Date: Sun, 7 Oct 2007 09:39:09 -0700
From: qwb224@gmail.com
Subject: '52 Panhead ch 5

'52 Panhead
Chapter 5


     We each had a big slice of Callie's apple pie with
vanilla ice cream when we got home. As Evan dished it out, I
went to my office and came back with the file folder of the
Pan's drawings. He pulled his chair around next to mine and
lifted the top sheet, my first rough sketches, for a closer
look. These drawings looked the most like Evan; they'd been
done while he was still fresh in my mind. I'd started out
doodling one evening and ended up doing several small
studies, mostly of him looking over his shoulder as he had
when he'd left the garage the second time.
    I ate my pie slowly, watching him shuffle through the
drawings. He looked at each sheet carefully, pausing now and
then to study a particular detail. I'd done them in pencil
on plain old copy paper, and I'm no Rembrandt, but he seemed
entranced with them, paging slowly through the top five
sheets until he reached the final one that I'd given the guy
who painted the Pan's tank. He studied it for a bit before
flipping back to the first page. He swallowed his last bite
of pie, and then turned to me, holding my original sketch
sheet in one hand.
     "Can I have this?" he asked, an odd expression on his
face, and I almost asked him about it, but I just nodded. He
carefully rolled it up, securing it with a rubber band from
my kitchen junk drawer.
     While I cleaned up, he went back to the bedroom to pack
up his stuff. I followed him after a few minutes and stood
watching him from the doorway. He was turned mostly away
from me, sorting out an armful of clothes that we'd been
tossing onto the chair all weekend. When he came to one of
my shirts, he rubbed the fabric between his thumb and
fingers for a moment, then brought it up and buried his face
in it, breathing deeply. After a moment, he laid it across
the back of the chair, smoothing it gently with his hand
before jamming the rest of his stuff into his pack.
     He was looking down as he turned around and didn't see
me until he was right on top of me. He stopped and glanced
away, a little embarrassed, but I put a finger on his chin
and turned him back to me, smiling my understanding. "You
can take it if you leave one for me."
     He looked back at the shirt, tempted for a moment, then
rolled his eyes and shook his head with a sheepish grin. "I
think I can make it. Call me?"
     "Every night," I assured him.
     He sobered up at that and dropped his pack to hug me
hard, pressing his face to mine. His breath was warm against
my throat as he slid his hands to my butt to pull me tight
against his crotch for a moment. I held the back of his neck
with one hand, and ran the other slowly up and down the long
muscles of his back, trying to imprint the feel of him into
my hand, knowing I was going to miss him like crazy the next
two weeks. Finally, he blew out a breath and stepped back
from me.
    "Gotta go. Thanks for a really good weekend, the best
in a long time."
     He kissed me briefly, grabbed his pack, and headed out
the door. When we got to the garage, he walked slowly around
the Pan, tipping his head now and then to get a good look at
the tank while I watched him anxiously.
     Back when I'd had the paint job done, it had seemed
like a great idea, a sort of homage to our one night of lust
in this very garage. But now that he was actually looking at
it, I was beginning to wonder if it came off like some kind
of weirdo stalker thing.
      Evan squatted down for a closer look, tracing his
finger slowly along the jaw line of his painted image.
Finally, he stood and met my eyes, his face expressionless,
and as he walked to me, my fingertips tingled in
anticipation. I wasn't sure if he was gonna pop me one in
the nose or what, but as he got closer, I could see that his
eyes were dark with emotion. He walked right up to me until
our foreheads met gently. He closed his eyes, nuzzling his
face into mine, and his voice was ragged as he struggled
through the words.
     "I don't know. what the fuck's goin' on here, but."
     He didn't finish the thought, just stood there as I
wrapped my arms around him and pulled him to me. We hugged
for several minutes, long enough for me to develop yet
another Evan-induced hard-on. God, he was like walking
Viagra to me. He chuckled as he bumped his crotch into mine.
     "That for me?"
     I snickered in return, and we stepped apart, the moment
gone.
    He was silent as he quickly got his bike ready to go,
and too soon, I was watching his tail lights recede into the
darkness. I stayed at the shop for a while, puttering with
stuff, then sitting on the workbench where it all began,
remembering that first hot kiss. I replayed that night in my
mind - the shock and pleasure of seeing him again, the
incredibly strong physical attraction, the persistent and
slightly spooky sensation that something more was at work.
     I really wasn't looking forward to going home to an
empty house, but I had to work tomorrow, too, so I finally
