THIS STORY IS TOTALLY FICTITIOUS. IT CONTAINS DESCRIPTIVE SEX BETWEEN TWO MEN. IF THIS IS OFFENSIVE TO YOU GO ELSE WHERE. IF IT IS ILLEGAL FOR YOU TO BE READING IT YOU SHOULDN'T BE HERE TO BEGIN WITH, SO JUST GO AWAY. OTHERWISE ENJOY IT. JWS
SOMEONE LIKE YOU
by J.W. SMITH
I closed the door behind the last moving man, locked it, leaned against it and gazed around the empty room. Most of six wonderful years with Ted had been lived here and three terribly lonely ones since his death. Well, it was time to put it all behind me and start over again. Kind of. It felt like I was just continuing my numb celibate life in a different location.
There was a plaintive cry from the cat carrier sitting on the kitchen counter with the few items I was carrying with me in my car. I went in and stuck my finger through the wires and caressed her.
"I know, Saturn. It will all be over soon. You're going to love our new home. There's a big back yard just for you."
She chirruped sadly. I got the feeling she was rather doubtful about it, too. I did a last walkthrough checking for anything that might have been over looked. I refused to think about all the wonderful times that we had spent in this place. I had done that for three long years, now it was time to move on and start a new life.
When I didn't come up with anything, I loaded the two boxes, one containing Ted's ashes, into the back seat of my car. I returned to the kitchen for the last time and picked up Saturn's carrier and my brief case, and locked the door behind me. I dropped my case on the floorboard and set her on the seat and belted her in. I eased behind the wheel and kind of collapsed against it.
'Come on, fellow, you can do this. You've already gotten this far.' I thought to myself, but I knew the hardest part was yet to come.
I backed out of the garage and stepped out of the car with the garage door gizmo. I pushed the button and tossed it under the closing door where the new owners could find it. Getting back into the car I wheeled on to Sherman Way and headed for the 405. I was a bit glad to be leaving the San Fernando Valley. This was an end to an era.
Forty-five minutes later, I turned off the 210 onto Fair Oaks Blvd. headed north to Altadena and our new home. I pulled into the driveway, drove up to the garage, and just sat there for a few moments, steeling myself for the next step. Moving in.
"I can do this. Just don't think; go with the flow." I said aloud to myself.
It had become my mantra over the last three years. The cat meowed plaintively. I stuck a finger though the carrier and rubbed her head.
"Just a couple more hours, Saturn. I promise you're going to love your new home."
I got out of the car, draped my arms over the car door and looked at the house. I thought a moment about how lonely it was going to be here, bouncing off the walls by myself. Ted had wanted this house so much. I loved the old place, too. It was just so big.
Ted and I had put a down payment and signed all the papers to this big old farmhouse in Altadena just before the accident. We were preparing to move when he was killed. Everything went on hold until all the legal matters were straightened out. We had procrastinated doing all the wills and other documents we have to have in order to protect ourselves from the straight legal system.
Being that he had no siblings and both parents were dead and no living relatives came forward. It was decided; I was the only one eligible to get it all, including the huge insurance settlement with the trucking company whose truck, driven by a driver with a bad drinking record, had smashed Ted's car with him in it.
The previous owner was a elderly lady with no living relatives. The payments were to support the Pasadena Playhouse, a reknowned old live theatre. The monthly payments were to go directly to the Theatre. I was working as a computer consultant and making good money. I made a deal with the theatre that if they would let me continue making the payments until the whole legal mess was straightened out that I would make a sizable contribution to them when it was all settled. So at the age of thirty-one I am now a patron of the arts. They were so thankful for the contribution and continued steady influx of money from the monthly house payments that they gave me season tickets for two for the rest of my life.
'Don't think; go with the flow.' I reminded myself.
On the east side of my drive way there is a cottage that years ago had been part of the estate. A previous owner had sold it with a sizable piece of the property with it. The windows on the west side looked out onto my front yard . We had been told that a man and his elderly mother lived there.
