Weekend at the Beach
THE next morning as planned, Marco was at Cole’s house at 7:00 a.m. Cole and Riley were ready to roll, since they didn’t have much to take. Cole had a backpack for himself, a small bag of Riley’s food, treats, and toys, and a separate bag with his camera and a couple of lenses. The two of them were out the door and in the car a minute after Marco rang the bell.
At that early hour on a Saturday morning, there was no significant traffic. Had it been a regular weekday morning, the roads would have been clogged with tens of thousands of vehicles all trying to get to the same place at the same time. No one went anywhere very fast on weekdays.
But Saturday mornings were different. Everyone who commuted Monday through Friday slept in on Saturday and relished a day in which they were free from the early hours and the heavy traffic. As a result, Cole, Marco, and Riley made excellent time getting out of Washington that morning.
The traffic cooperated, the traffic lights cooperated, and before it seemed possible, they were through Annapolis and heading up over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. Cole looked out and marveled. The day was brilliantly clear. The views from the bridge were spectacular. Since Marco was doing the driving and they were riding in an SUV, they sat high enough that Cole had spectacular views off the side of the bridge.
While he had traversed the Chesapeake Bay Bridge before, it had been years since he had done so—so long, in fact, he could not recall the last time he had made the trip, not even the occasion. As they rode high above the bay below, Cole felt absolutely uplifted and overjoyed to be where he was at that very moment. He looked over at Marco and smiled.
Traffic was negligible all the way, so they made excellent time. When Marco pulled into the driveway less than three hours after they started, Cole was suitably impressed. Cole hadn’t known what to expect—he really didn’t care all that much. In his years he’d slept in some incredibly horrible conditions in backwater countries. Granted, the older he got the less fond he was of that, but still, he had done it before and could do it again.
But one look at the house told him backwater conditions were about as far from what he would have to contend with this weekend as the moon was from where they were at the moment. The house was magnificent. Huge and magnificent.
“This is your parent’s home?” Cole asked in surprise.
“Yep. This is their weekend place. But like I said, they just don’t use it much anymore, so it’s mostly mine. And I love coming out here.”
“Why in the world don’t they come here anymore? This place is incredible!”
“My mom is really into horses now, so a few years ago they bought a small farm out in Virginia. Every weekend she’s out there taking care of her horses, riding them, training them. My dad goes with her because he wants to be wherever she is. So that’s why I get to use this place. A couple of years ago they talked about selling it, but fortunately I talked them out of it and told them I would take care of the place, keep it up, keep it used. They went for it.”
Marco led them inside. As they had driven up, Cole had been overwhelmed by the size and grandeur of the house. Inside, his awe continued to increase. The house was truly imposing. The side that faced the ocean—granted, several hundred yards away—was all glass, permitting a full, unfettered view of the majestic sweep of the sand dunes and the ocean beyond.
As with most beach houses, this one had multiple stories. Marco led Cole and Riley upstairs to check out the views from the second and third floors. “Oh wow!” was all Cole could say when he looked out the wall of windows from the third floor. That elevation provided an absolutely unrivaled view. And it was spectacular. The beach and the coastline seemed to stretch for miles. Looking either left or right, the view was the same amazing one—waves lazily crashing onto the beach.
“I bet this would be an awesome place to watch a big storm come in,” Cole said with the smile of a little kid.
“Oh yes!” Marco readily agreed. “Whenever we get big storms, if it’s not too dangerous, I try to be out here and ride it out in the house. For one, I like watching—there’s nothing like the wind, the water, the waves, the rain, all of nature’s fury coming out all at once. Wind blowing against the house until it seems to shake everything, rain pelting the house from nearly every direction at once, and waves crashing ashore with more force than any other time. For another, if something does happen to the house, I’m right here and can take care of it on the spot rather than find out about it a week later when I’m next out here.”
Cole nodded almost reverentially at the explanation.
“Okay, give me a hand getting things out of the car?”
“Of course.”
The three of them traipsed back downstairs and unloaded the things Marco had packed in the trunk of the car. They hadn’t stopped anywhere on the way out, but now Cole understood why.
The trunk was filled with everything the two of them could need in terms of food or provisions.
“Wow! You got a lot of groceries,” Cole commented as he stared at the full trunk.
“I keep a lot of stuff at the house, but the perishable things always have to be brought in. And I didn’t know what you’d like, so I bought a little of everything.” Marco began pulling bags from the trunk as he continued. “We’ve got steaks to grill. Or boneless chicken breasts I marinated yesterday. And we’ve got tons of fresh fruit and vegetables.”
Cole took one look at the things and said, “We are just staying for the weekend? You’re not going to kidnap me and hold me here for six weeks, right?” he joked.
“I just like to be prepared.”
“You succeeded,” he agreed.
They got everything into the house and put away, Marco made some iced tea for them, and then asked if Cole wanted to go out for a look at the beach.
“Absolutely! Lead the way.”
Riley ran ahead, loving the opportunity to romp free of a leash. First he’d run ahead and then dash back to urge his two humans to move on more quickly. Then he’d dash ahead again, see something, run that way, run back, and bark. He looked like he was having a ball.
