The Handyman's Dream (23 page)

Ed felt himself blushing again. “Well, I don’t know about ‘finest,’ but I do my best.”

“He is the best,” Rick said confidently. “Some of the folks he works for are on my route. They think he’s wonderful.”

“It’s kind of a long story,” Ed began. “I didn’t want to go to college after high school, because I didn’t really have a goal in mind, so I went to work for Marsden Electric. That’s a factory in town that makes electric motors for appliances and such. My dad was a plant manager there. Anyway, I just stuck with it, thinking I could work myself up to a job like my dad’s, but then the recession hit, and all the people who didn’t have seniority were laid off.

“So, I sat around home for a couple of months, getting on my mom’s nerves. Then one day a friend of hers called and asked if I could fix a lamp of hers that wasn’t working right. I’d always been good with that sort of thing, thanks to watching my dad tinker around with that stuff, so I did. Next thing I knew, I was doing odd jobs for her, then for her mother, who told a friend of hers, and pretty soon every old lady in town was calling me. I decided the heck with waiting to go back to Marsden, and went into business for myself.”

“Isn’t that interesting?” John marveled.

“You do more than fix things, though, isn’t that right?” Vera asked.

“Oh, yes. I shovel walks, as you know, help clean out attics or basements, whatever they need done. I help one woman with her grocery shopping every week. She can only get around with a walker, and she says my help keeps her out of a nursing home. I even”—he glanced at Rick with a grin—“put up Christmas trees. I do quite a bit of painting, too. Whatever. No two days are ever the same, and I really like it. It’s constant variety, and it never gets boring. The people, for the most part, are great. Especially the old ones. I really get a kick out of them.”

“I think that’s wonderful,” Vera said, smiling at him. “You’re performing quite a service for those elderly folks. There really should be more people doing that.”

“I keep telling him he should incorporate and start some kind of a chain,” Rick teased.

“Oh, I’ve got enough to keep me busy as it is. That, plus my mom calls a lot, getting all her work done for free.”

“Ed’s mom is quite a character, let me tell you,” Rick said, shaking his head.

“Rick,” his mother said, disapproving.

“Oh, no, she is,” Ed said hastily. “But she really likes Rick. Thinks he’s better than I deserve. At least that’s what she keeps telling me.”

They all laughed comfortably.

“You should meet Mrs. Penfield,” Rick said. “One of Ed’s clients is his high school English teacher. She lives in this incredible Victorian home, and had us over for tea a few weeks ago. So don’t worry so much about us, Mom. They do have civilized people in Porterfield.”

Vera shook her head, lips pursed. “I’m sorry, but I do worry. When Rick first moved there,” she said to Ed, “I worried about him being exposed to bigotry and prejudice, but I’ll admit it’s going better than I thought. My mistake, I think, was judging the town by our son-in-law.”

“Oh, Porterfield’s not so bad,” Ed said. “I think there are a lot more folks like Mrs. Penfield than Hank Romanowski.”

“That’s good to hear,” John said, raising his coffee cup. “However, before we journey down that particular unpleasant road, let’s get back to Ed’s job. Do you think you could do anything about that fluorescent light in our kitchen? I changed the bulbs, but it still isn’t working right.”

“Dad! This is Ed’s day off,” Rick protested.

“That’s okay,” Ed said, eager to show off his skills. “I’d be happy to take a look at it.”

They all trooped into the kitchen. John flipped the light switch. The ceiling light flickered, shone brightly for a moment, then flickered again before one of the bulbs went completely out.

“Hmm,” Ed said, stroking his chin. “Something’s loose up there, I’ll bet. Do you have some tools? And a stepladder? I want to see what’s going on.”

John fetched his toolbox, while Vera pulled a stepladder out of a kitchen closet. Rick watched Ed climb up the ladder.

“Be careful, okay?” Rick murmured, looking anxious.

“I’m not gonna burn your parents’ house down,” Ed said, removing the bulbs, feeling totally confident for the first time that day. “I do this sort of stuff all the time.”

Ed handed the bulbs down to Rick, then climbed down from the ladder to inspect the tools in the box John had brought up from the basement. Ed wished he had his own toolbox. John’s was a jumble of mismatched tools, and Ed prided himself on stocking an efficient toolbox.

“You know, boys,” Vera said, turning off the gas under the whistling tea kettle, “I think unless he needs some help, we should all go back to the other room. He might get a little distracted with an audience. All right, Ed?”

“Umm-hmm,” he mumbled, already engrossed in the chore.