I walked around my car to get Saturn out. As I stood up with her carrier in my arms, I glanced at the winddow next door. I saw the man next door, sitting at his desk watching me. I locked eyes with him. I could have sworn that I was looking right into Ted's eyes. I froze. This had to be a hallucination
Now was not the time to start imagining things I told myself. I smiled weakly, dropped my gaze. I walked over to the moving van. The men had unloaded several pieces of furniture and boxes onto the lawn and were ready to start moving the stuff inside, so I unlocked the front door.
I went through to the kitchen and into the pantry. I closed the door and let Saturn out of her carrier. She mewed softly and wrapped her sleek black body around my leg, thanking me for releasing her and then she started exploring. She jumped up on the window ledge and looked out. She turned back to me with a pleading look in her big golden eyes.
"After the movers have gone and you've thoroughly explored the house, then you can go out and do the yard." I told her.
She seemed content with that and continued gazing out the window. I gave her a bowl of water and some dry food.
The rest of the day was spent directing where everything went. When it was all in and the movers had left, I started sorting through the stacks of boxes, extracting the ones I had marked for immediate use, bedding, bathroom necessities, kitchen items like the coffee maker.The doorbell rang.
'It must be my next door neighbor.' I thought.
Recalling my hallucination earlier, I wonder what he really looked like. I opened the door. He had his back to me. I quickly did an inventory of what I was seeing, blonde short hair, broad muscular shoulders, narrow waist, small hips and long legs. The whole package was quite familiar. And then he turned around smiling that special smile that I missed so terribly. I looked into his warm brown eyes and my mind shut down. My lights went out.
As I started regaining consciousness and becoming cognizant of my surroundings, I realized I was lying on the sofa. I heard a sound and turned my head toward it. He was standing by the mantle, frowning, with my favorite photo of Ted and me in his hand. It had been taken on top of the Empire State Building.
I closed my eyes and moaned. I wasn't imagining this. I was seeing Ted.
"Do you remember when that was taken?" I asked.
He quickly set the photo down and knelt beside me. I guess he chose to ignore the question. He wiped a cool damp cloth over my forehead. I opened my eyes and looked at him. Tears filled my eyes blurring my vision. I closed them and felt the tears streaking down the sides of my face. He gently wiped them away with the cloth. He was definitely Ted.
"Feeling better?" He asked.
I slowly shook my head no.
"The photo. That's not me. Who is it?" He asked
I looked at him. I closed my eyes and frowned. I pushed him away and sat up. What kind of fucked up game was he playing? I needed a stimulant to help me think, to help me cope with this.
"I think I need some coffee." I stood up and walked away from him, toward the kitchen. I was angry, hurt, confused.
He followed me. I ignored him, trying to get my thoughts together and figure out what was going on. I was elated that he was not dead. I was furious that he had lead me to believe that he was, and that he let me mourn for him for three unending long years.
I poured water and grounds into the coffee maker, and turned it on. I turned around, folding my arms across my chest; I leaned back against the counter.
"Alright, Ted, explain."
He looked at me like I had lost my mind. He blinked and then looked at me again. I could have sworn he didn't know what I was talking about. Damn, he was a good actor.
"My name is not Ted. My name is Nathan Taylor."
How the hell could he look me in the eye and act so god dammed innocent?
"You fuck. You put me through three years of agony. Three years I've mourned your death every moment of every day. And now you walk back in to my life. Just like that." I snapped my fingers in his face. "How dare you?" I raged at him.
I wanted to pound him to make him hurt as badly as I was hurting. Instead I turned and slammed my fist against the cabinet door. I was crying, completely out of control.
He lunged forward and wrapped his arms around me and pulled me away from the cabinet. My knuckles were bleeding, and there was a hole in the door.
"Calm down." He said trying to sooth me.
I was having nothing of it.
"How could you? No amount of money is worth what you've put me through. I really thought you were dead." I cried.
I pulled away and rounded on him.
"You are dead, you son of bitch." I screamed at him. "You are not going to come back into my life after abandoning me and putting me though hell for three years."
I was rabid. I could have killed him. He calmly slapped me. It wasn't a hard slap, but the shock of it quieted me. Ted had never laid a hand on me. He grabbed me and hugged me hard against his chest. When I didn't react in anger he let go of me.
