Date: Fri, 23 Dec 2011 15:08:27 -0800 (PST) From: Damian Subject: Waiting for Vince - Part 2 In Part 1, Drew goes back to his hometown in hopes of rekindling a relationship with Vince, his childhood buddy who didn't maintain the friendship past their early adult years -- for reasons never spoken. Drew wrote to Vince and named a time and place in hopes that Vince would show up. Drew had given up just as Vince finally made a delayed appearance. After dinner out, Vince invites Drew to spend the weekend with him to catch up. PART 2 When I woke the next morning I had to think for a second or two as to where I was and why. "Oh, yeah," I realized with a satisfied grin. "I'm back home in Montgomery. Even better, I'm back with Vince." Well, almost. True, I had spent most of last evening with him, had gotten a great hug, had a sumptuous Southern meal with him, and had even been invited to his house for the weekend. The last weekend we had spent together must have been in our senior year of college -- over 30 years ago. At long last there would be another one -- just the two of us and no one else. What would it be like? Could we really once again be the close friends that we were so long ago? Or would he break my heart again and send me back home with my tail between my legs? I decided the upside opportunity was worth any downside risk. It had been Vince's idea for us to spend the weekend together, and wild horses couldn't have kept me away. Vince had suggested I come over around 10 a.m. I'd been up since my usual 6:30, but I resisted the urge to jump in the car and race to his place, even though I could hardly wait to start our weekend together. I got myself some coffee and a little breakfast snack and killed some time driving around the city, marveling at the changes that had taken place since I was last there. It was late March, and the azaleas and dogwood trees were in full glorious bloom. This had always been my favorite time of year in Montgomery, before the stifling heat and humidity of summer settled in over the city like a heavy wet blanket. Ten o'clock finally arrived, and I pulled up at the address Vince had given me. I recognized it as the very same house where I had visited him and Anne in the early 1980s. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I got out of my car and strode to the front door. Would I feel as welcome today as he had made me feel last night? Or would the harsh light of day reveal a different side of him? I needn't have worried. Vince beamed broadly as he opened the front door for me, and we hugged again briefly as he offered me a seat and some more coffee. I looked around carefully. Of course the place had been redecorated since I was there last, but I sensed Anne's presence in the carefully placed knickknacks and photos on the shelves. I half expected her to walk in from the kitchen and hug my neck like she used to. "This is beautiful, Vince. So homey." "I've hardly changed a thing since Anne passed. I can't bring myself to do it." "I understand, Vince. She was a lovely person and a great homemaker." "Yes..." he said, as his voice and face seemed to trail off to another time. Looking back up, he quickly changed the direction of his thoughts. "Drew, I want you to know I'm glad you're here. I've really missed you, and I'm sorry..." "That's okay, Vince. Let it go for now. Let's just have a nice day together. We can talk about the heavy stuff later in the day over cocktails." I smiled and tried to put him at ease. Besides, I knew I'd start crying pretty soon if he kept that line of thought going. After our coffee was gone he showed me around the house and the yard, which were meticulously cared for. One of the rooms had some toys that were obviously there for visits from his grandchildren -- the ones that Anne had tragically never lived to enjoy. The flowers in his back yard bowled me over with their abundance and sweet spring fragrance. Vince said that he had a housekeeper who came in once a week to help him with the cleaning, as well as a yard boy. As he was still working in his social services career, he had little time for that sort of thing himself, now that he was living alone. He had seldom been demonstrably affectionate with me before, but I noticed that he touched me on the arm once or twice as we walked through the house and yard. It sent pleasurable chills up and down my spine -- but also a primeval ache in my soul for more. But what more could a gay man and a straight man have besides friendship? After a light lunch on his patio, we got in his car and rode around a bit. We found the Oak Park neighborhood where we had once lived a half a block apart. It was now a little dated looking but still a decent part of town. I misted up as I remembered the many times we had walked -- or run -- between our houses growing up. We were hardly ever seen without the other in this kid-friendly middle class neighborhood. We drove slowly past Sidney Lanier High School, named for the Southern poet, where we spent four years together, as well as some other places in town where we used to hang out after school and on weekends. Old memories flowed back to me like a dam had broken and released feelings that I had forgotten I ever had. Around 3 p.m. we went back to Vince's house. I brought my bag in and he showed me to a guest room where I asked for a half hour to take a much-needed nap. I didn't sleep much, however. My mind was too full of images of the past and the present. Nothing else in my life could come even remotely close to mattering as much as growing up in this town with my friend Vince Paulson. He had BEEN my life back then, but now that we'd found each other again, I could not realistically envision a future with him. Or without him. Finally it was time for happy hour. I suggested going to the same downtown bar where we met last night, but Vince wanted to stay at home. It was "too loud" in the bar, he said. He pulled out a bottle of Early Times bourbon, something I hadn't partaken of since leaving Alabama so long ago, and Vince put out a few snacks for us to enjoy. We sat together facing each other on opposite ends of his den couch, with our shoes off and our legs curled up, sipping the pungent bourbon and continuing our reminiscences of the past. Even though he had some soft classical music playing in the background, I