did, sitting out on the deck in the dark, bundled up in a
warm coat with the dog curled next to me, my cell in my lap.
I was dozing when it rang.
     "Hey." His voice was soft and low, and I closed my
eyes, pretending that it was his warmth pressed to my leg
instead of Chewy's. "I'm home okay."
     "Good. Sleep tight."
     Surprisingly, I slept pretty well, waking only once to
pull his pillow to my chest, comforted by the lingering
smell of him. I worked steadily, but Monday crept by. I went
out at lunch and bought a huge water heater, arranging for
it to be installed later in the week, thinking of all the
things I could do to Evan in the shower, knowing the hot
wouldn't run out. Tuesday and Wednesday were uneventful, the
highlights being my nightly calls to Evan. We didn't talk
much about us, just chatted about our day; he usually had a
little story of something that had happened at work.
     Thursday he wasn't home till late, and I paced the
living room until I reached him. I hated the knots of
insecurity that churned around in my gut while I waited for
him to get home, and I wondered if my decision to give this
a shot was a wise one, but then I'd remember how good it had
felt being with him and figured he was worth a little angst.
I tried to keep the relief out of my voice when he finally
answered, but he quickly volunteered that he'd been kept at
the office by an unexpected meeting and late dinner with a
big client.
     As we were saying goodbye, he started a sentence. "I."
and my heart did a quick thump-thump. "I miss you. A lot." I
closed my eyes, disappointed and relieved at the same time.
     "I miss you, too."
     We said goodnight, and I lay awake for a while, staring
at the ceiling and thinking about us. Our weekend together
had been better than any other three days of my life. Even
the best parts of my previous relationship had been colored
with the knowledge that I wanted it more than he did. With
Evan, it seemed much more a mutual feeling, something we
both wanted to happen. I hoped like hell that the next time
I saw him, the feeling was still there; but two weeks seemed
like a long time, and I was paranoid that he'd change his
mind by then. I sighed deeply and rolled over, trying to get
comfortable enough to fall asleep, but thinking about being
with Evan had given me a hard-on I couldn't ignore, so I
grabbed the lube and pushed myself partway up to lean
against the head board.
      I stroked myself slowly at first, holding my cock
loosely between my thumb and two middle fingers. As I
stroked up, I let my index finger slide across the tip,
circling my slit, then gliding down the sensitive underside.
My left hand tugged at my balls, rolling and squeezing them
gently, mimicking the way Evan had handled me. I kept it
slow, working up to a mediocre orgasm that came in long,
trembling spasms that exhausted me. I wiped up halfheartedly
and passed out. Even jerking off wasn't much fun without
Evan around.
     The weekend went by slowly, as I knew it would.
Saturday morning I put in a couple hours at the gym, trying
to work off the persistent ache in my chest, but although I
worked myself into a lather, it didn't help much. After a
shower and some lunch, I took a long ride on the Panhead,
tempted to zoom down the freeway to Patterson, but headed
west instead. The bar I stopped at probably had a few decent
looking guys in it, but I could barely muster up the
enthusiasm to order a beer, much less cruise the joint.
    As I munched some peanuts, I wondered at my mood. I'd
just met the guy of my dreams - I should be happy. Instead I
was lethargic and depressed. I knew part of it was that I
had another six days to go before I could get my hands on
Evan; but part of it was the increasingly uncomfortable
thought that maybe I wasn't very likely boyfriend material.
I'd been fucking around for a long time. That footloose
lifestyle can change the way you think about things, making
it difficult to apply the single-minded dedication that a
solid relationship requires. And then there was that
monogamy thing. I wondered if I'd be able to settle down
with just one guy, even if that guy was Evan. It was a
sobering thought, and I considered it glumly as I stared at
the bowl of nuts in front of me.
     And what about Evan? Ten years was a long time. Ten
years without a meaningful relationship might have damaged
him, as well. I sighed. God, weren't we a pair? If something
worked out between us, it'd be a fuckin' miracle.
     I finished my beer and was standing up to go when a guy
sat down on the stool to my right.
     "Buy you another?" he asked.
     "No thanks." I said without making eye contact as I
shrugged into my jacket and reached for my keys.
     "You sure?" His voice was friendly and just suggestive
enough that I finally took a look at him. His jeans were
tight, and his nipples raised two hard little nubs under his
snug white t-shirt. About my height, slender, pretty; and
barely old enough to be in the bar. He looked up at me then
and gave me a shy smile, his brown eyes full of promise as
he chewed on one side of his lower lip.
