THE DOOR that Blue had disappeared through opened and brought John out of his musings. At last it was Blue.
And even though John knew it couldn’t have been even a half hour since Blue had gone through that door, it seemed like forever.
His heart was pounding.
Blue…. God, please have him be okay….
Blue was smiling!
He gave John his results, though the outcome was already written all over his face. Blue needed to say the words, so John let him. He was negative.
To John’s surprise, he found himself thanking God, and he meant it with all his heart.
Thank you, God. Thank you for sending me an angel and for letting him be negative. And forgive me for not believing in you. Thank you.
After that, all John could do was kiss Blue. His angel.
John didn’t wonder again how it had all happened. How he fell so fast.
But he did decide to thank God every day from then on.
THEY STOPPED at home only long enough to pick up Chewie. It was his day to get the cast removed.
To Blue’s surprise his dog perked up and seemed excited when they pulled up in front of Four-Footed Friends. He’d been worried that Chewie would be afraid. After all, his only experiences with the place had involved pain. But no. He began to bounce about and bark as if he were about to see long-lost friends.
It hit Blue then, of course.
Chewie knew.
Dogs were very intelligent, and he knew. Knew these people had helped him. Knew they hadn’t been the source of his pain.
John was smiling at them both from the front seat. He reached out with that big hand of his, ruffled the hair on Chewie’s head, and said, “Good boy,” and, “I love dogs. He knows something good is going to happen.”
Blue grinned.
And was pleasantly surprised at the joy the love in John’s eyes brought him. More love than Blue ever thought he would have, ever dreamed he could have.
“I love you too, Blue.”
Blue felt almost light-headed. “Good,” he said. “I live for your love.”
John’s eyes widened slightly, and then he smiled and the world was good.
So they took Chewie inside, and surprise, surprise, the whole gang was there. Not only Hound Dog and Elaine—who owned and ran the place—but Mara, Elaine’s girlfriend, as well. And of course, Dr. Lee, who said that anyone could have done what needed to be done today, but he wasn’t going to miss it for the world.
They clapped when Blue and John came in, and Chewie barked happily and did his magical hobble on his cast, which after all this time looked almost graceful, and then sat and gave them all a big happy doggy smile.
“You ready to get that thing off, big boy?” Dr. Lee asked, bending and resting his hands on his knees.
Chewie barked as if to let them know that he had never been more ready for anything in his life.
Everyone laughed at that, and then Dr. Lee took Chewie to the back. There were far too many of them to join him, and Elaine assured Blue that his dog would be just fine. She offered them coffee, but Blue was already so high-strung with all that had happened today he might simply explode if he had any caffeine.
They sat in the little break room—and little was the right word considering there were four of them. H.D. was helping Dr. Lee, which made Blue feel good. Hound Dog was almost magic.
“Well, how have you been?” Elaine asked and then took a drink of coffee, apparently not worried in the least about caffeine consumption.
“I’m negative!” Blue blurted, as usual not thinking before speaking.
Mara’s eyebrows shot up. “You seem awfully cheerful for someone who’s negative!”
“Huh?” Blue asked, confused.
John put an arm around him, gave him a squeeze, and explained. “We just got back from the health clinic. Blue is HIV negative.”
“Oh!” said Mara.
“Great news!” said Elaine.
And classy as they both were, neither asked if Blue should have been concerned either way.
Friends, Blue thought. They’re my friends.
He had friends.
Real friends.
The happy couple—Mara was leaning her head on Elaine’s shoulder—certainly didn’t want or need anything from him. They were simply his friends. No ulterior motives. The only place he’d felt like that in a long time was camp. Heartland Queer Men’s Festival. Those men had loved him with no expectations either.
Until Big Sir.
Would he ever be able to go back to camp again?
But no. He couldn’t think of that today.
This is a good day!
They didn’t have to wait long. In a surprisingly short time, Chewie came all but bounding into the room and ran straight to Blue. Chewie barked, looked at his shaved doggie leg, and then gave Blue a curious look and another short bark.
“Yup,” Blue said. “That’s your leg, all right!”
