This is the conclusion of a story about Peter and Joe, next door neighbors in Iowa whose long-time friendship undergoes an unexpected turn of events. No minors were harmed in the writing of this story, but if you are one please go find something else to do. Please do not reproduce this story in any form without the permission of the author.
-- Damian
PART 4
Over the winter, Joe and I spent many nights and weekends together, but we didn't sleep overnight with each other too often -- not wanting to arouse the suspicion of the neighbors and to maintain the illusion of being "just friends." We both realized we should let a decent interval elapse after Evie's passing before taking things to the next step.
For a couple of sexually inexperienced guys, we managed to learn a lot together in short order as we experimented with every form of sex play that two past-their-prime guys from rural Iowa could conjure up. Of course, the Internet was a big help in our "education," and we did a lot of "homework" under the sheets and conducted a lot of "research" into learning new and varied ways to please each other.
But keeping our joy to ourselves took a certain toll on us. We sometimes drove up to Des Moines to find others like us, but we were basically homebodies and preferred to be in one of our own places most of the time -- together, that is. I just knew that I loved my time with Joe and wondered how I ever got along without him -- just by being himself he brought a richness to my life that I never knew was even possible to experience.
Finally -- after a long, cold winter -- warm weather returned to southern Iowa again, and I was growing impatient with the hiding and the deception. People on our circle were bound to start wondering what was going on between the two of us. I was ready to put my house on the market and move in with Joe permanently.
But I wanted even more. I hoped maybe he did, too.
The first anniversary of Evie's passing came and went in May. Over breakfast one day in early June, I knew it was finally time to make my move. I reached across the table and took Joe's hand as the unsuspecting man of my dreams was swallowing a mouthful of coffee.
"Joe, I have something to say."
"What is it, Peter?" he said, somewhat apprehensively.
Right there in his kitchen -- with both of us still in our boxer shorts and unshaven -- among the pastry crumbs, coffee getting cold, Rusty looking on curiously -- I went over to Joe's side of the table, dropped to one knee, and took his hands in both of mine.
"Joe Hartman, I love you and I want us to spend the rest of our lives together. Will you marry me?"
With tears streaming down his face, Joe squeezed my hands.
"With pleasure, my sweet Peter -- with pleasure!"
Standing, we hugged and kissed and cried together, joyful in the unexpected turn of events that life had presented to us in the past few months.
"Well, now I guess we should tell someone, shouldn't we?" I asked.
"Yes, I guess we should. Let's throw a barbecue for the neighbors and give them something to talk about!" Joe grinned.
"Yes, good idea, Joe. But right now I think we could both use a good shower."
We washed each other's body, gave each other a shampoo, took turns shaving naked in front of Joe's mirror, and got dressed -- ready now to plan how we would face an unsuspecting world.
A month later Joe's back yard was filled with 20 squealing children and about 30 laughing adults -- all the neighbors from our cul-de-sac had gathered for Joe's annual Fourth of July barbecue, which I was co-hosting this time. On cue, the clown we hired to entertain the kids for half an hour showed up, and he took them to aside for a while so that Joe and I could make our announcement to their parents and other adults who had gathered.
I was as nervous as I had ever remembered being. This could either go well -- or turn the whole party into an unmitigated disaster. But we were bursting with the need to share our good news.
Joe began by getting everyone's attention. When Joe spoke, everyone listened -- I knew they all adored him.
"Friends, I want to begin by thanking Peter for co-hosting this year's event. I never knew how much work Evie put into pulling all this together with me every year until she...until I thought about doing it by myself. Fortunately, Peter jumped in and did a lot of the leg work to make it possible to resume this tradition.
"As most of you know, Peter has always been a wonderful next-door neighbor and friend, and he's supported me in so many ways since I lost Evie a year ago last spring. I honestly don't know what I would have done without him."
Joe turned and gave me a big smile. Polite applause ensued. Faces were beaming.
"But there's more, and Peter and I want you all to know that we've become...even closer in recent months. I know this is going to come as a shock to many -- if not all -- of you, but we sincerely hope that you will be happy to learn that Peter and I...well..."
Joe's courage was slipping away, so somehow I found my voice to continue what he started.
"What Joe is trying to say is that we've become very fond of each other. I've decided to sell my house next door and move in with him."
Looks of puzzlement replaced the beaming faces.
"We know that guys our age don't usually do that," I continued, "but Joe has become the center of my life and we want to spend all of our free time from now on under one roof. We love each other very much, and we would appreciate your support and friendship at our, uh...wedding here in Joe's back yard next month."
There. It was out in the open now. Jaws dropped. Eyes averted. No one moved -- as if frozen in place. We looked at each other, wondering what to say or do next. My blood turned to ice water.
