Date: Fri, 14 Jul 2023 15:52:12 +0000 From: JD in SFO Subject: Making New Memories - Chapter Nine Making New Memories Thank you, Gentle Reader, for opening this story, a series about a man who confronts his past to find a new future. Dave, Jim, and the rest of the cast of characters are fictional, and do not represent any person living or dead. The story is fantasy and exists in that realm, Elements in this story include sex between men, some racier elements might include some kinky sex, but for the most part just good old-fashioned cocksucking and fucking. If you enjoy this story, and others like it, please consider making a donation to keep the Nifty archive free and accessible! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Chapter Nine Before I get started with this installment of Making New Memories, a brief word, if you will: I've heard from many of you over the past few days as Jim's betrayal and the breakdown of trust happened so quickly. I must apologize for how brutal Chapter Eight was, and remark that relationships are often non-linear and have real moments that try them. Our boys' relationship is no different. Let's see if the love they once declared for each other gives them a way to find another chance with each other... And now, on with our story: "What is wrong with you?" Tony was exasperated with my wandering mind. We were sitting in a local bar in San Francisco's Castro. We had a window seat, and we were watching people while sipping on cocktails -- day drinking, the kids call it. I had not been following the conversation at all, my head was in such a distant place. Tony took me out for lunch followed by drinks to cheer me up because he'd decided I was mopey. "What? I am ok. Why are you asking?" I said, annoyed at having been pulled from my overthinking. "It's been a month since you got back from Michigan to deal with your parents. It's not like you were close with them. What's eating you up?" Tony had known me for many years. We'd met before the internet hookup at a bar, the old school way to hook up. After a night of ok sex, we realized we were good friends, but we didn't have chemistry. Since then, we'd become close friends, and seen each other through relationships, job changes, and dying parents. I had not told Tony, or anyone, about Jim. I was so pissed and unsure and off kilter about it, that I could not bring myself to tell even my closest friends. I felt foolish for getting caught up in something so quickly, and I felt hurt for the betrayal, and I felt conflicted at how warm and tingly I would still get when thinking of him. "Everything feels off now, Tone," I said, wondering how honest I were about to be. "I ..." my voice trailed off, as I took a deep breath. "I spent the first few days up at the cabin where it all happened." Tony and I had been friends for decades, and he knew all about my story, my parents. "Did you burn that shithole down and sink your pop's fancy boat?" Tony was a ride or die kind of friend, and I knew if I'd taken him with me, that's exactly what he would have talked me into. I laughed dryly, "I didn't. I did something worse - I am investing some money to update it so I can put it on the market to fetch a better price. The realtor thinks if I give it a nicer kitchen, some updated bathrooms, and winterize it, I could get way more," I continued. "That's what realtors always say. What do they care, it's not their money?" I had to give him that point. "But, I do believe it's true in this case," I weakly defended my choice. "OK, so, that's not so bad," Tony prodded, "certainly that's not what got you in a bad mood." "No, it's the contractor I hired," I timidly admitted. "So fire him, and get a new one. He can't be the only asshole in Michigan that can bang nails and slop paint." These insights were why I loved being friends with Tony. He is unapologetically brash, and always honest. "I fell in love with him." I let it fall onto the table, and picked up my gin and tonic and finished it off. Tony waved at the server, indicating the need for another round. "In three weeks? You met a guy and fell in love? You're the slowest mover, ever, Davy, how did that happen? He must be some awesome guy." Tony is the only person allowed to call me Davy. I hated it, but, then, with Tony, there wasn't much choice. I took a deep breath. "And I got played." Tony grabbed my hand instantly in his meaty paw, and stroked it lovingly. He was all tender and sweet, but there was murder in his eyes. Tony does not like his friends being fucked with. The drinks arrived, and we held them up to clink glasses. "I hope his cock falls off," Tony offered as a toast, and we drank to that. I told Tony the story, the way Jim was, the quiet masculinity, the rugged good looks, the mindblowing sex, the deep thinking, the tender heart, and then the betrayal. "So, literally, the day after he tells you he loves you and wants to be your boyfriend, he fucks this other guy?" Tony verified. "Twice that night, and once the next morning," I glumly recounted. "How did you leave things?" This seemed like an odd question for Tony, who would have recommended I leave him under the tire treads of my rental car. "Well, so that's the really fucked up part. I was leaving, and there was a huge thunderstorm. A mile down the road, a