"I'm sorry. You're a bit hysterical. Please, sit down and tell me what you are talking about."
I stared at him in total disbelief. I was speechless. He seemed so sincere. I sat down, not taking my eyes off him. The hostility I was feeling made my eyes feel dry and hot. He gently pushed me into a chair and sat down opposite me.
At odd moments like this, I always hear some stupid song in my head, like the background music in a movie. I could hear Tim Hardin singing in my mind now.
"Knowing that you lie
Straight faced while I cry"
"As I said, my name is Nathan Taylor. I grew up next door, where you first saw me. I am a Psychiatrist. I work with disturbed young people."
He sat there looking at me as if he expected some kind of response from me. I just glared at him.
"Won't you tell me your name?"
He said it as if he were speaking to a mentally deficient. Oh man, this was good. But I wondered why he hadn't changed his occupation along with his name.
"You know my name. Why are you playing this game?" I asked.
"If I knew your name I wouldn't have to ask, now would I?"
"Alright, I'll play along. My name is Jim Baxter."
I was feeling exasperated and belligerent.
"And who is this Ted you keep accusing me of being?"
"You know who the fuck you are." I growled at him.
"Okay, Jim, let's pretend I don't know."
He was good at playing the head shrinker. His was voice calming, soothing.
"Who is Ted?"
"You were my partner, you shit. We bought this house together before you were killed. As you well know." I screamed in frustation.
"I didn't know. I am sorry for your loss."
I could see the gentle kindness in his eyes as he said that, but I still wasn't going to let him get away with this cruel, mean game.
"Still I look to find a reason to believe."
The song sang on in my head.
"So very kind of you to care. And if you think you're going to get your hands on the insurance money you are wrong. I'm turning it all back to them and repay what I have spent. I'll see you burn in hell before I let you have it."
He sat across from me studying me. The coffee maker burped and sighed as the last of the water was pushed into the grounds. I got up automatically and filled two mugs. I poured a little cream and two level teaspoons of sugar into one, stirred it and handed it to him. He was hesitant to take it at first, but then he took it and raised it to his lips, tasting it as he looked at me. He frowned. I stood there watching.
"What? Isn't that how you like it?"
"It's exactly like I like it. What I don't understand is how you would know that."
"I fixed your coffee at least once a day for six years. Why wouldn't I know how you like it?" I snapped at him.
"Stop."
He held his hands up, palms out, in front of his chest.
"This discussion is going circular. Please, sit back down and let me try to get this straight."
I sat back down, arms folded, glowering at him over my coffee mug.
"Okay, I think I have figured this out. I look exactly like Ted. I am assuming that you believe that I am Ted, and that I was not really killed. And I'm supposed to be after some insurance money. Is that correct?"
I nodded.
"Okay. Now I'm going to tell you a story." He said. "This has me completely weirded out. I'm sure it will do the same to you, too. Anyway, a little over two years ago my mother died. In going through her private papers, I happened up on a set of documents indicating that I was adopted at birth. The papers also indicated that I had an identical twin that my parents had petitioned to adopt too. Apparently for some reason they didn't succeed and my twin was adopted by another family. I started a search for him, only to learn that he had died about a year before. His name was Kincaide. Both of his parents were deceased. I looked no further."
I leaned back in my chair staring at him. Did he really expect me to believe this farfetched story? Come on, I wasn't born yesterday. As I looked at him I recalled the Ted I knew. I couldn't imagine him doing this to me.
"You were the center of my universe." I said to him. "My whole life revolved around you. I don't understand. Why? I never thought money was so important to you that you would do something so dastardly as this. I loved you."
Tears filled my eyes again.
"You don't believe a word of what I just told you. Do you?" he asked.
I just stared dolefully at him through my tears. Not only had he broken my heart now he was spitting on it. And I had loved him. I still loved him.
Tim continued to sing in my subconscious:
"If I listened long enough to you
I'd find a way to believe it's all true."
"I guess the only thing to do is to show you the documents." He stood up. "Come with me."
