My Other Half

Chapter 1“Keep your eyes closed, Titus.” February 14th was never warm in the northeast United States, but there I was in nothing but a pair of tight red underpants and snow boots as Blake dragged me out of bed, through my kitchen, and out my back door forty-five days into the year 2000. “You blindfolded me.” The wind chimes hanging from my back deck’s awning clanged in my ears as I walked right into them. “Why do my eyes have to be closed?” I swatted at clinking metal. “Because I don’t want you peeking.” “Did it snow?” A bit of cold, wet fluff against my bare hip as I was pulled down eight slick wooden steps indicated it had. “It did, Greenie, but now the sun is out.” “I feel it. And I almost slipped. Could you slow down?” Blake giggled. “Sorry. I’m excited.” As if she had to say it. “Everything is sparkly and beautiful against the sky, like when you wear a white shirt, and your eyes look even bluer.” “Don’t let me fall.” “I could carry you.” At six feet tall, with flaming red hair and an athletic body I envied, Blake looked like a superhero. Still, “I doubt it,” I told her. “I’m compact but heavy. Too many Christmas cookies.” She squeezed my hand. “We’re almost there.” Safely off the deck, at least, we were still walking on not quite flat land. “We haven’t left the property, I hope.” I brought both of our hands to my lips, to kiss hers and warm mine. “Since I have no clothes on.” “We’ll give the neighbors a thrill.” “If pale and twenty pounds overweight does anything for them.” “Don’t forget hairy, my handsome golden baby otter. Doesn’t that keep you warm?” “It does not.” “Well, you take a long time to dress. I couldn’t wai—” “s**t!” I tripped on a tree root. My poplar. The feel of his bark gave him away. “Tree.” Blake offered a warning better late than never and tightened her grip. “Thanks.” To me, trees were people, too, so my apology to it, “Sorry,” was less sarcastic than my expression of gratitude toward Blake. The poplar had been there first, on the property that is, and in the middle of the yard that morning. To my best estimation, we were both around thirty, though I had only lived with him four years. I knew my poplar was a male by the flowers he’d be sprouting in just a couple of weeks. All the current males in my life had branches, leaves, and bark instead of arms, hair, and flesh. “How do you know how long I take to get dressed?” I asked Blake. “I remember waiting for you outside the locker room in high school.” Like the sun with a wind chill of minus two, the warmth of Blake’s skin and fluffy fleece jacket when she pulled me closer did little for the outside temperature, but it did warm my heart. “Of course, it could have been the distraction of all the other naked guys that kept you in there longer than necessary,” she decided. “Possibly,” I said. “So, why couldn’t you just bring my Valentine’s Day gift in the house?” “Too big.” “Oh.” That got my mind racing. Blake’s generosity and heart were as big as she was. Had she bought me a new car? My ten-year-old 1990 Escort was on its last legs. “A motorcycle would be nice. I wouldn’t turn down a boat. Am I finally getting a pony?” Blake laughed. “Not today, Greenie.” Blake called me Greenie because of my gardening expertise. My green thumb was my most impressive body part to those who got to know me well. Most of the men I’d dated, not falling into that category, were only interested in another appendage, one they got to see in the shower back in the day when I used to cruise the gym. Frigid February New Jersey air likely wasn’t doing much to show that one off at its best. In any case, starting in another six weeks or so, lasting from early spring until the first frost, the entire perimeter of my half an acre lot would be a beautiful and fragrant kaleidoscope of color. My yard was my sanctuary. “Oh well.” I added a dramatic sigh, “I suppose what I really want is a cowboy,” and then a gentle nudge. Blake chuckled. “Maybe next year.” “Give me a hint.” Our cautious pace—my cautious pace—made the trip from the house to wherever take forever. “Does it grow on trees? Is it a tree! You got me a tree!” “As much as you love all things green, no. It’s not a tree. What did you get me?” “I think you know.” “Another hybrid rose?” “Yup. The first bloom off your annual anniversary rose.” “Pretty soon we’ll have as many flowers in our yard as you.” “I’ll take you into the bathroom after.” I had dreams of having a giant greenhouse someday. At the moment, my bathroom had the best light and humidity to grow, so on occasion, I propagated there. “Maybe later, when Cayde can come over.” Blake and Cayde had been together for fifteen years, married for eight, the nuptials taking place in my back yard among the roses in mid-June. The fact Blake had put so much effort into a gift for me, her bestie, on a day meant for lovers made it all the more special. “I can stop with the roses,” I said. “If you want.” “No.” Her hip check would have knocked me across the yard were it not for my death grip on her hand. “We love them. We love you, and I can’t wait to start shopping for your wedding anniversary gifts someday, and for you to start creating roses for you and your special someone.” “I’ve been working on a funeral rose. Chances are I’ll reach that milestone first.” Blake’s elbow to my rib took me by surprise. “Ow.” “Don’t be morbid. You just need to broaden your dating scope to include men outside this tiny little town if