tree had fallen, and Jim's truck was in the ditch. He had been driving to come talk to me. I waited for rescue to come, then went to the hospital and brought him some clothes from his house. "When I was able to see him, he wanted to have a conversation, but he was not in the place to, and I sure as fuck didn't want to hear anything more. But we left it oddly open. He's still going to work on my place, and damnit, I wanted to stay there and take care of him," I was trying not to cry. "Dave, your heart is bigger than your head," Tony's hand was back, holding mine. As if on cue, Tina Turner's voice came over the sound system: "What's love got to do, got to do with it?" I pointed to the ceiling, and we laughed. We spent another round of cocktails talking about my feelings, and how hard they were to shut off, and by the time we were finished, I was glad I'd had my therapy session with Tony. It felt good to talk about what had happened in Michigan with Jim. The next day was Sunday, and it had become a pattern in the last few weeks that Jim would call in the late morning and give an update on the project, check in with any decisions. This time he'd asked to have a video call so he could show me some samples and we could make some decisions about finishes. I showered, dressed comfortably, and poured another cup of coffee, and set up the laptop on my little deck overlooking my backyard. October was San Francisco's warmest month, usually, and today was bright and sunny. A few minutes later, Jim's upper body and face materialized on my screen. "Hi," Jim's opening line was short. "Happy Sunday," I replied, equally uncommitted. I was not certain about this video call, I felt a little nervous about actually seeing his face as opposed to checking in with texts or phone calls. I did not want to show emotion one way or another until I knew which direction things would lean. "It looks nice there," he commented. "Here, it's pouring and freezing." Jim looked bundled up in a warm flannel shirt, "Yeah, October is when San Francisco has its summer. One last burst of warmth before the rain comes," were we really talking about the weather? I paused, to let him either continue this chit chat or move us into business. To my surprise, he did neither. "Dave, it's really good to see you. You're looking good," Jim spoke quietly, unsure of how a compliment might be received. I took a long moment to consider my next step. My first inclination was to ignore it and move us along, but that annoying part of my brain that listened to my heart was pinging - it did feel good to see him. And so I said so; "I am glad to see you, too," and then I ventured, "I've missed seeing you." I regretted it as soon as I said it, true as it might have been, it also annoyed me that I let him know that. He didn't laugh it off, or make the obvious throw-away line like "missed me, eh?" or something equally obnoxious; instead he replied "I had no idea how much I would or could miss you, until you were not here anymore." Again, I was faced with a choice. I had every right to throw this moment in his face, or to say something dismissive or hurtful. Or I could continue the honesty. "Yeah, Jim, it hurts to feel so distant from you," I took a big gulp of coffee, wishing I had something stronger. "Sometimes I get frustrated with myself for missing you, but I can't quite talk myself out of it. I don't want to be angry with you." "So how do you deal with those moments when you feel that way?" Jim asked. I felt like he was genuinely asking, not trying to lead me into an emotional trap. "My good friend reminded me that just because we miss someone after we've broken up, doesn't mean we should not have broken up. The emotional connection takes longer to end or fade than the decision," Since telling Tony, I'd opened up to a few more of my friends about my Michigan fiasco, and I'd had mixed advice, but this learning seemed to make the most sense to me. Jim looked nervous, even sad. He fidgeted, and I could tell he was reaching for his cigarettes. Sure enough he popped one in his mouth, and lit it, took a deep drag, and let it out slowly. I had come to know this was a way Jim took time before saying something. It gave him a natural pause. "So, are we broken up?" His voice almost shook as he asked the question. I was genuinely confused, and my heart rate sped up considerably. How could he not think things were over? I stalled for time. "Well, eh, don't you think we are? I mean, what mindset have you had over the past few weeks?" "Well, I know I fucked up, but I thought ... your last words when you touched my face ..." his hand went to the exact place on his forehead that I had touched in our last exchange, as I brushed the hair off his face in his hospital bed. He rubbed it, almost as if he could still feel my hand there. "... I thought there was hope for a second chance," he finished. It felt like he wanted to say more, but he was waiting to see my reaction. I went for petty: "Do you have time for two boyfriends?" I grimaced as soon as the words had fallen out of my bitter lips. Jim winced. My blow had hit him hard. But he took a deep inhale and let the smoke out. "I ended things with Ian. And he was never my boyfriend." His words had a bit of a defensive voice to them, but he was staying