     Jeee-zuz.
     Not long ago I'd've sat my ass right back down on that
barstool, drunk the boy's beer, and hustled him off to the
nearest bathroom before he had time to change his mind. Now
it just made me think about Evan.
     Fuck, I was gettin' old.
     I sat down next to him, but waved off the beer he
signaled for. "Listen, kid." The boy's face tightened at
'kid' and he looked away. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm
not very good company right now."
He looked at me then, a sweet smile curving his mouth
as he rested his hand on high on my leg, his little finger
brushing my nuts. "Bet I could make you feel a whole lot
better."
     My dick was interested, but my mind was full of Evan as
I said, "No doubt, but." But what? I've got a boyfriend? Not
hardly, after only two days. "But I'm seeing someone."
     The boy looked pointedly past me at the empty barstool
on my left, and then raised an eloquent eyebrow. "But he's
not here, is he?" He shrugged. "No harm, no foul."
     I smiled at him as I shook my head and
stood."God,you're young."
     His face shut down then, going from flirt to hustler in
a split second. Gone was the pretty boy who'd tried to pick
me up, and his voice was cold and rough when he said, "Wake
up, asshole. He's probably out doin' somebody right now."
     I tipped his beer into his packed crotch, and left the
bar.
     By then it was late afternoon and the ride home was
chilly, but I felt great. I'd walked away from a sure thing
back there, pretty much a first for me; maybe I'd make a
decent boyfriend after all. I gunned the Pan out of a turn,
grinning inside my helmet.
     Evan called around seven to say that he wouldn't be
home later and didn't want to miss my call. I bit my tongue
to keep from asking him where he'd be, but he picked up
something in my voice. "I've got a... family thing to go to.
That's why I couldn't come up this weekend."
     "No problem," I said, but I couldn't help wondering if
he was missing me like I was him. No wonder long distance
relationships are such a bad idea - your mind has too much
time alone to fuck you up.
     Sunday morning I installed a new video card in my game
computer, then fired up Call of Duty 2 and stalked Nazis
through the streets of Stalingrad while I ran a couple loads
of laundry. Nothin' like blowing shit up to take your mind
off your troubles.
     In the afternoon, I mowed the lawn, trimmed the back
hedge, and weeded the flower beds. Callie was a veteran
gardener, and the first summer I'd lived here, after seeing
how lame my front yard looked next to hers, I'd put in a big
raised planter on either side of the front porch. We'd made
a trip to the garden center, coming home with flats and six
packs of perennials that Callie promised didn't require much
care. I'd managed to kill a bunch of them before finding
three or four that thrived under my black thumb, and now, in
late spring several years later, it looked pretty damn good.
     After I mowed Callie's yard, I showered and then joined
her for dinner on her back porch, watching the fireflies
winking in the gloom of dusk as we ate home fried chicken
and her wonderful German potato salad.
     When she came back from the kitchen with more iced tea,
she asked, "Who's that good looking boy who visited last
weekend?"
     "Evan," I mumbled around a mouthful of chicken.
     "Evan. That's a lovely name. How's he doing?"
     "I have no idea," I replied sourly, wishing she'd just
drink her tea and leave it alone. After spending most of
today wondering what Evan had been up to last night, I was
back to being pessimistic about our chances, and beginning
to wonder if maybe I was bipolar or something. Or maybe in
love. Same difference, I think.
     "You like him, don't you? More than any of the others."
     Her voice was soft, and when I glanced up, she was
gazing out across the dark, freshly-mown lawn, her hands
resting in her lap, her expression pensive and a little sad.
She'd never told me much about her past, but I knew she'd
lost a fianc‚ in the early `60s and had never married. My
irritation evaporated as I answered her honestly.
     "Yeah, a lot more than the others." As I said the words
aloud, I realized how true they were. "More than anyone."
     She turned to me then, smiling. "Good. You've been
lonely the past few months, staying down at that garage till
all hours." I raised an eyebrow at her and she shrugged. "My
arthritis keeps me up some nights. I see your lights on
late." She paused for a moment before asking, "Does he like
you?"
     Did Evan like me?
  I had to believe he did. We were good together in so
many ways, so many of the little ways that can seem small at
first, but that can wedge a relationship apart if they
aren't right. Our comfortable silences, our kitchen
domesticity, our easy intimacy in bed were all very good. I
stared unseeingly at my plate as I recalled the feel of his
hands on me, his deep, intense kisses, the utter contentment
of lying quietly in his arms. I met Callie's eyes with a
smile.
     "Yeah, he likes me."