kept thinking of a song that had always reminded me of my early life with Vince -- something Glen Campbell had recorded years earlier called "Gentle on My Mind." After a suitable interval, I took a deep breath and opened the door to my long-buried questions that had yearned for answers for more than half my life. It was time. "What happened to us, Vince? We were so close for so many years. Then it all just seemed to evaporate. Did I say something that upset you? I really want...need to know." He looked down for a long time, and I grew uncomfortable. The ball was in his court now, but I had to bite my tongue to keep from blathering on. "This isn't easy for me, Drew. I've never tried to put it in words before, but I've been thinking about it a lot since I got your last letter a week ago, and I figured this would come up." He paused again, and I thought a saw his lower lip quiver a bit. "There were several things that I think contributed to it. For one thing, I felt like you left me, Drew -- you picked up and moved to Indiana with hardly any warning. We'd been closer than brothers for over 15 years, and you just picked up and left me here with no other close friends." "Vince, I had no idea you felt that way...why didn't you say something at the time?" "Let me go on before I lose my nerve here," he said, holding those long slender fingers of his more tightly around his beverage glass. "You knew when you left here that I wouldn't be able to stay in touch because I just never was a letter writer like you. You kept sending me those wonderful letters, but I felt like you were pressuring me to respond, and I didn't have it in me to do that." He grew quiet, so I jumped back in. "I thought I was the one who was left alone after you and Anne got married, Vince. It was never the same between us after that. I had to leave." "What do you mean, Drew? We still had lunch and drinks pretty often, didn't we?" "Yes, but..." "I need to say something else, Drew -- something I never thought I would ever work up the courage to tell you, but the bourbon is helping," he said with a wistful smile. "I tried to downplay it, but I knew you were gay. I'll never forget the way you pounded on your steering wheel that night as you tried to talk to me about it. I think I managed to change the subject, but I know now that I was wrong to do that. You had a right to your feelings, but they were very threatening to me." "How so?" I asked him. "This is the hard part," he said, taking another sip from his glass. "I guess I recognized some of those same feelings in myself and didn't want to acknowledge them. I loved Anne, and I wanted what every Southern man wanted back in those days -- a wife, some kids, a house like this...and the ongoing love and approval of my parents and brother. I wasn't ready in any stretch of the imagination to risk losing all...even any...of that, but I had the distinct impression that you were and it scared the heck out of me." I had to keep my jaw from dropping open at this revelation, but I kept quiet to see if he wanted to go on. He did, but his voice was barely above a whisper now and he wouldn't look directly at me. "I loved you, Drew. You just can't imagine how much. It just about killed me when you left town, and every letter I got from you felt like a knife in my heart. It would've been better if you'd just cut me off completely and let me go on with my life, but you had to keep reminding me how close we'd been and how much you missed me." "Is that why you were so distant that time I came back here for a visit?" I interrupted. "That's pretty much the situation, Drew. I had to put up a barrier of some sort because it was taking a toll on me -- and my marriage. I pretty much wrote you out of my life when you sent me that angry letter after that visit because I didn't think I could keep on loving both Anne and you. I know I wasn't holding up my part of the friendship, but I had to make a choice for my own sanity. "But when you contacted me recently, it was the most wonderful feeling to hear from you," he said, finally looking up at me. "I've been so lonely for the past five years -- pretty much emotionally dead -- but your letter triggered something in me that I didn't even...think was there anymore." Tears were welling up in my eyes, and I knew it wouldn't be long before Vince would notice. He reached for some tissue himself, however, and that gave me a good excuse to do likewise. "I have to confess something, Drew," he went on. "I didn't have a work meeting last night, and I didn't have trouble parking. I just was so nervous about seeing you again that I let too much time go by before I worked up the courage to go inside that bar." "If you'd been two minutes later, I'd have been gone and we wouldn't be sitting here talking about this," I replied, now somewhat miffed at the anguish he'd put me through last evening. "I wouldn't have let you leave alone, Drew. I could see the bar door from my car. I'm sorry I made you feel like I wasn't coming, but I wouldn't have let you leave that place alone. I would've gotten out of my car and stopped you." Somewhat mollified now, I thought about what to say next. Everything I'd heard in the past few minutes was totally unexpected...but very much appreciated. No, that was too weak a word, but I couldn't think of one what adequately described what I was feeling as my Vince revealed his feelings about me and our relationship. I decided I needed to say more about my own feelings. "Vince, I...can't tell you how much all this means to me and how much I've been longing for some sort of explanation as to why our friendship seemed to just die, for no good reason. I loved you, too...I really did. Seeing you marry Anne that day was the hardest thing I've ever experienced. Did you know that?" "No, I guess I didn't. You didn't let on." "I could've made a scene, but I was trying to be a friend and a gentleman. It was your day, but I just never thought it would hurt so much." I paused for a few seconds to find my voice again and then went on. "By the time my marriage was over in 1987, I was convinced that I was gay and tried to find a man I could love like I had once loved you, but it never happened. Every man I met I compared to you, and they all came up sorely lacking. I wanted to contact you again several times over the next few