calm, almost repentant. "I don't know what he was or wasn't to you, Jim, but he certainly felt like he had a strong place in your life, or did I get that wrong?" I almost doubted myself. "No, no, he definitely has feelings for me, and I had done nothing to change his mind. I'd led him on, and had every intention of ending things when I went for that evening in TC, but, it was clear that he had really built things up, and I did not want to let him down," Jim reasoned. "So, this was Ian's fault?" I said, with mock skepticism. I was being a dick, but Jim's lack of accountability was beginning to piss me off. Jim took a deep breath, relaxed his shoulders, and looked directly into the camera. "No. It was my fault. I was in love with you, afraid of what would happen if you left, and had a moment of panic in which I tried to hedge my bets so I wouldn't be alone. I was the asshole. I hurt two people who cared for me, and for whom I cared, and I have wasted this moment losing the one guy I have genuinely loved." Jim took a double inhale of his cigarette, and took the smoke deep into his body. His lips were trembling. Well, so there it was. I had the explanation, Jim was truly contrite, I verified what he felt for me, I'd made him squirm, and I did not feel any better. No closure. No final moment of victory. No righteous indignation. Just a longing. Neither of us said anything for a moment, and our eyes stayed connected through cameras and screens. I finished my coffee, and took a moment to deliberately set down the mug, giving some reason for this pause in conversation. "Do you still love me?" I ventured. One last question to which I needed the answer. "Yes." There was no hesitation from him. It was my turn to be honest. "I love you, too. And I am scared. But mostly, I am certain." Jim had been holding his breath, perhaps unconsciously. It came out in a rush of air and a groan, a sigh of relief. He took a final drag on his cigarette and stubbed it out. "Well, now what do we do?" The light returned to his face and the corners of his grey eyes crinkled with his smile. "I have no clue. It was all easier when I was mad at you," I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. I felt elated, and my heart was pounding. I also felt afraid, wondering what I was opening myself up to. If Tony were here, he would have shut my laptop by now, and taken it away from me. Fortunately, Jim laughed, too. "I guess, let's just keep going forward, with our project and also with our check-ins. Oh, and unless you're jacking off, keep your dick in your pants," I scolded. "Aye Aye, Cap'n," Jim saluted me. "So does this mean you're my boyfriend?" He was pushing, but it was right to be clear. No more ambiguity if we were to have a chance. I held up my left hand. "Let's hold off on labels, please. I am not sure that it matters what we call ourselves right now, but I will be true to you, and just you, if you'll be the same," I couldn't believe we'd covered this in twenty minutes of chatting on a webcam. We continued catching up on personal things and on the project, and eventually signed off. Later that afternoon I got a text from Tony. "What up, whore. We're at beer bust. Get your ass here." Succinct. Tony and his crew were probably well into their beers at the Lone Star, but I decided to put on some jeans and go to meet them. I took an Uber to the Loin Stare, as I liked to call it, and found Tony surrounded by his clutch of bears in the back. I'd stopped at the bar along the way to fill up on cheap suds, and I took a long drink. They were at that drinking place where they were beyond happy and quickly approaching sloppy. This was going to be fun. "Hey Tone," I clapped him on the shoulder as I sidled up next to him. "Bitch, you made it!" He threw his arms around me and kissed me. "Dude, did you eat shit tacos for lunch? Your mouth tastes like ass," I replied, getting in the mood. "He probably ate some ass in the bathroom - he was gone long enough!" Robert, another one of the cohort, cackled. This set off a round of trash talk in which everyone bagged on everyone else. I was about to drain the rest of my beer and go for a refill, when Tony caught my arm. "Not so fast! When you get a refill, you can get a beer here for Mark, too." He shoved me toward a tall nordic looking bear. "Give Dave your glass like a good bear," Tony said over my shoulder. "Um, hi. Do you want another beer?" I asked a blushing Mark. "Sure, that would be nice," he was very polite. I took his glass and mine and went up to the outside bar to get two more. Jostling them back, I found Mark again, who had separated himself from the loud constellation in which Tony orbited. Handing him his beer, I introduced myself. "Hi, I am Dave. You must be Mark?" "Yep, that's me," he said, still blushing. We chit-chatted for a bit. He was new to town, having been moved here by his company to work in their new San Francisco outpost. He was staying with a friend until he found a place, and so far, he'd been to view a bunch of places but none of them felt right. I was just telling him my take on various neighborhoods when Tony came up. He put his meaty arms around both of us, and brought us together, nearly touching. "Good, I see you two are hitting it off. Mark is a nice bear, just the kind of