Happy dog smile. Soon replaced by that soulful look he got when he wanted something.
“You need to go potty?” Blue asked.
No response.
“You thirsty?”
Nothing.
“Walk?”
Almost something. A furry doggy brow seemed to lift a bit within all the hair that surrounded it.
It was John who said it aloud. “Treat?”
Chewie came alive with joy and many loud barks amid even more laughter. John pulled a dried duck foot (Chewie’s favorite) from somewhere and slipped it into Blue’s hand, fooling Chewie, who had shoved his face into John’s lap, completely (for all of twenty seconds). He smelled it then, though, and practically jumped into Blue’s lap.
“I wouldn’t let him jump or put all his weight on that leg any more than you have for the past two months,” Dr. Lee said, seeming to almost magically appear in the doorway. “At least for a week or so.”
Blue nodded solemnly but then couldn’t help but laugh as Chewie began to desperately circle his chair, like a shark that had sensed blood in the water. So he opened his hand, showed Chewie the duck foot, and then handed it to him. Chewie snapped it up, missing Blue’s fingertips by the usual mere millimeters.
Then he was in a corner, snuffling and snorting in joy over his mummified delicacy.
Somehow it was easier to talk after that, and talk they all did, giving Chewie time to devour his cast-removal award (which didn’t take long), and then Blue got a surprise when Elaine revealed they would be at his and John’s place at six with brats and coleslaw.
She said, “Your all’s place,” and not “John’s place,” and Blue finally believed it was true. Somehow he’d gone from squatting in an abandoned house with no electricity and sleeping on a piss-stained mattress to living in a big beautiful home with a big beautiful man and… it was his place too. He thought so. He was pretty sure so. He didn’t know how it had happened, but it had.
Then Chewie’s face was in his lap and his tail was moving so fast it could barely be seen, and Blue knew this dog had somehow helped change his entire life.
“Just promise me you’ll never leave me.”
“I’ll try my damnedest,” Chewie yipped back (Blue was sure that was what he said), and after that the day only got better.
THEY TOOK Chewie to the dog park—still the small dog side although Chewie looked with open longing at the other side—and he socialized and peed everywhere (only one of his favorite things in life).
It was on their way to Costco that Blue saw something that made him shout. “Oh my God, John! Look!”
He pointed out the window.
“A dollar forty-nine! Chicken nuggets at Burger King are only $1.49. For ten of them! If only I had known!”
At Costco, they picked up an apparently preordered cake, an enormous thing that would take an army to eat, and Blue began to wonder how many people were showing up at “their place.”
(Happy giddy feelings at those two words! Their place.)
And then that niggling little fear hit. Was it “their” place? Now that Chewie could get up and about, would Blue still be welcome to stay with John?
Please.
Oh please.
Turned out it wasn’t too many people for dinner, just Elaine and Mara and H.D. and the handsome Bean—the owner of The Shepherd’s Bean, which was just around the corner from Four-Footed Friends. They brought their dogs, a Yorkie/miniature dachshund mix named Sarah Jane and a sheltie named Rammstein. Chewie was overjoyed.
It could have been quite overwhelming for poor Chewie, but he was all but exhausted by this point, and after only the slightest bit of circling and butt sniffing with his two canine guests, he settled in a corner and mostly watched—rising only when a bratwurst somehow broke into three pieces and fell from the grill to land on the deck.
And here Elaine had claimed to be a master. Imagine dropping meat from the grill so carelessly!
There was a final late guest. When the doorbell rang, John asked Blue to answer it, and he was thrilled to see Miriam at the door. Once again she’d brought two bottles of wine. He turned and saw John waiting in the doorway to the kitchen, eyes glowing, and Blue’s heart leapt with joy.
“Let’s get this party started,” she said.
Conversation over dinner was mostly casual. Hound Dog mentioned that Dean’s (aka Bean’s) mother had finally seemed to not only be used to his presence in her son’s life, but to actively seek him out. “She actually has me over for tea and ladyfingers,” H.D. said.
Dean rolled his eyes.
