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"I give them all names, you know," the man said, his breath hanging on the morning air like a small patch of fog. Intrigued by the voice, Leo Chapin turned, and examined the man with whom he'd been sharing a park bench. He had a voice which felt like being wrapped in a warm and comforting blanket, a welcome thought in a world of glittering, new-fallen snow. Leo was about to look away, when the trim man, with greying hair, continued speaking, as if finishing an earlier thought. "The pigeons," he explained, as he scattered a handful of bits of bread onto the brick path in front of the bench. The birds pounced, darting one way, then another, as the man tossed out more tasty morsels. "Oh?" Leo asked, distracted by the cold. "Names?" He shrugged his coat tighter about his shoulders and frowned, as he closed the book he'd brought from home. 'What am I doing here?' he wondered, as he squinted into the pale, slanting, light of early afternoon. Branches of nearby trees hung low, their ice-covered twigs sparkling in the feeble light. 'I'm about to freeze my tail off! It's time for me to head home.' A young boy sped past on a bicycle, scattering the pigeons to the low branches of nearby trees, where they became animated ornaments, on branches devoid of summer foliage. The boy whooped with glee, unaware of the frown which followed him until he disappeared around the bend in the pathway. The man pursed his lips and frowned in disapproval. Leo was about to excuse himself when the man chuckled, as the birds, lured by another handful of breadcrumbs, left their perches and returned to the brick path, the momentary interruption forgotten. "That one, with the large, iridescent, pink breast, I call Dolly . . . for Dolly Parton, the country-western singer." He turned and grinned, his pale green eyes dancing, as if sharing a joke. Leo's attention shifted from the man, wearing a dark coat and bright red scarf, to the pigeons and back, as a smile played over his lips, his attention captivated more by the voice, the playful green eyes, and perfect teeth, than by the allusion to the buxom, blonde singer. 'Maybe I'll stay a while longer,' he thought. 'I'm not as cold as I thought.' "She's quite the flirt." There was a slight pause. "Both the bird and the singer," the stranger added, dryly. "That purplish one is Ralph. He's a regular. Whenever he sees me approaching, he starts circling overhead, no doubt wondering what tasty morsels I am about to dispense. I must admit, he is my favorite. "He's immune to Dolly's feminine wiles, but Dolly, the little tart, does her best to attract his attention. See!" the man nodded toward the birds, and chuckled, as the full-breasted bird paused in front of . . . Ralph, and sidled up to him, shaking her tail. Ralph responded with a disdainful upward twitch of his beak, turned, and pounced on an especially large nugget of bread, chosen especially for him. "Nelson," the man said, after a prolonged silence. "Which one is he?" Leo asked, absorbed by the man's description of the various birds' behavior. The green-eyed man chuckled. "That's me, the looniest ol' bird of 'em all." A helpless puff of a laugh escaped Leo's lips, "Oh! My apologies, though surely one of your little friends could easily be named Nelson." "Hmm . . . I don't know. I would like to think that I am unique. I know there are other men who share my name, of course, but none of them are quite like me." His smile faded, slightly. "No . . . those men have better things to do than sit in the park on a godawful day, feeding the birds. Still . . . I fancy the birds enjoy my company, so I return every day, no matter the weather. I've known them since their mothers told them I am a pushover for a good meal. "Venturing into the cold also has the additional benefit of allowing me to chat with someone, such as yourself." Nelson studied the slender man. 'So serious,' he thought. 'His smiles never seem to reach his eyes.' "And, by what name do you go by?" he finally asked. "Oh . . . sorry, I'm Leo." Nelson's eyes danced. "Ahhhh, Leo . . . such a strong name. I don't believe I've ever known someone named Leo. "So . . . tell me. Why are you in the park, on such a frigid day?" he asked, as he shook the bag which had recently held the bits of bread, then folded it and slid it into a coat pocket. The birds seemed to realize dinner was over; and all, except Ralph, took off, in search of another meal. Ralph, though, walked about, searching for any overlooked tidbit; then, after waiting patiently, appeared to shrug, and flew off. Leo heaved a great sigh. He shrugged, unwilling to meet Nelson's gaze, as a muscle jumped in his jaw and his mouth twisted in annoyance. "I'm here because I have nothing better to do." Nelson's brows rose. "I've recently retired," Leo explained, "and have found I enjoy being at home, as much as my wife enjoys having me there . . . underfoot. She and I are like an old . . . broken record, heard through an open window, on a humid and hot summer night." Nelson's lips quirked, and one eyebrow rose. "You know . . . the type of recording," Leo continued, warming to his subject. "One phrase endlessly repeats, over and over, until you're driven