Baggage

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

WHERE WAS Gram? Chandler wasn’t sure why she wasn’t with Mom and him. They always traveled together in the van. Chandler had purchased the handicap-accessible vehicle with a wheelchair lift after Mom’s stroke. Today it was just Mom and him, she in the backseat in her chair while he drove.

He sort of recognized the road but couldn’t quite name it—a paved two-lane highway out in the country. The sun shone brightly, and Chandler noticed a gentle breeze ripple through the tree leaves as he continued down the straight stretch.

In the distance, he noticed a vehicle parked alongside the road. He began to slow the van and prepare to stop. Could be someone with engine trouble or a flat tire. He glanced back at Mom before returning his attention to the road. As they approached the vehicle, it appeared empty. He noticed no signs of a driver or passengers, but the car looked brand new.

It couldn’t be new, though. He recognized the make and model. 1973 Cadillac convertible. “Mom, that’s your old car!”

Chandler would never forget that old Cadillac. But the one his mother had owned, right after his parents’ divorce, had been in a sad state of disrepair. Chandler was thirteen at the time. The car’s interior remained fairly decent, but rust had corroded much of the body. And the engine roared while driving down the street, with an exhaust system in need of a complete overhaul—starting with a new muffler. That muffler rumbled so loudly—no, not rumbled—boomed. It announced the car’s approach three or four blocks in advance. Walls would shake. Buildings would tremble. Mothers would snatch their children from the sidewalks.

Mortified, Chandler would slink down in the back and lie flat across the seat, so that nobody saw him.

“You shouldn’t be that way, Chandler,” his mother would scold. “I love my car! I thank God for my car, and I’m not ashamed of it. Things could be worse. We could be walking, you know.”

This Cadillac, this fully restored model, was the antithesis of the old beater his mom used to own. The sun reflected off the shiny, waxed surface of the trunk. But wait. That couldn’t be. He remembered the plate from his mom’s old car, and it was the same!

Astonished, Chandler turned in his seat to his mom, and to his further amazement, she reached down and unfastened her seatbelt then pushed herself up from the chair. How? Mom couldn’t walk. Not by herself.

After three years of grueling therapy, she’d gotten to a point where she could stand with assistance, and by using a one-handed walker or three-legged cane, she could take steps. She could walk very short distances.

But as Chandler sat there, staring with his mouth agape, she leaned over and slid open the side door of the van, then bounded down the steps. Shocked and sputtering, Chandler stared in awe as his mom briskly stepped around the van and headed straight toward the driver’s side of the Cadillac.

He fumbled for his seatbelt and pushed open his door, then tumbled out. Quickly he managed to collect himself and gather his bearings, loping behind his mom toward the car. He raced around the other side to the passenger door and climbed in just as she slid behind the steering wheel.

“Mom! You can walk.”

Without a word, she fired up the ignition, and unlike the old beater he remembered, she purred like a kitten. Seconds later, they pulled onto the road and began driving.

“You can walk! You can drive! Mom... you’re healed!”

A tingly sensation swept over Chandler, traveling down his spine and causing the hairs on his arms and legs to stand on end. He’d witnessed a miracle, and everything was okay. It was going to be all right now. Everything was going to be all right.

Beaming ear to ear, he looked straight ahead through the windshield. That’s when he saw it.

The light.

Twinkling like a star in the distance, it glistened. Odd, he’d never seen such a thing in broad daylight. But it appeared to be a different kind of light. Golden and iridescent. As they continued down the thoroughfare, the light grew larger. Brighter. It seemed as if it was descending from the sky and headed straight toward them. It was!

And then it became clearer. Not really a light at all, but a beautiful golden butterfly. As it fluttered its brilliant wings, they shimmered, casting a bright, radiating pulse outward all around.

Closer.

Closer.

The light, airy feeling of contentment and peace that had washed over Chandler moments before was suddenly replaced by something much more gripping. Terrifying? Fear engulfed him as the light intensified.

His mom’s touch jolted his attention away from the light. He snapped his head in her direction.

“Chandler, it’s okay.” Her voice, but a whisper, soothed him, caressed his very soul, and the fear instantly dissipated. “Everything’s going to be all right. You’re going to be all right.”