guy you need to be getting to know!" Tony said, playing matchmaker. Mark furiously blushed. I blanched. "Tony, I don't need your help." I said it quietly, hoping to get him to back off gently. But Tony was drunk by that time, and long past subtle social cues. "You do need my help. That cheater who dicked you over this summer is history. See, here, Mark is a nice boy from Chicago. You like midwestern bears," he slurred, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. I picked up Tony's arm from off my shoulder. "Stop." I looked directly into his eyes. "She's sensitive today," Tony giggled, not picking up that I was done with this conversation. "Here," he grabbed my phone out of my shirt pocket where I kept it, "send yourself a text so he has your number," he handed my phone to Mark. Mark looked horrified, and went to hand me back my phone. I took it from him, and addressed him. "Thanks. I am sorry for this. It's a bit awkward. I am gonna take off. Welcome to San Francisco." Tony made a move toward me, but I saw Mark put his hand on Tony's arm to stop him. I exited the bar and leaned against the wall to call and wait for a ride. Within a couple of minutes, Mark came out, too, and he walked up to me. "I am so sorry about that. I'd seen you on Tony's Facebook page and told him I thought you were cute, and then ... he did all that," Mark was blushing again. I laughed. "It's no sweat. It was not Tony's best moment. His heart is in the right place, it just can't keep pace with his liver at the moment," I kept things good natured. Mark laughed. "I am going to grab a bite to eat. Do you want some dinner, no awkward conversation?" My stomach grumbled at that moment. "Let me cancel my car, and let's find some food," I agreed. We ended up having burritos and a really nice conversation. Mark was funny and sharp, and moved easily between topics. We laughed at the same jokes, and liked many of the same things. He had hinted once about my recent dating debacle in Michigan, but I shut it down pretty quickly, not wanting to bring anyone else into this. Plus, truth be told, I was still processing the morning's events which had seen what I thought was over rekindled. After we finished, we shared an Uber home, as he lived in the Panhandle, and would be passing through my neighborhood on his way. In the car, I brought up swapping phone numbers. "Hey, if you'd like, I'd be happy to show you some of my favorite places in the City, grab a bite. It's not all Lone Star and burritos," I offered. "Sure, it would be nice to meet a new friend," Mark replied, cheerfully. And he added my number to his phone and sent a text to confirm. "Great! Hit me up later this week, and we'll make a plan," I said, as I opened the car door to jump out. He waved back, and that was it. I walked up the stairs to my front door and was in for the night. Throughout the weeks of October Jim and I swapped texts, some about the renovation, some just funny. We sent a couple of pics back and forth of things we were doing. It was light, fun. In a way it felt much more like dating had felt when we'd been together in Northern Michigan. It was intimate even though we weren't fucking, it was romantic even though we couldn't cuddle, it was close even though we were far away. We also kept up our Sunday conversation, now always a video call. I looked forward to my dates with Jim. As Hallowe'en approached, I asked Jim "Hey, how would you feel about coming to San Francisco for Thanksgiving? I usually do an orphan friends Thanksgiving dinner here, and it would be really nice to see you, and to spend some time showing you this side of the world." Jim took a deep drag of his cigarette, a sign he needed time to think. I waited patiently. "Ah, well, that's an awful long trip for a weekend," Jim hesitated. "Well, who said anything about a weekend. Stay a week, two weeks. I hear the boss is a nice guy and will give you some time off the project," I grinned, but I could tell there was something else. Another drag, deeper still, and he let the smoke sift slowly out his nose. "I've never been on a plane," he admitted. "Wow, ok, I had not thought of that," I responded, trying not to sound too shocked. "Are you willing to try if I promise to make it worth your while when you get here?" I winked. Jim chuckled. "Ok. I'll give it a whirl, but if I have a panic attack and jump out of the plane, don't say I didn't warn you!" We talked for a bit more about the trip, and decided Jim would come out for two weeks, aiming to be back before December snow got too rough. I also knew Jim was giving up some hunting time in November and December, but I was confident that I could help him forget about it. In early November, I ran into Tony at the grocery store. "Hey, Tony," I said, as we pulled our carts out of the way in the produce zone. "Hey Sweetie! How've you been?" We caught up for a couple of minutes about things, and then I got around to Thanksgiving. "We'll be setting an extra place this year at Thanksgiving. Jim is going to come out for a visit," I informed him. "Dinner is at 4, but you're welcome to drop by anytime to watch the game." "What? You invited him to Thanksgiving?" Tony was surprised, but his voice had a tinge of outrage to it. "Well, yeah, I told you that we were giving things a go," I