“I think she’s hoping she can use me to influence what Dean does. His parents were very independent—”
“Are very independent,” Dean interjected.
“—and basically let him sort of raise himself.”
“And then thought they had the right to question my decisions in life,” Dean continued. “They didn’t think a coffee shop was a suitable career for their son, for instance.”
“Of course she changed her mind about that,” H.D. said.
“What happened?” Blue asked.
“She found out that The Shepherd’s Bean won an award and is considered one of the best cafés not only in Kansas City, but the Midwest.”
“Wow!” exclaimed Blue.
“Which is why it’s the only coffee I’ll drink anymore,” Elaine said.
“That, and it’s where her girlfriend works,” said Mara, pointing at herself.
“It was actually Dean’s coffee that brought us together,” Elaine said with a big smile.
Couples, thought Blue. I’m surrounded by couples. It felt good, these gay couples, proving to him that it could happen. That it did happen. He looked at John, who was looking at him, and his heart skipped at least one beat.
Am I in a couple?
John reached out and took his hand. Brought it to his lips. Kissed it.
Blue’s heart swelled.
I think I am.
Of course, Miriam was single. But Blue couldn’t quite imagine the magical lady with anyone. She was like a force of nature. Too powerful for any man (or woman for that matter).
And while dinner conversation was casual, it wasn’t boring. Miriam made sure of that. Made sure of it with a few tales of her beatnik days. She didn’t forget her beloved James Broughton either. “One of his highest moments came when he made The Pleasure Garden. That film won him a special award at the Cannes Film Festival in 1954, which was presented to him by none other than Jean Cocteau—a hero of James’s. Oh, I must have heard that story a hundred times!” She began to laugh and Blue could feel the room filled with even more joy. Big Joy.
While they were eating a fraction of the gigantic chocolate sheet cake—the icing was amazing, neither too thick nor too sweet—one more surprise was revealed.
John presented Blue with the most oddly wrapped gift he’d ever seen. It was flat on one side and weirdly lumped on the other. What could possibly be under that paper…? And then it hit him.
It couldn’t be.
Could it?
But all he had to do was lift it to know.
Blue tore open the gift and found out that it was indeed what he’d suddenly suspected.
“A skateboard!”
He looked up at John, stunned.
“H.D. helped me pick it out,” John said.
Hound Dog nodded happily. “He knew you liked purple. I convinced him on the silver streaks.”
“It’s like my birthday or something,” Blue cried.
“That’s just what it is,” John said, leaning in close. “Your birthday. Time to leave your old life behind and take on the new. Will you make it official?”
“Official?”
“I spoke with a lawyer Friday—”
A lawyer?
“—and I’ve started divorce proceedings. I think it’s only proper since I want you to officially make this your home and, I hope, make me your man.”
Blue’s mouth fell open. And then a joy so great it could not hope to be contained swept up through him and out into the universe! “You mean it,” Blue cried. Literally, for tears were welling up in his eyes. For one reason or another, he cried a lot with John. Happy and sad tears—and cleansing ones.
John leaned farther forward and cupped Blue’s cheek in his big hand in that way he did (which always made Blue feel safe). “Of course I mean it. If you’ll have me….”
And the look on John’s face was so impossible, Blue had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from bursting into laughter. Because how awful would that have been when John was looking at him in…. Was it fear? Could John possibly think Blue would say anything but yes? It was hilarious to think that Blue would make any other choice.
Then something else totally impossible occurred to him.
He had a choice.
He really did.
He could stay here with this man. Or he could leave. He could go live in that house with the sagging floor. He could do anything he wanted.
But all Blue wanted was to stay here with John.
THEIR COMPANY lingered long enough after dinner to have Miriam’s bottles of wine between them all, plus at least one more, and then they made their good-byes and departed.
Perfect.
Blue let Chewie out to use the bathroom, and it was so nice to see him doing it without waddling. He seemed awfully proud of the fact himself.
Then they locked up and went upstairs and made love.
And Blue drifted off to sleep with promises of waffles in the morning.
Waffles.
He sighed contentedly.
Imagine.
Someone was making him waffles….