He turned just in time to see the magnificent light surround them, swallowing them up in all its brilliance. Its warmth traveled the length of his body as its intensity blinded him, engulfing him in a magnificent sea of white.

Another jolt and the world returned. He stood alone in the middle of the highway. The car gone. His mother vanished.

He awakened

Gasping for breath, he reached over to the bedside stand, fumbling for his water glass. Four times he’d experienced the same dream, identical down to the tiniest detail with each recurrence.

Why didn’t he realize while he was dreaming that none of it was real? Why couldn’t he remember it as a dream he’d already had? And why the f**k did it seem so vibrantly real?

He glanced at his clock. Would he ever be able to sleep in? Four thirty-six, almost the same time he’d awakened the previous morning. He pushed himself upright and dragged his legs over the side of the mattress. After sliding his feet into his comfy slippers, he padded his way to the kitchen and started his coffee, then headed to the front porch for his nicotine.

As Chandler settled into his chair and took his first heavenly swig of hot, creamy coffee, he looked straight across the street to Marcus’ trailer. The light in the front window, presumably the kitchen, indicated someone probably was already up. Perhaps Marcus himself, getting ready for work. Hopefully he’d have better luck with his brother’s car today.

Having lived in his trailer for a number of years, Chandler recalled noticing the man who lived across the street. Of course, he didn’t know him as Marcus’ brother because before yesterday, he’d never seen Marcus. The brothers possessed strikingly different features. They hardly looked related, at least from a distance. The unnamed brother was white, for one thing, and older, probably in his early thirties. Perhaps they were half-siblings. Or maybe one was adopted.

Whatever the case may be, Marcus certainly hadn’t gotten shortchanged in the looks department. Chandler hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the young man since he’d dropped him off at work the day before. He realized his fascination with Marcus was an absurd case of misplaced attraction, but he could barely control himself. Marcus had to be around twenty-five. He’d said he graduated high school seven years ago and had just completed a four-year vocational program. Maybe he didn’t start his vocational college program until a few years after he finished high school. That made sense, since he’d also said he’d been focused on taking care of his mother until she’d died of cancer.

Chandler took a drag from his cigarette and pshawed himself as he exhaled. He had to stop obsessing. He’d given an attractive kid a ride, and he needed to leave it at that. Even if there were no age difference, there were a million other differences. For one, Marcus undoubtedly was straight. And he probably had at least one girlfriend. And even if he were gay, he’d certainly find nothing appealing about a guy like Chandler.

Chandler crushed out his smoke at the exact moment the trailer door opened and Marcus emerged on his porch. He glanced across the street toward Chandler and raised his hand, then smiled.

Chandler’s heart took off like a locomotive. He dropped the cigarette butt in the ashtray and raised his hand to wave back at his new friend. As Marcus descended the porch steps, he smiled broadly, nodding his head in Chandler’s direction. He didn’t turn toward the car parked a few feet away, however, but briskly moved in the opposite direction, down the street away from his trailer.

Somewhat surprised, Chandler slouched in his chair, feeling a bit deflated. He’d hoped.... Well, he didn’t exactly know what he’d hoped. That Marcus would walk over and talk to him? That he’d come ask for another ride?

He was being ridiculous. What would the two of them possibly have to talk about? Then it suddenly dawned on him. Marcus was leaving his house much earlier today, and he was on foot. He probably had to walk to work and thus didn’t have time for chitchat.

He sprung from his chair and moved swiftly across his porch, out into the yard. He crossed the lawn diagonally, attempting to reach Marcus before he made it to the end of the street.

“Marcus! Wait....”

Marcus stopped and turned, and a wave of self-conscious awareness swept over Chandler. Again, here he was in a baggy T-shirt and sleep pants, standing out on his lawn in the pre-dawn hours, probably looking like a pathetic moron.

“Um... do you need a ride?”

Marcus had nearly reached the end of the street and stood within feet of a pole light. Though still pre-dawn, the street lamp illuminated his masculine features. He smiled and shook his head. “Nah, man. That’s real nice of you, but... well, I’m fine with walking.”