     *  *  *

     Callie was big on old sayings, and I could just about
hear her now. "There's no free lunch, Jeffery," she'd say.
"Nothing good ever comes easy."
     That's what she'd have told me if she'd been there when
Evan called at 4:30pm on Thursday to tell me he couldn't
make it for the weekend. My stony silence told him how I
felt about that bit of news. Neither of us spoke until he
said softly, "I wanna come..... I miss you..... but I've got
a last minute flight to Chicago early Sunday morning and I
need to get to the dry cleaner's, do some laundry, all sorts
of shit. I'm sorry." I didn't say a word. "Jeff. please say
something."
`Once burned - twice shy,' another Callie favorite,
described me perfectly. I'd already been anxious about
getting close to somebody again, and when I finally met
someone I halfway trusted, this is what happened.
"Fine, fuck it," I told him and closed my cell. I
yanked the fridge open, ripped the top off a beer with shaky
hands, and chugged a few big gulps.
     "Fuck!"
     Chewy whined quietly under the table as I dragged out a
chair and slumped into it, angry and disappointed - and
hurt. Squeezing my eyes shut, I slowly dropped my head back
to rest against the chair, tightening my belly against the
pain. God, it hurt. You don't really remember how bad
rejection was until it happened again.
     After a few minutes, Chew bumped his nose into my knee,
and I slid my fingers through the fur of his neck, grateful
for his small comfort. Five minutes passed while I finished
the beer and started another. It was a little early to be
poundin' down the brewskies, but fuck that, too.
Fuck everything, especially a dark-haired, gray-eyed
thief of hearts named Evan.
     When my cell rang again, I picked it up without looking
at the display, hoping it was a telemarketer I could rip to
shreds.
     "Yeah?" I snarled.
     "Jeff, don't hang up." Evan spoke quickly. "I just
emailed you directions to my place. I'll leave work early
tomorrow and be home around two. If you come then, we'll
have a day and a half. I know it's not a whole weekend, and
I'll have to do some errands, but..."
     I let the offer hang there while I gauged the sincerity
in his voice. I really wanted to believe him. When he
whispered, "Jeff, please," I could almost feel his breath on
my cheek and that did it; I closed my eyes and gave in.
     "Two o'clock?"
     "Yeah."
     "All right," I agreed grudgingly.
     "Okay," Evan sighed, relief evident in his tone. "Okay,
good. Call me back if the directions didn't come through,
all right? See you then."
     "Yeah," I replied, then flipped the phone shut and put
it down, staring at it until Chewy snuck out from under the
table to go nudge at the back door. I had to get out of the
house, so I clipped on his leash and headed down the block,
walking off my mad, trying to let the hurt go.
     I'd agreed to go to Patterson, but I wasn't at all sure
I'd actually do it. Evan's canceling of our plans had put a
pretty big ding in the thin layer of confidence I'd managed
to coat our budding relationship with. It was a wake-up call
of the rudest kind, one I maybe shouldn't ignore. After an
hour of pounding the pavement, I was still hurting but no
longer angry, and I still hadn't decided what to do.
     I checked the puter when we got back to the house,
finding a porno clip from a bar buddy, an ad for Viagra, and
Evan's email. I watched the clip - two hot muscleheads doin'
the nasty on a weight bench - deleted the ad, and, with a
deep breath, finally opened the one from Evan.

     Jeff - I should have asked you to come here
     right away instead of just canceling on
     you. It seemed like a long drive for a
     short visit, but then I remember that I
     drove it for just an hour with you - the
     hour that started all this. I'm really
     sorry. See you tomorrow at 2 - don't
     fuckin' be late! Evan xoxo

     I was smiling by the time I finished reading it;
smiling, but still undecided. I fixed dinner for Chewy and
me - scrambled eggs, sausage and toast, and ate leaning
against the kitchen counter. Chew knew the drill and sat in
front of me, an expectant look on his furry face. Every
third bite or so, I'd lob the contents of the fork into the
air and he'd make a mad leap for the hunk of eggs or bite of
sausage, snapping it neatly out of the air. After I cleaned
up, it was only seven, so I tried to read for a while, but
my mind kept circling around and around. Go? Don't go? Like
some fucked up Monopoly game. By ten I gave up and went to
bed where I dreamed of Evan.
We were in the woods where I'd found him, but it was
dark and strange. I was following him, but he got too far
ahead and when I came to a fork in the trail, I wasn't sure
which way to go. As I stood there looking to the right,
straining to see him in the dim light, Evan appeared
suddenly on my left, calling my name softly. When I turned,
he held out a hand, but as I reached for it, the dream faded
and I woke up. It was 2am, the dead of night, and the house
was quiet except for Chewy snoring softly on the rug next to
the bed.
     As I lay there thinking about the dream, it brought to
mind the first stanza of a Robert Frost poem I'd memorized
when I was young and confused about things. Its theme of
making a difficult choice, of choosing which road to take,
had resonated with me then.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

The poem goes on to express the mild regret that is
part and parcel of a difficult decision - what would your
life have been like if you'd chosen the other road?
Was there some message in the dream that I was too
dense to understand? I lay there for an hour tumbling it
around in my mind, but no flashes of brilliant insight came
along to explain things.
     I did finally fall back asleep knowing that I'd drive
to Patterson tomorrow.
     I needed to see Evan.

***

Many thanks to David of Hope for editing chores.

Thanks for reading. If you're enjoying Jeff and Evan, I'd
sure like to hear from you.
qwb224@gmail.com