John, Vera, and Rick left the room, Rick glancing back nervously on his way out. Ed, screwdriver in hand, climbed the ladder again. Soon enough he found the problem. It was a loose connection, as he had suspected. Someone had probably slammed the kitchen door a few too many times, he thought. He easily tightened all of them, then replaced the bulbs.

“Now, how’s that for impressing your prospective in-laws,” he whispered to himself, smiling. “Didn’t even need to flip the circuit breaker. Talk about easy.”

He turned to climb down the ladder, but somehow lost his footing. Before he knew what was happening, he somehow managed to kick the ladder out from under his feet. The stepladder skidded across the floor, and Ed went crashing down after it with a muffled yelp. Fortunately, he landed square on his ass, but it was quite a shock.

The other three ran into the kitchen and surveyed the scene in surprise. Ed looked up at them, his earlier confidence swirling down the proverbial drain. That’s what I get for being so cocky, he thought.

“Light’s fixed,” he said, grinning in embarrassment.

Vera rushed to help him, while John and Rick began to laugh.

“John! Richard!” she scolded. “It’s not funny.”

“Yes, it is,” Ed said, beginning to chuckle himself. He got to his feet and dusted himself off.

“Are you all right?” Vera asked anxiously.

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “Nothing broken but my dignity.”

“We’ve all broken that at one time or another,” John said, flipping the light switch on and off. “But you’ve certainly fixed the light, Ed. Thank you. That flickering’s been driving us crazy for weeks. I don’t want to offend you by offering you money, but how about some hot and sour soup?”

“Sounds good to me,” Ed said, returning the screwdriver to the toolbox. “I never turn down food in exchange for cash.”

Ed looked up and saw Rick’s eyes upon him, his warm and tender special in place.

“You’re something else, you know that, baby?”

John looked at his son, then at his wife. “I don’t think you need to worry quite so much, Vera.” He grinned. “I get the feeling Rick’s in good hands in Porterfield.”

* * * * *

After a lunch of hot and sour soup and garlic chicken, which Ed thoroughly enjoyed, they returned to the Benton house for another round of coffee. Ed was beginning to see where Rick had acquired his coffee habit. He relaxed in his chair, tea mug in hand, feeling almost at home as he would with his own parents.

By late afternoon Rick was glancing at his watch and making noises about having to get up early for work the next day. “It’s a long drive back, and I’d like to have some downtime before I go to bed.”

“We understand,” John said, with a glance at his wife. “Not everyone is lucky enough to be teachers with a long Christmas vacation.”

“That sucked when we were kids,” Rick said to Ed. “With our parents on the same schedule, Claire and I never got away with anything.”

“Well, I’m sorry you need to leave, but please come back when you can, both of you,” Vera said, rising to her feet.

The other three joined her.

“You need to drive up to Porterfield some weekend,” Rick told her, allowing himself to be hugged.

Vera moved over to Ed for a hug as warm as the one she had given her son. “We’ll do that. Perhaps for Rick’s birthday in March, if not sooner. I hate to make definite plans at this time of year, considering how brutal our past few winters have been.” She gave Ed an extra squeeze. “It’s been a real pleasure, Ed. Please do come again.”

“Oh, I will, thank you.” Ed smiled at her in gratitude, as he was pretty sure he had passed inspection.

“You watch that back of yours, Ed, with all that snow shoveling,” John said, shaking his hand. “You don’t want to end up like Rick here.”

Rick sighed. “I’ll keep an eye on him, believe me. One bad back in the family is enough.” He hugged his father. “Thanks again for the book, Dad.” At Rick’s request, John had located and loaned to him a book on Victorian architecture. “I’ve really been curious about this since we visited Mrs. Penfield. I’ll give it back the next time I see you.”

“No hurry,” John assured him.

“You’ll call when you get home, won’t you?” Vera asked worriedly as they went to the door.

“Oh, Mom,” Rick groaned.

Ed gave Rick a mock punch to the arm. “I’ll make sure he does,” Ed told her.

Vera smiled at him. “Thank you, Ed, for that and everything else.”

Good-byes were said, and soon the two were back in the car, headed toward the freeway. Rick began to chuckle.

“Why is it,” he said, “that every time you fix something for someone in my family, you end up in trouble?”

Ed punched him for real this time. “I took handyman lessons from the Three Stooges,” he retorted. “But, hey! Once again, I fixed it, didn’t I?”

“You sure did, baby, you sure did,” Rick said, pointing the car north, toward home.

“So how’d I do?”

“What do you think?” Rick scoffed. “They loved you. I knew they would. All that worry for nothing.”