And speaking of balls, Marco had come prepared in that regard as well. From his pocket he pulled a yellow tennis ball, which he waved at Riley. Riley had a particular weakness for tennis balls. If he saw one while they were out walking, even if it was in use, he’d try to grab it. Instantly the dog’s focus was on the tennis ball. Marco started running and threw the ball as far as he could. Riley took off barking and chased the ball.
He scooped it up in his mouth and ran back, dropping the ball at Marco’s feet. Understanding his role in this cycle, Marco picked it up and threw it again. After the third throw, Marco asked Cole if he could throw the ball. It was only when Cole picked it up that he realized what Marco had done.
“Oh, ick! This ball is soaked with dog saliva and coated with sand. This is disgusting! You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Moi? Would I do that?” Marco asked, trying to look as innocent as possible. Cole started toward Marco and chased him down the beach, the two of them laughing as they frolicked at the water’s edge. Riley romped right along with them, barking his instructions every few seconds.
After an hour of playing on the beach, Marco suggested they go in for lunch, which made perfect sense to Cole. He knew Riley would go wherever his humans were going. They were his pack, and the pack stuck together. That was the dog rule. One for all and all for one.
Marco grilled some chicken and some vegetables for lunch, which they ate on the deck just off the main level of the house. When the food was consumed, Cole put his head back, basking in the sun, and said, “Marco. I cannot thank you enough. You, my friend, are a lifesaver.”
“There was no way I was going to leave you to mope around the house all weekend. You looked so down yesterday. I knew that I had to do something. You want to talk about what’s been making you so down lately?”
Cole looked at Marco and said, “I’m not entirely sure I can put it into words.”
Marco told him he knew what would help, then he dashed into the house. A moment later he was back with two icy-cold beers. He handed one to Cole, and then they clinked bottle necks.
“Okay, now you can talk. Beer makes it all better in my experience.”
“Certainly can help to lubricate things a bit.”
“Sometimes it only takes a little lubrication,” Marco said, then looked away quickly.
Cole bit back a smile at Marco’s discomfort and chose to move past the comment. He watched Marco breathe a sigh of relief as Cole spoke.
“You sure you want to hear this? I hate the thought of doing anything to ruin such a perfect day.”
“I want to hear it. It makes you sad, so it’s important to hear what’s causing it and see if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“You’re already doing it,” Cole said, giving Marco a smile. When Marco looked expectantly at him, Cole realized he wasn’t able to get off the hook that easily.
“I guess it’s a combination of things. This whole court thing has dragged on for so long I almost feel like I’ve been held hostage to the story. I can’t do my job until the president does his job, so I feel like a racehorse stuck in the starting gate.
“Plus this whole dating thing has been a huge bummer. Everyone my own age is coupled and settled. People younger than me consider me old, even though I don’t see myself as old.”
“You’re not.”
“An intern at work referred to me as one of her ‘elders’, which was a slap in the face. And it’s been impossible to have a decent date. I’m beginning to think I’m doomed to grow old alone with just my work and no one to share my life with. And that’s a depressing thought. I’ve had a phenomenal string of mediocre or just plain horrible dates. If I don’t intimidate people, I’m distracted by work and don’t pay enough attention. It’s all just a mess.”
Marco listened carefully and attentively as Cole described the cause of his morose feeling the last few weeks.
“But you’ve given me the best alternative I’ve had in longer than I can remember. Your invitation for this weekend couldn’t be better timed. I couldn’t ask for better company or a more beautiful place. I owe you, my friend.”
“Glad I could help, dude.”
“I love it when you call me ‘dude’,” Cole admitted sheepishly.
“Why?”
“It makes me feel young again.”
“Dude, that’s all I’m gonna call you from now on! You’re not old—not by a long shot—and I’m not going to tolerate you thinking of yourself as old! Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir!” Cole said.
“Good.”
Together they cleared up the dishes from the grilling and from lunch, and then Marco suggested they go for a walk along the beach to take advantage of the beautiful afternoon and to work up to naptime.
Cole and Riley readily agreed, so the three of them set off for an excursion down the beach. The two men walked and talked, shared, questioned, threw the ball for Riley, who romped in and out of the water. They soaked in the beautiful day, the sunlight, and the fresh sea air. For two hours they walked back and forth, occasionally passing others who were out doing the same.
While some clearly recognized Cole, he was relieved no one came up to him. People just let him be himself, not Cole the news guy. Instead, he was able to just be Cole the guy—the guy who was happier than he had been in weeks and weeks and weeks.
As a man who investigated and gathered facts for a living, Cole was used to analyzing situations. He was happy, that was a fact. And Marco, this place, this weekend had a lot to do with that happiness. Cole looked at Marco as the man laughed and threw the ball to Riley.
Was there something in Marco’s sidelong looks? In the way he smiled at Cole. No, Cole dismissed the thought as fanciful wishing. He was an intelligent, educated, and logical man, and as such was convinced no one as wonderful as Marco would be gay; Cole’s world just didn’t work that way.
