Chase of a Lifetime (22 page)

Jim smiled. He never would have guessed his
father would have been the type to drive a Corvette, let alone a red one with a
manual transmission. He kissed his mother and said, “I have a friend in LA who
thinks it’s very sexy when a woman in a short skirt drives a stick shift.”

Helen’s face turned red and she laughed.
“Well, my short skirt days were over about fifteen years ago.” Before she
climbed out of the car she poked his ribs and said, “C’mon. Let’s go inside and
have lunch. You look like skin and bones.”

Jim had changed a little since he’d last
seen them at Christmastime. They’d flown to LA to spend the holidays with him,
partly because the Dallas house had been upside down from packing for the move
and partly because Jim still didn’t want to go home to Dallas. He didn’t want
to run into Len, or anyone in the Mayfield family. Since he’d last seen his
parents, he’d begun a new workout regimen that built his muscles and thinned
his body fat. Though he’d never been overweight, his clothes were loose and his
stomach had those ridges he’d always wanted. He had a natural tan just from
being outdoors in LA and he’d lightened his hair a little. They weren’t obvious
changes that people who saw him daily would notice. But people who hadn’t seen
him in a while would definitely take stock and wonder for a moment.

When they went up to the new loft, Jim’s
father hugged him and gave him the grand tour. The main living space was an
open floor plan, with exposed brick and modern black leather furniture. Jim
followed his father with his mouth open and his hand on his chest. This was
nothing like the conservative home where he’d grown up. Where were the tall
Greek columns and Asian vases? This was the complete opposite of everything
he’d ever known about his parents and it made him smile. Returning to Dallas,
with all these changes, wasn’t as hard as he’d thought it would be. There was
nothing in the loft that reminded him even remotely of Len Mayfield or what had
happened the previous summer.

When they went out for the birthday dinner
that night, to a small restaurant in Dallas where his father was certain they
wouldn’t run into anyone they knew that would acknowledge his birthday, Jim’s
mother tipped the waiter to bring a small cake out after dinner, with one tiny
candle. When Jim’s father saw the waiter approach with the cake, headed
directly for their table, he frowned for a moment. But Jim’s mother thought
fast and said, “I know you didn’t want anything elaborate, but you can’t deny
me one little cake and one candle. Is that too much to ask?” Jim and his father
exchanged glances and shrugged. Though Jim could see his father wasn’t thrilled
about the cake or the candle, he smiled and kissed Helen on the cheek. “That
was very thoughtful, dear. Thank you. But if you start to sing happy birthday
in front of all these strangers, I’m getting up and I’m leaving.”

Helen knew better: they didn’t sing or make
a fuss. After Jim’s father blew out the candle and made a wish, Helen cut the
cake and served it. Jim told her he only wanted a small piece because he didn’t
want to ruin his high protein diet. But she cut him a large slice anyway and he
decided it would be much better to just smile, eat what he could, and say thank
you.

During coffee, Jim’s father asked, “So how
do you like the new loft?”

“I love it,” Jim said. “I would love
something like that in LA.” He’d just purchased the home he’d been renting. He
had a lot of renovations to do. The electric range in the kitchen, with knobs
and dials, was about twenty years older than he was.

“We’ve never been happier,” said Helen.
“Some of our friends are doing the same thing after they saw us make the
decision to sell the house. When you get older you start to want more freedom
and you don’t get that with a big house, a ranch with tons of property, and
stables. We can come and go as we please now without worrying about landscapers
or pool people or horses.”

While Jim’s father started to tell him about
what some of their friends were doing, Jim wondered what had happened to Len
Mayfield and his wife. Jim didn’t dare ask. Though his parents had accepted his
lifestyle and supported his decisions, he knew how they felt about what had
happened with Len Mayfield.
 
He was
certain his mother and father had stopped all communication with Len and Janice
after he’d left Dallas. And there was no reason to upset them that night.