He turned and walked to the front door. I hesitated and then followed, thinking this was going to be good. He held the screen door open for me to step into his house, and then closed it behind himself as he followed me into the room.
"Please be seated I'll be back in a minute."
I stood where I was, looking around the room. It was comfortable, decorated with discrete taste. Masculine Spanish Revival furniture complemented the style of the house itself. A couple of exquisite Plein Aire Paintings hung on the walls. A beautiful large oriental carpet covered the dark wood floor.
'This is how I want the big house to look.' I thought to myself.
He came back in the room laden with a box, a folder of papers and a first aid kit.
"Before we get into this, let me take care of your hand." He said.
He sat down on the sofa, placing the box and papers on the coffee table. He opened the kit, and then patted the cushion beside him. I had forgotten about my hand. Now that I directed my attention to it, it started throbbing.
"Come sit."
I sat. He took my hand and examined it.
"I don't think you broke any bones, but it's going to be sore."
He tore open an alcohol wipe and cleaned the dried blood off my knuckles. I hissed at the sharp sting.
"Sorry."
"'s all right."
"You'll have to replace a panel in that cabinet door. I'm glad you didn't aim at my face." He chuckled.
He smoothed some ointment on them and tore open a roll of gauze, wrapped it around my hand several times and then he split the end of the roll and tied it off.
"Some one like you
Makes it hard to live without someone else."
Tim sang on in my mind.
"There that should keep it clean until it starts to heal."
He squeezed my knee. The jolt of his touch shot up my leg. I flinched.
"Sorry. I wasn't being personal."
I ducked my head embarrassed at the affect he had on me. He reached over and picked up the folder and handed it to me.
"I'll leave you to peruse these. I'll be back in a moment."
He left the room, leaving me with a thick file of papers on my lap. Most of them were yellowed with age. I glanced through them not knowing what I should be looking for really. I saw official looking seals and signatures. I saw his name on a birth certificate. Leafing on through them I found what looked like a copy of Ted's Birth certificate. I held it in one hand; Nat's in the other, and compared them. Nat's being an original was certainly older looking. I leafed on through. I found a request for information and then copies of the adoption papers for Ted.
I closed the folder and laid it back on the coffee table. Okay, it looked like he was telling the truth, but again if he was going to fake his death, wouldn't he also go through the trouble of faking all these papers? My thoughts were a bunch of Keystone Cops falling all over each other, jumbled, not making sense. I sat with my elbows on my knees, my head in my hands, eyes closed, trying to not think or even feel.
I was aware of when he came back into the room and sat down beside, but still I jumped when he put his hand on my back.
"I didn't mean to startle you. Are you okay?" he asked, rubbing his hand briskly up and down my spine. I had hungered for that touch for so long.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know. It's so strange. How could you be so like him and never even knew him? You use his expressions like 'weirded out'. You like you coffee fixed the same way. You're a psychiatrist working with kids just like him. I think it's going to take some time to accept this."
"Well, Jim, it's going to take us both time to get our heads on straight about this. Can it really be just a coincidence that my twin and his lover bought a house next door to me? I wish I could have known him. But maybe knowing you will give me a window on him."
He picked up the box and sat it between us. Opening it he took out a book of photos.
"This was my family. My father and mother. This was me at three. My high school graduation picture."
On and on he droned as my head swam. I had all of Ted's family photos stored away in a similar box. I had never looked at them. I stood up preparing to go.
"Nat." Damn, it was difficult thinking of him as 'not Ted.' He looked up at me.
"Nat, I apologize for screaming at you. I'm emotionally exhausted. Please forgive me, but I've really got to be by myself for a while."
"Hey, I can see what you've gone through. I'm sorry I was party to it, but I guess neither of us could have prevented it. When you get it all straight in your head maybe we can have dinner together and start off on a new foot."
"I'd like that. I'll talk to you later." I started out the door.
"Oh, welcome to the neighborhood. Call me if you need anything. Here's my card."
"Thank you." I said, taking the card.
I walked away with out looking back. I still wasn't convinced. Forget the looks, he was just too much like Ted.