responded, reminding him that I'd told him a couple of weeks ago about our big conversation. "Yeah, but I didn't think you'd invite him all the way to San Francisco from Hicksville. Will they even let him on the plane?" Tony seemed like he was joking but there was a hit of derision in his tone. I decided to take a more serious approach. "Is this going to be a problem for you?" My words sounded invitational, but left little doubt that he should either get on board, or figure out a new plan. "Nah, nah, buddy. I just worry about you getting hurt. I'll be my usual sweet self," he winked. "So, who all is coming this year?" I listed off our single friends who weren't traveling: "Carlos, Steve, your majesty, Jim, and me. I thought I'd ask Mark, too." Tony nodded in acknowledgment. "Can I bring the yams? Mine are better than yours," he said with a laugh. He came in for a hug. "Yams are all yours, big guy." We hugged, and parted ways with a smile. I finished up my work projects early in the week that Jim was arriving, because I wanted some time to get everything ready, and also to have some time off while he was in town. I did not want to waste any time while he was around working if I could help it. Jim was set to arrive on the Saturday before Thanksgiving. That would give us nearly a week to hang out, some of which would be taken with preparing the meal, of course. And it would give us the whole next week just to be together. I kept a pretty tidy house, but I wanted to make an extra good impression on Jim, so I cleaned into the corners, scrubbed the bathroom tile, even cleaned the windows. Everything was sparkling. On Saturday morning, I did a pass through, just making sure everything was perfect. The fridge was stocked with snacks and beer and food I knew Jim liked. I put fresh linens and a clean blanket on the bed. I fluffed the guest towels for the third time. Looking around, I realized that I did not have any ashtrays. None of my friends were smokers, and indoor smoking was barely a thing anymore, but I knew Jim's habits pretty well by now. I opened up the hutch in the dining room and sorted through the back of the cabinet. There were four crystal ashtrays with a silver rim that I had found in an antique store. I had always imagined an evening of poker and cigars, but, well, I was a fancy gay, so I liked things to look good. I had never managed to find a group of cigar smokers or poker players, and so they'd sat in the cabinet for years. I pulled them out, quickly hit the silver rim with some polish, and then placed them: one in the living room, one near the bed, one in the den, and one on the kitchen table. I was ready. I pulled on some nice jeans, a tshirt, a flannel shirt, and slipped on some low boots. It looked appropriately autumnal, even if the November day was in the upper sixties. Checking myself one final time in the mirror, I went down to the garage and hopped in my truck. I know it was impractical living in a city, but I had always owned a pickup. From my first one at sixteen `til now, you can take the boy out of Michigan but you can't take the Michigan out of the boy. The drive to San Francisco International Airport was quick, and in no time I had parked and made it to the arrival greeting area where Jim would descend the escalator to baggage claim. We'd spoken the night before, assuring him that he would be ok, and I knew he had one bag that he'd checked. I have been flying my whole life. My grandparents lived out of state, so from childhood, I had been on planes. I did not think about what it would be like for someone who had never been on a plane, let alone after 9/11, so I had walked through the whole process from boarding pass and bag drop, through security and finding his gate. The Traverse City "Cherry Capital" airport was no problem: there were six gates, and little chance at confusion. Jim would have to change planes in Minneapolis. I explained the monorail, and how to find out his arrival gate and departure gate. He had ninety minutes to make it. He was dismayed to learn that he would not be able to smoke in the airports, and that he likely did not have time to make it outside in Minneapolis and back through security in order to have a smoke, so he'd have to go most of the day without it. Already anxious, this made him moreso. But we talked every step through. He'd texted saying he was getting on his first flight, and I'd heard from him in Minneapolis, so I knew he'd made it. Now I just had to wait for him to appear on the escalator. I was really excited, nervous, too. A lot had happened, and certainly our conversations had been forward-focused and positive, but the way it had come crashing down was still in the back of my mind. I knew there were parts of that process, and the emotions around it, that we had not yet discussed. They were better in-person conversations. But mostly I wanted to hold him and smell him, and see him. The rest would sort itself out. End Chapter Nine I certainly feel better about how this chapter is ending as opposed to Chapter Eight. Jim and Dave still have some work to do if they're going to move forward as anything more than contractor and employer, though. I hope they can get back their magic. We'll find out more in Chapter Ten, the outline of which is already underway.