crazy. You're powerless to change the situation . . . because it's coming from a neighbor's, you see. And, everything is made worse by the humidity and heat. "After the tenth time . . . someone . . . says, 'put your shoes where they belong,' one is ready to scream. After the twentieth, one is ready to throw something . . . or . . . leave the warmth of one's apartment and escape, out into the cold, carrying a book written in a language . . . one . . . doesn't understand." "Hmm," Nelson murmured, doing his best to appear understanding. "One moment we were suffering through a hot and humid summer night. The next, you're heading out into the cold." "I have been listening to the broken record since that summer night," Leo grumbled, flicking a grin at the man sitting close by. "I failed to mention that particular summer night occurred in July 1976." "Ahhh," Nelson said, as if in sudden understanding. "Um . . . how unfortunate for . . . ahem . . . one." "I'll say! You don't, by any chance, know Swahili, do you?" The question caused Nelson's eyes to light, in amusement, his raised eyebrows inviting an explanation. Leo held up the paperback. "This thing might as well be written in Swahili. I don't have a clue what it says, or why it was in my apartment, let alone why it's sitting on my lap." He looked down the path. "I think I'll put it in the next rubbish bin I see." "You've obviously given this much thought." "Actually, no. I just thought of it." Leo's eyes widened. "Oh . . . you mean I've thought a lot about how irritating my . . . broken record is." "I believe I may soon become hopelessly confused," Nelson laughed. It was a carefree sound, which caused Leo's grin to finally reach his eyes. "Thank you." The grin blossomed into a smile. "Thank you," he chuckled. "It has been ages since I've felt like laughing. Well . . . at least a couple weeks." Nelson melodramatically sighed. "Okay. Now you've done it! I have no clue what you're talking about. I am, however, deriving immense enjoyment from my confusion. "Um . . . even though I fear I shall regret asking," he teased, the corners of his eyes crinkling, "I'll chance it." He cleared his throat. "Regarding your . . . recording . . . um, perhaps you should . . . move." His green eyes twinkled. "Or, do you fear the . . . recording . . . will follow?" Leo laughed, marveling how Nelson's voice, and the conversation had driven away thoughts of the cold. He turned to face the man he already thought of as a friend. "That's what I'm afraid of." He blinked, then sobered. "Actually, the recording which repeats over and over, is more than a single person . . . it is a state of being . . . it is my life. I'm in a rut, and have been for years. When I was working, the rut didn't seem so bad; but now . . ." He shrugged. "Now, it's all I'm able to think about." "So . . . you broke out of your boring routine by grabbing a book and heading to the park, heedless of the weather, or your ability to understand . . . Swahili . . . and searched out a person, such as myself, with whom to visit?" "Um . . . not exactly, though," Leo hastened to add, "Meeting you, and hearing about Dolly and Ralph, is a welcome occurrence. It feels so good to actually carry on a conversation with another person. I've grown accustomed to exchanging brief sentences." Nelson thought a moment. "Are you expected home soon? If not, may I buy you a cup of coffee? If I don't start moving, I fear I may become frozen to this park bench. Besides, I admit to being nosy. I'd like to learn more about this . . . rut in which you find yourself." Leo smiled. "Thanks for the invitation. I accept." He stood, suddenly anxious to be out of the cold. "I'm ready. Let's get going." The two men walked side-by-side, in companionable silence. One would occasionally point out something of interest, but, mostly, they took pleasure in one another's company. Finally, Nelson gestured toward a coffee shop, its brightly lit interior a beacon in the gloom, caused by the approaching wall of heavy clouds. "So . . . you're not enjoying your retirement," Nelson said, as the waitress departed, leaving behind two steaming cups of coffee, and something sweet, which should have had a sign touting a week's worth of calories, on one small-sized plate. Leo softly snorted. "Enjoying retirement? Nope," he answered, as he popped a piece of the gooey sweet roll into his mouth and rolled his eyes with pleasure, at the taste. He washed it down with a swallow of steaming coffee, and warmed to his theme. "Retirement might not be quite so bad if I had some hobbies, but . . ." he shrugged, then smiled, as he contemplated not only his, but Nelson's untouched pastry. "I would guess gardening might be considered a hobby." "You guess?" "Well," Leo made a face and glanced away, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm not a very successful gardener. My youngest daughter has set aside a small patch of her yard, labeling it Dad's plot." He looked at the man across the table, from beneath half-lowered lashes. "I've often wondered if there might be a secondary meaning in the dear girl's choice of words. You know . . . as in cemetery plot?" "Ahhhh," Nelson said, barely able to keep from laughing at his new friend's sudden transformation. 