“Well, I’m still relieved it’s over. I mean, relieved that the first meeting is over, if you know what I mean. I can go back there and know I’m welcome. Besides, I really liked them. It would be fun to visit again.”

The warm and tender special was firmly in place on Rick’s face. “You don’t know how much that means to me, baby. I know you were nervous about them liking you, but I was nervous about you liking them. So you think you can handle them for in-laws?”

“Definitely.”

“If I wasn’t concentrating on three lanes of traffic, I’d give you a big ole kiss. Remind me to do it when we hit that rest stop, okay?”

“You got it,” Ed said, putting his hand possessively on Rick’s leg.

Rick reached for the car stereo and slipped his mix tape back in to play. The Spiral Starecase came blasting through the car speakers with “More Today Than Yesterday.”

“Ain’t that truth,” Rick shouted. “Baby, I love you more today than yesterday, and I have a damned good feeling that it’s not as much as I’m gonna love you tomorrow.”

Chapter Fifteen

With one bare foot jammed under the other blue-jean-covered thigh, Ed sat at his kitchen table, hunched over his pocket calculator. He was muddling through one of his least favorite chores: end-of-the-month billing for his regular clients.

He frowned at his scrawled notes, added hours worked, multiplied by dollars per hour, and gave thanks to whoever invented the pocket calculator. Mrs. Penfield may have given him straight A’s, but none of his math teachers had ever been inclined to do so.

The phone rang, and Ed heaved a sigh of relief. He didn’t care who it was; even his mother would be a welcome change from pages of numbers.

“Happy New Year,” Glen shouted when Ed answered. “How’d it go with Rick’s folks?”

“Hey, Happy New Year to you too,” Ed said. “It went fine, really. I like them, they liked me. No sweat.”

“Amazing,” Glen snorted. “I haven’t met Michael’s parents, and frankly, I don’t care if I ever do from the way he talks. You guys are, like, charmed or something.”

Ed sighed, smiling. “Yeah, we sure are.”

“Oh, God. Don’t get started. Any minute Barbra Streisand’s gonna start singing the love theme from A Star Is Born. Listen, though, the reason I called—you remember Greg and Randy?”

Ed frowned at the phone. “Vaguely. Are they the ones who had that Halloween party last year that all the drag queens crashed?”

“Yeah, that’s them. Anyway, they’re having a New Year’s bash tomorrow night. I know it’s last minute and all, but they said you and Rick are more than welcome to come.”

“Hmm. Well, I could live without another drag queen invasion, thanks just the same. We’ve already got plans, but tell them thanks for the invitation.”

“Plans? Big New Year’s plans in Porterfield? What are you gonna do, drink a beer and watch the traffic lights change color?” Glen snickered.

“Oh, you’re so funny. If you must know, we are babysitting.”

Glen gasped. “Babysitting? On New Year’s Eve?”

Ed smiled. He knew that would get him. “Yes, babysitting. Claire’s going to Indy overnight to see some old high school friends, so Rick and I are staying at the house with the kids. New Year’s just isn’t that big a deal to us.”

“My God, I can’t believe it. It’s bad enough he’s over there playing daddy, but now you are too. What’s next? When are you gonna buy a station wagon and move to the suburbs?”

“Look, Glen, I know it’s weird, and I know it’s nothing you would do or would want to do, but it’s okay with me. The kids are important to Rick, and I don’t mind spending time with them. And if Rick and I are not behaving like two gay guys in love should behave, well, tough shit. I don’t really give a rat’s ass what anyone thinks. We’re enjoying ourselves, and that’s all I care about.”

Glen was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, Ed. I’m just kinda surprised.”

Ed felt bad for getting so indignant with Glen, yet realized that what he had said held a great deal of truth.

“I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to get so huffy. I guess I’m just realizing what I have with Rick is what I always wanted. No drag queens, no gay bars, no bullshit. I hate to admit it, but I think I’d rather spend New Year’s with three kids than a bunch of bitchy queens.”

Glen sighed. “Well, you always have been kind of different. If Rick is giving you everything you need, then I’m really happy for you. Not many guys get that lucky, you know.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.”

“So enjoy it. But don’t be a stranger, okay? Give me a call sometime.”

“Sure,” Ed said, hearing the back door open. “Listen, Rick just showed up with our lunch, and he’s got less than an hour to eat and get back to the post office. I’ll call you after the holiday, okay?”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Glen said as he hung up.

Rick put a paper bag of takeout from the Cozy Hearth Café on the table, shoving aside a pile of invoices, envelopes, and stamps. He then reached out for Ed.