“Oh.” Was he politely refusing the offer so as not to take advantage of Chandler, or did the kid just want to avoid him? “Are you sure? It’s no problem.”

Marcus shrugged, waving each of his arms outward in a casual manner with palms up. He seemed so cool. So swag. So opposite Chandler in every imaginable way. “I won’t get my first check for at least two weeks. I can’t expect you to....”

“It’s only a few miles,” Chandler said. “And I’m already awake. I wake up early every day. Habit, I guess. And there’s no point in you walking when I have a car, and I really don’t mind. It’s no problem....” He stopped abruptly, conscious of the fact he was rambling like an i***t.

Marcus c****d his head to the side and grinned in such an endearing way it nearly melted Chandler’s heart. “Are you sure? You’re such a nice guy, ya know. Anyone ever tell you that?”

Chandler felt the warmth rising in his neck, and he shook his head. “Well... um. Anyone would do the same....”

Marcus laughed, a low, rumbly chuckle. “Not anyone. Not my brother.”

“Well, do you wanna come wait inside while I throw on some clothes?” Chandler said, pointing toward his house. “I mean, I have time today to actually get dressed. It’s only like, what? Not even five o’clock. I can’t see you walking.” He looked down at his comfy slippers, embarrassed. “Not when you then have to work all day.”

“I used to walk farther than this to my old job,” Marcus said. “I’m used to it. Really.”

Chandler took a step back toward his porch and motioned for Marcus to follow. “And you don’t have to pay me. My car is very fuel efficient. Very economical.” As he spoke, it struck him how old and conservative he must sound to a guy like Marcus. Economical? Fuel efficient? Who talked like that?

“What do you get in that car? Like thirty-six miles per gallon?”

“Thirty-eight highway. About thirty city.”

“Wow, pretty good.” Marcus had stepped behind him, now following him across the yard. “I plan to get me a car soon. Hopefully one with good mileage like that.”

“Oh, right,” Chandler said. “You can’t go wrong with a Ford.”

They stepped onto the porch, and when Chandler pulled open the screen door, he attempted to move aside to allow Marcus entry. But Marcus reached above Chandler’s head and grasped the door, allowing Chandler to lead the way. He realized how much shorter he was than his guest. Marcus had to be at least six-two or three. Chandler stood only five-foot-six when wearing thick-soled shoes.

“Want some coffee or something?” Chandler offered. “Or juice or water....”

“Oh man, coffee’d be great.”

Marcus followed Chandler to the kitchen. Fumbling for a light switch, Chandler then opened the cupboard to retrieve a cup.

“Nice place you have here,” Marcus said. “It’s just so... spacious, I guess. Compared to my brother’s.”

“These double wides are nice. To me, it doesn’t even feel like a trailer, ya know. Do you take cream or sugar?”

“Yeah.” Marcus looked at him expectantly and then apparently realized he’d been posed an either/or question. “I mean, yeah, I use both. Or... yes, yes please. Sorry, forget my manners sometime.”

Chandler grinned in spite of himself. Honestly, Marcus had so far seemed extremely mannerly to him. More so than most of the younger generation these days. He removed the liquid creamer from the refrigerator and placed it on the counter alongside the coffee cup and sugar bowl. He opened a drawer next to him to grab a spoon. “Here you go. Help yourself while I go throw on some clothes. I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

“Two what?” Marcus was smiling again, that same beguiling expression that made him seem so... irresistible?

“Oh.” Chandler laughed nervously. “Just an expression my gram used to use. Two shakes of a lamb’s tail, ya know, in a jiffy.”

This time Marcus laughed. “All right. See you in a jiffy.”

Not exactly sure what he could say without further embarrassing himself, Chandler spun on his heel and headed out of the kitchen and down the hall toward his bedroom. Did I just say “In a jiffy”?

Normally he wouldn’t have dreamed of getting dressed without showering first. He showered every morning before work, even though he now worked from home. On those rare occasions he skipped his bathing routine, he felt grimy and dirty, certain he reeked of body odor, though there was no one around to confirm or deny his fear. No one but Raymond, that was, and he’d be the last person Chandler would trust to judge something like that.