The long walk on the beach left Cole predisposed to taking a nap. When they returned to the house, Cole lay down in a lounge chair on the deck and immediately fell asleep. When Cole woke about an hour later, he was surprised to find Marco in the kitchen with an array of things on the stove that smelled wonderful.
“Morning,” he said groggily.
“Not morning. Almost evening.”
“Did I fall asleep?”
“Oh yeah. You needed it. You looked so peaceful. It was great.”
“Looks like you’ve been busy,” Cole observed.
“Just putting a few things together for our dinner. Do you like steak?”
“Oh yes. And those look like wonderful steaks, if I may say so.”
“You may. And I agree. They look great. Would you do me a favor and go out and light the grill? I want it to warm up a few minutes before I grill the first part of dinner.”
“Absolutely.”
A few minutes later when the grill was warmed enough, Marco went out and loaded it with ears of corn with all the husks removed and a light coating of olive oil applied. Along with the corn, he put sliced and oiled onions on the grill as well as sliced tomatoes and sliced peppers. Cole watched the entire operation with fascination. Cole loved food, but he was the first to admit he was no cook and had no right going anywhere near a kitchen.
But Cole found watching Marco cook to be a joy. The man simply made it look so natural. As he flipped things or turned things, the two of them shared another beer and talked. They seemed not to run out of things to talk about.
When the first part of the grill work was done, the two of them carried the vegetables into the kitchen, where Cole was mesmerized as Marco cut the grilled corn off the cobs. Then he watched the man dice the grilled onions, tomatoes, and peppers before throwing all of them into a big bowl and drizzling olive oil and balsamic vinegar over the mountain of wonderful smelling vegetables.
As Cole watched Marco casually toss and mix the salad together, he started to salivate.
“My God, that looks and smells fantastic! Where did you get the recipe?”
“Um, I don’t have a recipe. I just grab things I like and sort of make it up as I go. I hope that’s okay,” he said hesitantly.
“Better than okay. I am even in greater awe of you than I was before, and I’ve got to tell you, you had a pretty lofty place already.” Marco’s uncertain look morphed into one of pleasure as he smiled at the compliment.
Cole accompanied his friend back out to the deck to watch him throw the steaks on the grill. Marco left them for a moment to go back inside and pull a bottle of white wine out of the freezer where he’d had it chilling. After uncorking the wine, he poured a glass for each of them and made a toast. “To good friends, good food, good weather, and good dogs, and getting away from everything to be able to look at it from a different angle for a change.”
“Here! Here!” Cole readily agreed.
Cole was fascinated as he watched Marco check the steaks and then flip them over.
While the steaks cooked for a few more minutes, Marco dashed back inside to slice some sourdough bread. By the time the steaks were finished, the table was set inside and everything was ready. Marco had grilled three steaks on the assumption Riley could be persuaded to have a little for his dinner as well.
When the two men sat at the table, Cole was smiling as much as before, only now it was because of the company and the wonderful food his friend had prepared as well.
“A feast,” he said enthusiastically.
One bite of the steak left Cole moaning with delight. “Oh my God, that is the best-tasting steak I think I’ve ever had.”
“I doubt that,” Marco commented, “but thank you.”
“I’m not kidding. I love this particular cut of meat, and the grilled taste is perfect. And your corn-veggie salad is better than just plain vegetables any day of the week. I’ve never had anything like this, but I love it! You, my friend, have created not just a great meal, you’ve created a whole new me—which is good, because I was getting pretty sick of the old me. He needed to be sent packing. I just wasn’t quite sure how to do it, so I thank you for doing what I couldn’t.”
Between the two of them, they finished off the bottle of white wine—mostly before dinner—and made serious inroads into a very nice bottle of red wine Marco had opened to go with the main meal.
As he checked the label of the bottle, Cole noticed Marco had selected well. One thing he knew was wine, and apparently Marco did as well. Either that, or he at least knew who to consult when selecting wine.
When they finished eating, Cole insisted on helping clean up.
“What do you mean ‘help’? I cooked, so you’re doing the cleanup. Get to work.”
Cole readily agreed, jumping up to clear away the dishes and start the cleanup. He was relieved when Marco joined him, one, because working together the cleanup just went quicker, and two, because Marco knew where things went after they were washed and dried and Cole did not.
That night when Cole closed his eyes and went to sleep, it was as a happier man than he had been in weeks. Cole’s mind replayed the warmth of the day on the beach, the splendid dinner, and his newfound happiness. As he began drifting off to sleep, something nagged at the edge of his consciousness.
Had Marco been quiet at dinner? Somehow Cole’s compliments on the meal and all that Marco had done for him hadn’t seemed to have brought the same sparkle of joy to Marco. Cole had been too happy to have taken in Marco’s demeanor; he had wanted to share his happiness with Marco. And while Marco had expressed what a wonderful day it had been, there was something in his voice… something in his eyes….
But before Cole could grasp the fact, investigate it, analyze it, the warmth of the wine and the pleasure of the day had him dozing off to a sound sleep.