years, but it took me until now to finally do it. I was afraid you would reject me again, and I didn't know if I could handle that. I finally decided recently that I had to at least try. I'm glad you decided to show up at the bar last night." "Me too, my friend. Me too. As scared as I was, I wasn't going to let a chance to see you again slip away. I'm just sorry I made you wait so long." We just sat quietly and looked at each other for a minute. His dark eyes bore into my very soul, and I felt an ache down to my toes. I allowed myself a momentary glimmer of hope. After I excused myself for a quick bathroom break to calm my nerves and think what to say next, I returned to the couch, while Vince got up, refreshed our drinks, and made his own trip down the hall. When he returned, my legs were stretched out in front of me. As I started to pull them back, he stopped me, pulled my sock-clad feet onto his lap and started to gently rub them. Except for handshakes -- and that unexpected but welcome hug in the bar last night -- we hadn't touched each other this much since we were little boys wrestling on the floor of his bedroom or mine. I had wanted to so many times, but he hadn't been a touchy-feely sort of guy once we reached puberty. So to have him stroking my feet like this was like a gift from Heaven, and I closed my eyes and reveled in the feelings he was producing in me. "It's past seven, Drew. Are you hungry?" "Sure. What are you offering?" I hoped he got my double meaning. From his blush, I think he did. "I bought a couple of steaks this morning before you got here. I could put them on the grill right now, if you'd like to throw together a salad for us. I'll nuke some potatoes for us, too." "Sounds great, buddy." We worked side by side in the kitchen and then enjoyed our meal together with a glass of red wine, chatting about less serious matters to put ourselves back at ease again. The pre-dinner "discussion" in his den had been pretty intense, and I knew we were both a little emotionally wrought out from it. By the time we had cleaned up the kitchen, it was almost 10, and I sensed us both getting tense. It was now or never, but I didn't want to do anything that would make him the least bit uncomfortable. He had already made himself pretty vulnerable, so I had to tread carefully. "I suppose I'd better grab a shower and get ready for bed," I said. He looked at the floor and didn't move a muscle. I could tell he was reluctant for the evening to end but equally reluctant to take things any farther -- if he even could. "Okay," he said. "You know where everything is. I put some fresh towels out for you in the guest bathroom. Let me know if you need anything, hear?" There was a lot that I needed, but I didn't know how to ask for it. I finally took a step toward him, and he didn't back away. Less than two seconds later we were in an embrace the likes of which I'd never experienced before. We were both the same size -- six feet tall and 160 pounds -- so we fit together perfectly as our arms wrapped around each other's slim body. No one had ever held me so tightly. I put the side of my head against his and inhaled the scent of him -- still familiar to me after all these years. We stayed like that for a long time, neither of us wishing to be the first to break it. I'd felt like half a man, at best, for the past thirty years, but now -- finally once again, here was my other half in my arms -- my soul mate. My Vince. The man I knew I could no longer live without. Finally I said, "Vince, I have an idea." "What's that, my friend?" "Remember all those sleepovers we used to have as boys?" "How could I forget? That was my happiest childhood memory -- all those times we spent together, day and night." "Let's do it again, Vince. I don't want to be alone tonight. I promise I won't do anything to make you uneasy." He thought about it for a while before responding. "I don't want to be alone either, Drew, but you have to realize this would be a big step for me. I mean it's been almost 40 years since we had a sleepover -- not counting rooming together in separate beds in college, of course. Grown men don't do that -- do they?" "Well, I can't say the same thing, Vince, but all I know is that every man I've ever slept with has made me wish he were you. Even if it never happens again, please let it happen tonight. I need you next to me." "Let me think about it while you take your shower, okay?" "All right, Vince. Take your time. But if you do it, I want it to be because you want to and not just because I asked." "Okay," he said as we wandered off to our respective bedrooms. The guest bathroom was connected to the bedroom I'd been assigned to without me having to walk through the shared hallway. I took my clothes off in my bedroom, walked naked to the bathroom, and let the water run for a while to get hot. I was just finishing washing my face when I turned and was stunned to see an equally nude Vince come into the shower stall with me. My heart leapt. Apparently he had not had to think about it for very long. I hadn't seen his body since our senior year at UA, but it was just as stunning to me now and I felt myself getting hard already. "If we're going to re-enact a sleepover I suppose we should do what we used to do beforehand and bathe together," he said, looking my body over from head to toe. "Get your hair wet and let me give you a shampoo." (To be continued) The story you are reading is based on a real friendship that should have made it to this point but, sadly, did not. Perhaps you've had one like that yourself. In fact, many readers have already told me they did have such a friendship in their past. Please don't reproduce any part of this story without permission, but do write to me if you're so moved. I answer every e-mail, but I don't accept invitations to link to social networking sites. Please put "Vince" in the subject line so I know your message is not spam. Mention your location, if you don't mind. Thank you. To see a clickable list of my other Nifty stories, please click on the "Authors" tab on the Nifty site. Then scroll down and click on "Damian" (but note that "Damian Chandler," just below my name, is a different author). Damian (nvtahoeus@yahoo.com) I encourage you to make a donation to Nifty to support the work they do to make these stories available.