you want more than D in your A. New Jersey’s big, and New York City is a train ride away, Titus. A bunch of other states are closer than you think.” “If I’m an expert on flora, you are a professor of highways, byways, and road travel.” “And don’t you forget it. Come along with me again on my next job.” Blake was a long haul trucker. I’d traveled with her across many miles the same number of times we’d traversed my snow dusted front yard with me blindfolded and nearly naked—once. “You wouldn’t believe the action you could get at any given road stop between rural Jersey and anywhere else in the United States,” she said. “I would believe it.” “How many hot truckers did you hook up with last time?” “Too many to count.” The real answer was one. “It was fun, wasn’t it?” Blake asked. Not really, but I said, “Definitely.” “We’re here.” No longer on grass, the more gritty and solid surface I felt beneath my boots had me a bit worried about exposing myself so close to the street. “I definitely should have put on pants and a hoodie.” “No one is out here.” A driver blew his car horn as he sped by. “Except her.” “I misgendered in my mind.” My n*****s stiffened from the breeze created by her speed. “Were we in her way, or was she reacting to the spectacle you’ve created?” “Not sure. Ta-dah!” Blake gave the scarf around my eyes a yank. “Happy Valentine’s Day!” she said. “Open your eyes.” It took them a while to adjust to bright sunlight reflected by snow, and even then, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “Is that…?” The item Blake had hauled was indeed very large. Too big for the back of her ginormous pickup, she’d borrowed a flatbed tow truck from one of her trucker buds, and still my presumed Valentine’s Day gift took up almost the whole thing. “It’s…” A little Valentine’s red piece of fabric, a warning flag, waved hello to me. “How did you…?” “Use your words, Titus.” “I can’t find them. This is incredible.” I suddenly forgot how cold it was, how cold I was, even as I put my finger to what felt like a huge, solid black icicle. There were several straight lines, eight of them, at least six feet in length with cross connectors just as long but horizontal forged in a matte black finish. Another single thick bar near the top curved to form a symbol apropos of the holiday. Half of it, at least, on half a massive wrought iron gate I’d seen just twice before. “I assume it’s the original?” “Of course it is. From ‘way down south.’” That’s how we referred to the spot where we’d first come upon the lush, sprawling, gated estate surrounded by a waist-high, black iron fence that seemed to go on for miles. Its huge front gate, three times the height of the fence to my eye, was somehow both menacing and welcoming, the menacing part its size, the welcoming part a giant heart taller than I that formed when both sides of said gate came together and kissed. Headed for Florida on a senior class trip in 1988, we’d stopped along the way at a diner, a busload of us. While most of our classmates headed inside, Blake and I took off in another direction, and a long walk brought us to the southern homestead owned by someone obviously wealthy and, to me, obviously in love. “I’ve passed it a bunch of times over the years,” Blake reminded me. I couldn’t stop touching the gate—half a gate. Walking the length of the tow truck’s bed, I ran my hand up the ironwork, smooth in some spots, a bit bumpy in others from rust and other weather wear that didn’t really show. “How old do you think it is?” “Who knows?” Blake said. “Fifty years? A hundred? If I’m anywhere near, I make a point to go visit, because of how taken you were with the whole place.” She sidled up to my side and pulled me into an embrace. “This time, opportunity arose, and I couldn’t resist bringing it home for you.” “So, it was for sale?” “Umm…Not exactly.” I finally moved my hand from the iron and spun free of Blake’s hold. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.” “I didn’t steal it.” Her dark, guilty eyes looked away, and her words came with a puff of white and at a higher pitch. “I don’t think I stole it.” “Blake!” “It was just lying there on the ground.” Now, she got animated. “There were weeds growing through the grillwork, and briars twisted up all around. It looked like it had been there a while, like no one cared. You’ll care for it.” I touched the gate again, the part that formed half a heart. I couldn’t help myself. “Worst case scenario, some hot cop shows up to haul you in for grand larceny.” “Happy Valentine’s Day to me!” Though I tried to make light, I still worried. “We should get it off the truck and hide it.” “Now you’re talking.” I tugged. “Damn.” The f*****g thing was heavy! “How did you even move it? How’d you put it on this truck…in your rig?” “Help is always just a call away. I have a lot of friends everywhere.” “You’re lucky like that. Deservedly so. You’re a pretty awesome human being.” “So are you.” The accompanying hug was nice, but it left me wondering why I didn’t have more people in my life I could call to move half of a two-ton gate. “Are you, um, gonna call some of them over to help us move it a second time?” “Later. Let’s get you inside and warmed up.” Blake turned me back toward the house. “I have to go back down that way in two weeks. You’ll come. We’ll grab the other half.” “Sounds like a plan.” We moved briskly this time. “It was still attached,” Blake said. “We might need a blowtorch.”