It would be okay, though. He’d apply deodorant and spritz himself with some cologne, then when he got back from driving Marcus to work, he could shower and change again. Or he could actually just go in his pajamas again, like he’d done the day before. No, that would be way too humiliating. And stressful.

Realizing he didn’t have an unlimited amount of time, he suppressed his anxiety about picking out the right clothes and grabbed the first pair of khakis he laid his hands on. Then he removed a perfectly folded polo shirt from his bureau dresser. He dashed into his bathroom, brushed his teeth in record time, applied deodorant, and slipped into his clothes.

After combing his hair and daubing his wrists with a tiny amount of cologne, he checked the time and saw he’d only used five minutes. At 5:07, he still had nearly an hour to get Marcus to work on time.

When he emerged from the bedroom, he found his guest standing in the living room perusing the family photos. Chandler had displayed pictures of his loved ones, hanging them prominently on the wall. They provided him an inexplicable sense of comfort, perhaps as tangible reminders they remained with him in a spiritual sense. He wasn’t religious, though. Not even slightly.

Marcus turned to him. “Is this you?” He pointed at a picture to his slight left.

“Ah, yes. That’s me a few years ago with my... with Daniel and my nephew Alex.”

“Is he your husband?” The way he asked, so casually, so non-judgmentally, took Chandler aback.

“Um... no. Not technically. Back then, we couldn’t get married.”

“Oh, right.”

“But yes, we were partners. We had custody of Alex while he was in high school.”

“You look so happy. I love that picture.”

For some reason, Chandler found his heart racing again. He hadn’t even thought about the pictures when he’d invited Marcus into his home. Nor had he considered the Pride Flag that hung in the hallway, Daniel’s actually. He’d left it when he moved to North Dakota, and Chandler hadn’t the heart to take it down. It had been so long since he’d had any company that Chandler never considered de-gaying the house.

“Were you together a long time?”

“Nine years.” Chandler sighed. Well, perhaps coming out in this manner would make things easier in the long run. Good for Marcus to know up front who and what Chandler was. This way there’d be no surprise later.

“You look great together,” he said. “What happened? If ya don’t mind me asking.”

What did happen? The history became so convoluted in his mind. So much tragedy. So many losses, back to back, starting with Mom. After his mother passed, whom Daniel had helped care for, he’d lost his gram. Then his dad. He then had custody of Alex for a few years until he graduated and all but disappeared. All Chandler’s baggage had been too much for Daniel.

He really couldn’t blame it all on that. Things with Daniel had gone sour long before his dad or Alex entered the picture. Daniel’s affair with one of his own clients had rocked the foundation of their relationship years earlier, back when Gram was still alive.

“Irreconcilable differences, I guess.” Chandler offered a sheepish smile. He didn’t want to go into all those details, not with this young man.

“Too bad,” Marcus said. “For him.”

Chandler laughed nervously. What did he mean by that? “We can go whenever you’re ready.”

“I hope I have that kind of happiness someday,” Marcus said, as if he hadn’t heard Chandler’s attempt to change the subject. “And it’s so cool you had your nephew.”

Just then Chandler heard Raymond in the hallway. The sound of a door closing signaled he’d probably gone into the bathroom. “Uh, that’s just my brother. Let’s get going.”

“Sure,” Marcus said. He walked across the room, back toward the kitchen where he placed his coffee cup on the counter. “So you live with your brother?”

“Yeah.” Chandler stood in the archway of the kitchen, leaning against the frame. “I kind of look after him.”

“I see how you are.” Marcus winked as he spun around to face him. “Caregiver. You’re one of those do-gooders.”

Chandler stared at him, wanting to speak but not sure of the appropriate response.

“That’s why you were so nice to me, why you offered me a ride. You do good things for people. Don’t you?”

“Um, I try, I guess.”

“Well, be careful. Trust me, people can take advantage if you don’t watch your back.”

“You said you took care of your mom, so doesn’t that make you a do-gooder, too?”

Marcus chuckled. God what the sound of that rumbly baritone voice did to Chandler. “Takes one to know one, I guess.”