“Mmm,” Rick moaned, kissing Ed deeply. “Hi, baby. Who was on the phone?”

“Just Glen,” Ed said, stealing a quick kiss of his own. “He was inviting us to some party for tomorrow night.”

Rick chuckled as he opened the bag. “I’ll bet he about shit his pants when you told him what we’re doing,” he said, handing Ed his sandwich.

Ed grinned. “Of course. I think I took a little too much pleasure in telling him about our hot New Year’s plans. Oh, well. We’re weird and proud of it, right?”

“Right,” Rick said, sitting down. “I don’t care where I am when 1981 begins, as long as you’re with me, kids or no kids. Now, do I get a cold Pepsi or what?”

“I’m working on it,” Ed grumbled, going to the refrigerator. “Be careful with that sandwich, mister. Don’t get any mayo on my invoices, you hear?”

Rick smirked at him. “What will happen if I do?”

“You can spend New Year’s Eve with Glen and Michael, instead of me.”

Rick shuddered. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Ed laughed, handing him a Pepsi. “Don’t worry. I love you too much to inflict that kind of punishment on you. Besides, right now I’m just happy to see you. I miss seeing you at lunchtime every day, so this is special. Having you here is even better than the Cozy Hearth roast beef sandwich you brought me, and you know how much I love them.”

“Well, eat up, then.” Rick gestured at Ed’s sandwich. “I even remembered the rye bread. Yeah, even if I can’t stay very long, I’m glad to see you, too. Man, I can’t wait to get my route back.”

“Any word from Don on when you’ll be back on the street?”

Rick shrugged. “I hope it’s not too much longer,” he mumbled through a mouth full of food.

“You want me to put in a good word for you?”

“You know him?” Rick asked, swallowing hard.

“Of course! I told you he used to play cards with my dad every week. Hell, he was one of the pallbearers at Dad’s funeral. I’ve known Don Hoffmeyer my whole life.”

“How ’bout that. Influence with my boss.” Rick attempted a smile, but failed. “I’m about half-tempted to take you up on that.”

There it was again, Ed thought. Something was bothering Rick about his job, and it was something more than missing his mail route. “What’s wrong?”

Rick looked uneasy. “I’m just tired of that sorting room, that’s all.”

“No, there’s something else. I can tell. It’s been on your mind for days now.” Ed put his sandwich down, went around to Rick’s side of the table, and put his arms around him. “Darlin’, please tell me. That’s what I’m here for, the good stuff and the bad. I hate seeing you upset about something, then not sharing it with me.”

Rick put his sandwich down, sighing. “Oh, shit. This is so dumb,” he said, then paused. He looked up at Ed, obviously reluctant to continue, but Ed stared him down. “Well, there’s this guy who’s been ragging on me. He’s seen us together and has somehow put two and two together. I mean, it’s subtle, so far, but I don’t want the other guys to pick up on it. I figure once I’m out of there, that’ll be the end of it. Plus, Jim’s such an asshole that I’m hoping the other guys aren’t paying much attention to him.”

“Aw, crud.” Ed rolled his eyes. “Jim Murkland? Oh, God. I forgot he worked there.”

“Yeah, that’s who it is,” Rick said, looking surprised. “Shit, do you know everyone at that post office?”

“Pretty much,” Ed said. “My dad, through Don, knew most of the older guys. And I went to school with”—Ed closed his eyes to count—“at least three of the younger ones: Gordy Smith, Dave Brown, and Murk the Jerk. God, I hate that guy. Why does it not surprise me to hear that he hasn’t changed a bit?”

“He was a jerk in high school, too, huh?” Rick asked.

Ed nodded. “Oh, yes. Good old Jim Murkland, Class of ’70 with me. The class wiseass. Only he wasn’t particularly funny. He was just mean. Picked on the homely girls, the fat girls. Oh, and he picked on my friend, Ted Gillis, who was overweight. Since I was dorky and shy back then, not that I’m not anymore, he nailed me, too. God, what a creep.”

Ed paused for a moment, remembering. “He hung out with a group of guys that were pretty much like him—losers with the girls, not good enough to be on the teams, not tough enough to hang out with the hoods. So their claim to fame was bugging the teachers, picking on the other kids. Jim was kinda the ringleader. I remember”—Ed chuckled—“that of all of the guys in our class, Jim had the lowest lottery number. I don’t think I’m the only one who hoped he’d get shipped to ’Nam and get blown to bits.”

“Did he? Go, I mean?”

