, bitter earth.
Having relieved their momentary tensions, Tom and Jim once again showered, but this time there was no hanky-panky as the reality of here and now focused their minds on the immediate tasks before them. Picking out a coffin, burial clothes, time of the viewing, pallbearers, and cemetery arrangements...so many details to attend to in so few hours, not to mention the jacked-up prices for all these necessary wastes.
The two of them dressed in silence and went down the stairs to get in Jim's car and head toward Simmons. It was a long while before either of them said a word, their minds fluctuating from the glow of what had just happened between them and the gravity of Jim's role and duties as the bereaved husband.
It was Tom who broke the silence as they drove.
"You don't think Harm had anything to do with Nina's accident, do you, Jim?"
Tom's words had hit Jim as if someone had slapped the back of his neck with an icy cold wet rag. Did Tom know something he was keeping from him?
Jesus! This hadn't occurred to Jim...but then, why should it? Nina wasn't involved with Tom. Was there the remotest possibility of Harm punishing him by doing something to Nina? " My God!" Jim thought, "I AM going nuts!"
"NO WAY!" Jim exclaimed, "Harm wasn't in the car with her. There was no damage on the rear of Nina's car, so no one had rear-ended her into the on-coming traffic."
But still...SOMETHING had made her leave the house before her favorite TV show was over! For seemingly the millionth time, Jim forced myself to relive the horror of last night. And for the millionth time, he found no answer.
Malachi Simmons met Jim and Tom personally at the front door of his establishment. Jim tried to distinguish how sincere Malachi was about going on and on about Nina or if that was a typical funeral director's foreplay to making a huge sale. Jim had seen the ads on TV burbling that even a small funeral today could expect to cost the "loved ones" at least "$6,000.00.
When it was time to show his wares, Malachi opened the showroom housing over one hundred different casket models. The look on Malachi's face reminded Jim of one of his and Nina's favorite movies, "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory", and the scene where Gene Wilder opened the grand door of the factory. Only instead of bon-bons and malted cups, Malachi's "factory" was filled with silks, satins, bronze body encasements with 24 karat gold handles, or aluminum coated boxes in an array of colors...blue, gray, silver, brown, gold, etc. Just looking at the assortment made Jim sick to his stomach. Once, Jim had told Nina in half jest, that if he died before she did, just have him cremated and put his ashes in a trash bag and let them be carted to the city dump by the garbage men. He was more determined than ever now, that that hadn't been such a bad idea.
It took nearly two hours but Jim with the help of Tom, finally picked out the "right ones" for Nina...casket, clothes, viewing hours, what to say in the obituary...on and on. Jim was ready for the morgue himself by the time he got out of there to the tune of "$13,000.00". Malachi was pleased but Jim was drained emotionally. He needed a stiff drink and a chance to be alone with Tom. He still had an hour and a half before Cliff's plane arrived. He got in his car and drove Tom to a bar almost 25 miles outside of town where no one knew either of them and no one had ever heard of Nina or anyone else from the campus.
In the bar, Jim ordered glasses of white wine for the two of them. He didn't want Cliff to get the idea he had been drinking heavily, but it was a chance to talk privately with Tom.
"Tom?" Jim began.
"Yes?"
"What you said earlier...about Harm...Nina...and the wreck..."
"Yes?"
"Is there something you know that you're keeping from me?"
Tom looked at his older lover for a few moments before replying.
"Uh...yes...and no."
"Tell me...No matter what it is...tell me." Jim pleaded.
"I didn't want to bother you...I mean, hell, you've got enough to contend with right now."
"I'm not a weak man...what do you know?"
"Well, very frankly, I don't think Harm caused Nina's accident."
"Why? Did you think he might have?"
"I didn't really, but...Harm was waiting for me in my room when you brought me to the dorm last night."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, and he confessed to killing Sandy and implied he had caused the accident of that waiter, Ray, from Shoney's."
"God damn!"
"What else did he say?"
"He made some threats...some idle...some serious...about going to Nina and telling her about us."
"That little bastard!"
"But Nina's accident had already happened when Harm was in my room...around eleven o'clock. So if he had bumped Nina's car or ran her into the on-coming car, I don't think he would talked about going to squeal on us."
"What did you say to him?"
"I tried to calm him down by telling him Nina already knew about us...I didn't know if he would buy it or not, but I was trying to stop him from going to see her."
"Did you quarrel or have a fight?"
"No, but I told him to get the fuck out of my room...and he left."
"How did he know about us?"
"He was hiding in the locker room the other day and saw us kissing and heard our whole conversation."
"Jesus!" Jim sighed, heavily, "but why was that so important to him?"
"Harm got the idea that he and I had a thing going."
"Why would he think that?"
"The night Sandy died, he and I had been fooling around and she caught us."
"You and Harm were having sex?"
"Now don't go ranting on your high horse. It happened...I don't know why...Too much to drink maybe...testosterone... tension...It meant NOTHING, Jim, honest...not to me any way. But Harm...well, he became jealous or something and flew into a rage at Sandy."
"Well, how does the waiter...Ray, you said?...fit into the picture?"
"Shit! Jim!" Tom's face was turning red...a cross between anger and embarrassment. "OK, so I went to Shoney's and he waited on me and then we went home and had sex. That's all it was...just sex!"
"Damn, you've been a busy little man, haven't you?" A wry grin surfaced on his face for a moment.
"It's not as bad as you think. Hell, what was I supposed to do? Hang around in the shadows while you decided if you wanted to stay with your wife? Who could predict what would happen in the next twenty-four hours? OK, I'm sorry. It wasn't like you and I were lovers or anything...and least not then. Things are different now!"
