382 Bretton Way
Something mysterious is up with Denver and Toby doesn’t know exactly what it is. When Toby gets home from The Bear’s Den, returning to Bretton Way, all the lights in the house are off, and the doors and windows are locked. Toby discovers a message from his lover on the answering machine in the kitchen. He presses the play button on the digital Panasonic machine and hears Denver’s familiar voice, which is stagnant and not at all himself. He sounds drunk, Toby thinks, or stoned. “Toby…I…I need some space for tonight…Just tonight. Okay? I’m going to spend the night with Minna at her place. I’m turning my phone off so you won’t be able to reach me. Sorry about this, but I just need to…”
Toby realizes that Denver doesn’t finish his sentence, ending his message before he’s done speaking to Toby. Toby thinks about calling Minna, but Minna loathes him and he knows that she won’t help him regarding Denver and his away time, whatever these two words mean. Toby also thinks about driving over to Minna’s condo, but she will probably call the Templeton Police Department and have Toby arrested for trespassing on her property. The final outcome involving the situation is rather elementary: Toby stays put at Denver’s Tudor, takes a shower, and goes to bed, inebriated and pissed off because of Denver’s distance.
* * * *
It’s quite obvious to Toby that Denver has issues with him, and wants to be alone, perhaps even removed from their relationship as lovers. Lately, they haven’t been sharing meals together, showering together, or having sex. They aren’t even going to bed at the same time, since Denver seems to vanish from Toby’s side without saying goodnight or sweet dreams. Denver really hasn’t been spending much time at the Tudor, either, always out and about. Toby knows that he’s usually with Minna, shopping together, eating meals as a couple, and other friendly activities. And no longer are the two of them enjoying cups of coffee at Cup of Beans, watching pornography together, taking midnight walks around Templeton with their arms latched together, swinging to and fro, or simply necking on Denver’s living room sofa.
There’s a reason for Denver’s distance, but Toby just can’t put a finger on it. Toby hasn’t changed much since they’ve been together, if at all, and he can’t figure out exactly what Denver’s problem is. The nutritionist’s workload is light at the gym according to King, and Denver is doing a fine job, bringing new clients in every day, increasing memberships. But when Toby brings up the topic of Denver to King, King raises his arms, opens his palms as if he’s surrendering to Toby’s badgering, and always says, “Don’t get me involved in your relationship. Denver is your man, not mine. You’re a big boy and can figure this out on your own.”
Toby can’t figure this out on his own, though. One minute his relationship with Denver is peachy sweet and flawless, and now Denver is spending nights elsewhere, perhaps avoiding him. Truth is Toby is fucked up in the head about the topic or issue and wishes that Denver’s uninterested behavior will soon stop. He also hopes that he can have his lover back in his arms, and in his bed, exactly where Denver Rawslton belongs.