“Well, he was drafted. But I don’t think he ever made it out of the States. Things were winding down by that time. I vaguely remember him coming home, acting like a big shot, although I don’t think anyone was really impressed. He goofed around for a while, and finally Don hired him at the post office. Why, I don’t know. I always gave Don credit for more brains than that. But Jim’s been there ever since.” Ed shook his head. “And still making trouble. How have you been handling him?”

Rick shrugged. “Saying that you and I are friends, and I don’t understand why he’s making a big deal about it. Come to think of it, I really don’t know why he is. It’s not like you and I are a couple of screaming queens, necking in public.”

“That’s just Jim,” Ed responded. “I’m sure he doesn’t know anything, but he had to find something to razz you about. He won’t leave anyone alone. I’m guessing, too, that you are a hell of a lot better at sorting mail than he is. He couldn’t find his ass with both hands and a flashlight. He also gave it to the smart kids, too. He’s just a bigmouthed loser.”

“That’s for sure,” Rick mumbled.

“What does Don say about it?”

“Oh, I haven’t said anything to him about it. I’m sure he’s heard it all before, and I’m a grown man. I can handle Jim. I just wish I didn’t have to,” Rick said, going back to his sandwich.

“Boy,” said Ed dreamily, “I’ll tell you, once I grew a couple of inches and got a lot stronger, there was nothing more I wanted to do than beat the livin’ shit out of that guy. Here’s my excuse.”

“You stay out of it,” Rick said sharply. “He really doesn’t have any evidence that we are anything more than friends, and I’m not going to give it to him. I’ll be back on my route eventually, and that’ll be the end of it.”

“Yeah, but you know? I sure would love to get just one lick in, just one.”

“Didn’t anyone else ever beat him up?” Rick asked curiously.

“Umm, I don’t think so. He knew better than to give any shit to guys who were bigger and tougher than him. He wasn’t that dumb. Gordy Smith, for instance, there at the post office. Gordy was a couple years ahead of us, played football and all that. I bet Jim never rags on him.”

Rick looked thoughtful. “Come to think of it, you’re right. He doesn’t mess with Gordy. Oh, well. I’m still the new guy. I suppose that’s my crime.”

“Well, I know one thing,” Ed said. “You ever need backup, you’ll get it from Gordy. I can’t imagine him putting up with Murkland. And he’s always been a pretty cool guy.”

“Yes, he is. I like Gordy. I can handle most of the guys there, but this guy is the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever worked with.”

Ed smiled, trying to cheer him up. “You’re right. You’ll be out of there soon. Until then, just threaten to rearrange his face, and I bet he’ll back down. He’s a loser through and through, and I’ve no doubt you can take him.”

Rick looked at him sternly. “I’m not going to start any trouble. I could just see him going to Don. No, I’ll just deal with it for now. And you,” he said, reaching across the table to give Ed a mock punch, “keep your macho fantasies to yourself.”

* * * * *

Ed showed up at the Romanowski house the next evening with a big box full of records, and an overnight bag. Ed spending the night at Rick’s was novel, to say to least.

Judy met him at the door. “Oh, cool. You brought your records. Mom said we could use her stereo if we’re careful.”

Ed grinned at her. “Great! I just hope there are some songs in here you like.”

“Ed’s here! Ed’s here!” Jane chanted, jumping up and down on the sofa. “Look what I got for Christmas, Ed.” She pointed at a Chutes and Ladders game on the floor.

Thank God, he thought. He was getting burned out on Candy Land.

“Aw, I want Ed to play Battleship with me,” Josh hollered, indicating the game he’d gotten for Christmas.

“Ed and I are going to play records,” Judy told them both bossily. “Uncle Rick can play with you.”

“Geez, I don’t know when I’ve felt so popular,” Ed said to Rick, who came in from the kitchen.

“Hey, hey,” Rick shouted, as the children fought over who would get ownership of Ed. “There’s enough of Ed to go around. Judy, you look through Ed’s records while he plays some Chutes and Ladders with Janie. She’ll have to go to bed pretty soon anyway. Josh, you and I can play a round of Battleship. Ed can play the winner.” Rick winked at Ed, who knew damned well who was going to win that game.

Jane grabbed Ed’s hand in triumph, pulling him down to the floor by her game. “I’m not going to bed. I’m going to stay up and watch that ball fall down.”

“Me too,” Josh chimed in.

“Uncle Rick,” Judy whined. “Do they get to stay up too?”

Rick winked at Judy this time. “If they want to stay up, they can. Midnight’s a long way away, kids. Heck, I might be asleep by then.”