Slowly, a solitary figure arose shakily from her folding chair. It was Agnes Simpson, an 87-year-old gray-haired widow who was the unofficial matriarch of the neighborhood. She lived on the other side of Joe, two doors down from my place. If anyone was more loved and respected here than Joe was, it was Agnes.
Everyone turned to see what she was going to do. I was afraid she would pick up her things and go home, but it was clear that she had something to say. Agnes wan't known to hold back if she wanted to speak her mind about anything -- she was fondly known as the most opinionated person in three counties.
"Joe Hartman, I have lived next door to you for 35 years. You and Evie always set an example for the rest of us in kindness and neighborliness. But now...you and Peter have absolutely flabbergasted me with this news of yours."
No one was even breathing, much less moving, as we all waited to hear the rest.
"I just want you to know -- and I think Evie, rest her soul, would agree -- that this new relationship of yours is, well, just the most...wonderful thing I've heard about in a long time. If I can't have you for myself, Joe Hartman, then you and Peter have my blessing."
A few titters could be heard as the other neighbors tried to imagine Agnes with Joe, a man young enough to be her son. She started to sit back down but then got back up again with one last comment.
"And about this wedding of yours -- I'll haunt you from my grave someday if you don't reserve a seat for me in the front row."
Taking their cue from Agnes, one by one the rest of the neighbors rose from their seats, turned to face Joe and me, and erupted into sustained, heartfelt applause. Some of the women were coming up to us and hugging us. Most of the men looked a bit uncomfortable, but they all shook our hands and wished us well. I thought that a couple of the men looked a little wistful -- like they could identify with our situation.
The barbecue went on, and the neighbors stayed until all the food was gone and the mosquitoes began their nightly feeding frenzy. We collapsed into bed after cleaning up the kitchen, exhausted from the day and the emotional roller coaster we'd been on.
The cat was finally out of the bag, and we had survived!
The next month was a blur of activity. We didn't send out invitations, but we made it clear through word of mouth that everyone on our circle was invited. We didn't specifically mention the children, leaving it up to the parents to decide if and what to tell them about this unprecedented neighborhood event.
Not being churchgoers, Joe and I decided to bring in a justice of the peace to perform the ceremony, which again would be in Joe's spacious back yard. We hired a company to set up a tent and bring in fifty folding chairs. The yard was festooned with colorful displays of flower arrangements, and we hired a caterer to provide and serve the food and beverages. We thought an open bar might lure in more of the husbands. A tall wedding cake with two little grooms on top was the centerpiece of the food table.
At noon on the appointed day, an hour ahead of the event, everything was in place and looked spectacular. Now all we needed were the guests. We went back inside, changed into our matching rented tuxes, and strolled back out to the back yard at 20 minutes till the hour to greet our guests.
No one was there yet. We looked at each other -- crestfallen.
Unbeknown to us, they had all gathered at Agnes' house to walk over together. As we went to the side of the house and looked down the driveway, we saw a sea of smiling faces -- with Agnes leading the way, on her grandson's arm. Wives, husbands, and all the children on our circle strolled in a procession into our back yard in their Sunday best and took their seats. It was all I could do not to cry.
With Agnes beaming from the front row, Joe and I exchanged vows and rings, heard the justice of the peace proclaim us "husbands for life" by the powers vested in him by the State of Iowa, and gave each other a soulful kiss and hug as the guests all rose in congratulatory applause. It was a blissful, unforgettable moment -- one that I never for a moment had envisioned as ever happening to me. Even Rusty barked his approval.
Unbeknown to us until the next morning, the neighbors had erected a "Just Married, Do Not Disturb" sign on Joe's front lawn. It worked -- we made love in peace and joy that evening, and then embarked on a two-week tour of the Hawaiian Islands -- the first long vacation either of us had ever taken. We even went skinny-dipping at Little Makena Beach on Maui -- another first for both of us.
I sold my house and merged my belongings with Joe's over Labor Day. Our lives are now complete, and we enjoy sitting together on "our" front lawn every day.
Little children on our circle continue to use our embankment to push off on their bikes -- even long after they no longer need to -- just to stay connected to us. A pair of six-year-old twin boys have been particularly fun to watch as they struggle to gain their balance on their shiny new bikes.
"Hi, Joe! Hi, Peter! Watch us!" they yell as they push off from our yard. Slowly, wobbly, they make their way around the circle.
What goes around comes around, as they say, and I see that more and more as I learn from Joe how to reach out to our neighbors and receive in return the love and respect they feel -- first for him, and now for the both of us.
At last -- in Joe Hartman, I have everything my heart could possibly want.
THE END
(Nifty authors like to hear from their readers. Please take a moment to send your feedback to me at nvtahoeus@yahoo.com. Give me your first name and location, if you would. To deal with spam I delete messages that don't have something in the subject line. Thanks for reading my story! Damian)