So Jim told them a little about some of the
renovations he was planning for his house in LA. He also told them he’d just
adopted a new puppy, a Labrador-poodle mix he’d named Clinger. When his mother
asked why he’d named the dog Clinger, he smiled and said, “Because he clings to
me everywhere I go. I didn’t name him for the first two weeks I had him. I
wanted to give him a name that fit with his personality. When I realized that
he never leaves my side, I figured Clinger would be the perfect name.”

Helen loved dogs. It was only recently they
hadn’t had them. Jim had grown up with dogs, cats, fish, and rabbits around the
house, not to mention the horses. Jim realized the magnitude of the life-change
must have been hard for her at times. “Where is he now?” Helen asked. “Why
didn’t you bring him?”

Jim shrugged. “I thought the trip would be
too much for a puppy. My buddy in LA is house-sitting for me. Besides, Clinger
isn’t completely house trained yet. I didn’t want him to break in all your new
sisal carpets in the loft.”

Helen waved her hand. “Nonsense,” she said.
“Next time you come, you’re bringing Clinger. Rugs can be cleaned or replaced.”
She sounded genuinely disappointed.

Jim’s father cleared his throat and sent him
a somber glance. “You mentioned that your buddy was house-sitting? Is he a close
friend?”

Jim’s eyebrows went up. He had a feeling his
father was fishing for information. “My buddy, Kurt. He works as a sound
technician for a movie studio.”

Helen smiled. She exchanged a quick glance
with Jim’s father. “How nice. Do you think we’ll be meeting Kurt anytime soon?
We want you to know you can feel free to bring anyone home to meet us, dear.”

Jim’s father cleared his throat again. “Is
Kurt around your age?”

Jim almost choked on his cake. They still
had this fear he might wind up with another older married man. He sent his
father a smile and said, “Kurt is a few years older than I am. He’s married and
they just had a baby.”

Helen set her napkin down and said, “Oh,
dear. He’s married
and
he’s older.”

Jim laughed and said, “Mom, Kurt is straight.
I’m not dating him. I’m not dating anyone seriously now. I’m too busy with work
and the house to be bothered. And trust me, Clinger takes up a lot of my time
when I’m not working.” The time had passed so quickly, and he’d been so busy,
he hadn’t thought about sex much. It always amused him when straight people
thought gay men were having sex all the time. Nothing could have been farther
from the truth.

Helen and his father exchanged a relieved
glance and Helen said, “I think we should adopt a puppy.” Evidently, she wanted
to change the subject.

“That’s a great idea,” Jim said. He wanted
to move on to another topic, too.

Then they talked about the responsibilities
of owning a pet and the fact that Jim’s father wasn’t certain he wanted to be
tied down to a dog or cat at this point in his life. They were leaving for a
three week summer cruise in Greece in a month and all they had to do now was
pack their bags and lock the loft door.

After dinner, Jim insisted on picking up the
check. He was making very good money now and he wanted to do this for his
father’s fiftieth birthday. After a few small arguments with Helen, she finally
relented and Jim handed the waiter his credit card. When they stood up to leave
and the handsome young waiter in tight black pants brought back Jim’s card, he
sent him a sultry glance and gazed down at Jim’s crotch. Though Jim’s mother
and father were arguing about who was going to drive the Corvette back to the
loft and they noticed nothing, Jim knew the young waiter was flirting with him.
So he smiled, glanced at the waiter’s pants, and said, “Thanks.” It felt good
to have a nice looking young guy flirt with him. It felt even better when his
dick responded to the waiter’s obvious advances. Jim knew he was ready to start
seeing other men again. If he’d been alone that night, Jim would have given the
cute young waiter his phone number. He smiled all the way back to the loft. And
yet, that night when he closed his eyes, he thought about Len Mayfield, not the
cute waiter.

On Saturday, Jim went grocery shopping with
his mother so she could pick up a few things for a small barbeque she’d planned
on Monday afternoon. It was only going to be Jim and his parents. They wanted
to keep it small that weekend and just enjoy each other because they saw so
little of each other all year long. And Jim had a late flight out of Dallas on
Monday night.