"And now you're saying we ARE lovers?"
"We love each other, don't we?"
"I suppose," Jim said, in a subdued response of self-realization.
"And we made love this afternoon, didn't we?"
"Yes."
"Then wouldn't you think that qualifies us as being lovers?"
"Yes, I guess it does. Forgive me-- no "I guess"-- it does."
"It's just I didn't want to talk about any of this right now. Your mind is preoccupied with Nina...and the funeral."
"It is...but my thoughts also include you." Jim said, reaching across the table to place his hand over Tom's. "I longed to have you with me last night. I did feel guilty. You're right, I should've been thinking about Nina...but all I could think about was you and having you home with me...You didn't really lie to Harm. Nina DID know the way I felt about you. She all but gave me approval to pursue you. She saw how happy you made me and how miserable I was when I didn't know where you were and what you were doing. With what you've just told me about you and Harm and you and the waiter...it would look as if I had cause to be concerned."
"You had nothing to be concerned about, Jim." Tom replied. "I'm yours...if you want me...for as long as you like."
"Oh, if that were only true."
"Trust me...I know we've both got some hard times ahead of us, but I'm here...ready to give myself to you. The rest is up to you."
Jim squeezed Tom's hand for reassurance that all was right between them.
"Come on, we're gonna be late at the airport."
"Jim, who IS this Cliff?"
"The best friend I ever had in my life."
"Is he gay?"
"He was gay while I was straight."
"Is he someone I should be concerned about?"
"Not THAT kind of concern. But you better hope he gives you his approval."
"God, I feel like you're taking me home to introduce me to your parents."
"That's a good way of looking at it. But don't worry, he's gonna love you...like I do...only in a different way. He's a priest."
"Oh, Jesus! Do I have to worry about being molested?"
"Only by me." Jim laughed for the first time in the past eighteen hours.
"Damn, you're handsome when you smile." Tom said.
"Now, don't start buttering me up. I don't want to have to take you right here in this parking lot and risk getting arrested for lewd and lascivious behavior."
"You can if you want to, old man!" Tom said, giving Jim a slight sock on the upper arm.
Before Jim started the car, he turned to look at Tom. Tears filled Jim's eyes.
"I wonder if there can be such a thing as an emotional oxymoron?"
"What's that?"
"This is the saddest day of my life...and yet, in many ways, it's the happiest day at the same time."
"I know...I'm sad and I'm glad, too."
Jim drove out on the highway and headed toward the airport. Neither he nor Tom noticed the light blue Ford Mustang that was following them, three cars back.
The flight was on schedule and Jim waited for his long-time friend to come through Gate A. There was a long line of passengers disembarking. Finally, Jim caught a glimpse of the handsome guy with blonde hair. Jim's stomach was fluttering with nerves as he put up his hand to wave at Cliff. Cliff saw the wave and signaled back. They slowly walked toward each other until they met and immediately embraced. Jim had never felt so relieved and safe as he did with Cliff's arms around him.
"Hi, buddy," Cliff, said quietly in Jim's ear. That little greeting was all Jim needed to unleash the flow of tears he had been damming up all day. He cried on Cliff's shoulder as Cliff squeezed him tighter.
"Let it go, Jim. I'm here with you and everything's gonna be all right."
Jim wasn't aware of how much time passed as the two of them stood there in the airport rotunda, but Cliff was right, everything seemed as if it would be all right now.
"Cliff, there's someone I want you to meet." Jim said turning around to let Cliff and Tom size up one another. "This is my...my...uh...star quarterback, Tom...Tom, this is Father Cliff."
Cliff, with his talent of human perception, instantly saw that there was more between Jim and Tom that just a mere coach-quarterback relationship as he out his hand to shake Tom's.
"Glad to meet you, Tom." Cliff said, warmly.
"Same here, Father." Tom replied, still not knowing exactly how close Jim and Cliff's camaraderie was. But when he looked into Cliff's blue eyes, he felt a rush of instantaneous warmheartedness...as if they had been friends for a long time. Tom, who didn't like meeting people for the first time couldn't understand why he felt this way. It was almost eerie, as if Cliff had cast a spell or something on him.
"Do you have luggage?" Jim asked.
"Just a small case." Cliff replied.
"If you'll go get it, I'll go get the car and we'll meet you out front."
"Fine."
Jim and Cliff gave each other one more quick hug before going to their tasks.
"I'm glad you're here, Cliff."
"Me, too."
Jim and Tom went to the parking lot.
"Do you think he liked me?" Tom asked.
"Couldn't you tell?"
"I thought so."
"He did."
"Don't think I'm crazy, but when I took his hand, it was like something...some funny feeling went through my body."
"I know." Jim said. "He has the same effect on everyone."
The two of them were about to get into the car when suddenly Tom noticed the blue Mustang.
"Jim! My God! Look!"
"What?"
"That's Harm over there in that car!"
"You're kidding?"
"No, look!"
Jim saw Harm sitting behind the wheel, two rows over in the parking lot and ran toward him.
"Harm!" Jim screamed. "HARM!"
When Harm saw Jim approaching him, he started his engine and squealed his tires as he made a fast escape across the lot toward the exit.
Both, Jim and Tom stood there looking stunned as Harm's car sped out onto the highway.
"Tom, what the fuck is going on?"
"I don't know, Jim. I don't know...but we'd better be careful."
They stared at each other and suddenly a few of the unanswered questions were beginning to be revealed.
(To be continued in Chapter Seven).