In the afternoon, Jim went tire shopping
with his father. His mother’s old Mercedes sedan needed new tires and Jim said
he’d go along to keep his father company while he waited for the tires to be
changed. When they came home, Jim took a long nap and didn’t wake up until six
in the evening. He’d been rushing around since he’d left LA and he’d needed the
sleep.

That night a few of his mom and dad’s
friends came over for dinner. Some of them were people Jim had grown up with
and hadn’t seen since his graduation party last June, and some were new faces. He
wondered if any of them knew about what he’d done with Len Mayfield. He excused
himself early and went into the guest room to read for a while. He checked his
e-mail, phoned his friend Kurt to see how Clinger was doing, and fell into a
deep sleep around
midnight
.

In the morning, his parents said they had
accepted an invitation to brunch with friends. Jim’s father handed him the keys
to the red Corvette and said, “It’s all yours today. We won’t be back until at
least five or six tonight.”

His mother kissed him good-bye and handed
him a list. “Could you please stop at the drugstore and pick up these things
for me. I won’t have a chance to do anything today. There’s one thing on the
list that’s very important.”

Although Jim had planned on spending the day
in the loft, reading and watching old movies on TV, he told his mother he’d get
everything on the list. Around one o’clock he grew restless and decided to go
out for a drive before he went to the drugstore. He drove down his old road and
slowed down when he passed the big house he’d grown up in. The house was so far
from the main road he couldn’t see much; just outlines. He smiled when he
glanced in the distance and wondered if the new owners still had the same old
guy managing the ranch. Closer to the road, a young man who appeared to be the
new owner was outside on the grass working on a small pink bicycle and a little
girl was watching him. When the new owner glanced up and saw Jim staring, Jim
waved at him and continued down the road.

He drove by his old school, his old
playground, and stopped to watch the horses at a larger ranch he’d always
loved. After that, he drove to where he’d spent a great deal of his time
growing up: the Mayfield house. When he pulled up to the edge of the driveway
and saw a for sale sign out front with a “sold” sign hanging beneath it, he sat
and stared
 
for a while, wondering what
had become of Len. He had to know; it was killing him. He would ask his mother
quietly later that night, when his father was watching TV. All he wanted was
basic information, to know that nothing bad had happened to them. She had to
have heard something.

When he pulled away from the Mayfield house,
he felt a sting in his chest. That’s when he thought twice about asking his
mother anything and decided it would be better not to discuss Len again. He’d
put it to rest; it was time to move on with his life. When he parked the red Corvette
outside the drugstore, he told himself he would aggressively start working on
his social life…and sex life…the moment he returned to LA. Most of all, he
would stop thinking about Len before he went to sleep at night.

His mother’s list was small. She wanted
cotton balls, a bottle of witch hazel, and a peculiar item with a name he’d
never heard of. His mother had written, in parenthesis, “This is important. If
you can’t find it ask for help. It’s for your father.” He laughed because it
almost sounded as though she were whispering in the note.

While he picked up the cotton balls and the
witch hazel, he heard a baby screaming somewhere in another part of the store.
He was glad he hadn’t had too much wine the night before at dinner; he would hate
to have to listen to that piercing scream with a hangover. As the baby
continued to belt out shrieks that made his temples pound, Jim found a young
woman who worked at the drugstore and pointed to what his mother had written on
the list. He couldn’t even pronounce the name of the item. The girl blinked at
him and pointed to the back of the store. “There’s a whole aisle of those types
of things back there,” she said. “I’m sure it’s there.”

He crossed through the aisles, passing food
products and soft drinks, wondering what had happened to drugstores that only
sold drugs and sundries. The screaming from the baby grew more intense. He
walked faster, so he could get out of there with his eardrums intact and wound
up in an aisle where they sold laxatives and stool softeners. He glanced at the
shelves and saw every product ever invented to experience the perfect bowl
movement. Some said “full strength,” and “heavy duty,” others said things like
“softener,” and “mild.” The product with the strange name his mother wanted was
way down at the bottom in the “All Natural” section, beneath a row of fleet
enemas that were marked down to half price that day.