'Is it a sugar high?' he wondered. 'He surely doesn't eat this way all the time. The man doesn't have an ounce of fat on his entire body. He also . . . fills out his trousers, beautifully. I've never known a man his age with a bubble butt. The moment I turned fifty, wham . . . my butt succumbed to gravity.' "You're smiling," Leo said, as he finished off his super-mega-sized sweet roll, with double icing. "What are you thinking about?" The comment gave Nelson pause. 'I am smiling! It's been so long, I thought I'd forgotten how.' "I was thinking about gravity. I think about it often. You?" "Not once, in my entire life," Leo answered. "I was thinking about the lonely sweet roll sitting . . . untouched . . . and unappreciated, in front of you. I'd be glad to relieve you of the temptation to indulge," he said, in a rush. "Do you eat like this all the time?" Nelson inquired, as he pushed his plate across the table. "Hell no! I never eat like this. I never do anything unexpected." He grinned, mischievously. "You're proving to be a liberating influence on me. I love it! Show me how to live, Nelson!" he cried, spreading his arms wide, and drawing amused attention from people sitting nearby. Leo took another bite of sweet roll, unrepentantly smiling with pleasure. "I was describing my gardening hobby. Well," he continued, as he returned his coffee cup to the table. "I take myself off to the garden center and buy a bunch of plants, all of which look great . . . at the center. The moment they are placed in my car, though, they seem to realize their fate has been sealed. "I rush back to . . . the plot . . . and dig a number of holes equal to the number of plants and . . . stick 'em in . . . the holes I mean . . . in the yard." Nelson grinned, and motioned his understanding. "Well . . . I wait a couple weeks, then yank the poor things up and toss them in the garbage. Lately, I've begun to think that, instead of gardening, I should tell anyone who asks, that digging holes in the yard is my hobby." He lowered his voice. "I attribute the demise of all my plants to poor soil. I, of course, am blameless," he added, with a straight face, and holding up a hand, as if taking an oath. "In the course of my gardening . . . efforts . . . I have dug up every square inch of my plot, in search of good soil." He sadly shook his head. "I've recently determined there isn't any. "Lately, the ground, in self defense, has begun to freeze, so I decided to abandon digging holes, and try something new. So . . ." he grinned, his eyes sparkling, "I grabbed this book of Swahili poetry and ventured out to brave the temperatures. "It's Korean, not Swahili." "Really? Well, fancy that. "Leo momentarily studied the book, as if seeing it in a new light. "How the hell did a book written in Korean come to be in my house? Do you happen to understand the language? If so, I would be forced to believe in some sort of cosmic something-or-other messing with my life." Nelson shook his head. "No, I do not read Korean. I was an English Professor. The two of us have something in common, you know." Leo raised his brows, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "You like playing in the dirt, and my profession was boring as dirt. "So . . ." Nelson sighed, inhaling the fragrance of the strong coffee and sighing with pleasure. "So, now that we've gotten all of that settled, why don't we talk about why you're unhappy, other than because of your miserable luck with growing things, of course." He held up a hand. "Remember, I warned you; I'm nosy. Besides, you're not happy. It's taken over an hour for your smile to finally reach your eyes." Leo's smile faded, as he set his fork next to the unfinished sweet roll. "I guess you could say, I'm bored . . . and, lonely. I've gone on like this for," he compressed his lips, "too long. It's too much trouble to start a new relationship; besides, I don't believe I am any longer, relationship material," He sighed, on an exhaled breath. "Like I told you earlier, I'm in a rut. I know I'm in a rut, yet I'm too lazy to do something about it. My wife feels the same way. I think we'd be happier living apart, but," he shrugged. "She, at least, continues to work." "I must disagree with you about not being relationship material. Leo, everyone is relationship material. And you . . . what's not to admire? You're far from going to seed. You've got a great sense of humor, you retain your hair, you're intelligent. I could go on." Leo grinned. "It sounds as if you're describing yourself." "Well," Nelson feigned an embarrassed expression. "I wouldn't have said so, myself; but, since you've seen the similarities between the two of us, I won't deny it." Leo studied the man sitting across from him, then burst into laughter. "Oh, you're good!" "I have, on occasion, been told that," Nelson demurred. "What? Who, besides me, has told you that?" "Well, certainly none of my students. But, we were talking about ruts and relationships. What sort of relationship would you be looking for, if you were free to form a new one? Would you be looking for another woman, with whom to share your life, or . . ." He paused. "The alternative is a man," Leo added. "I don't think it'd be too fulfilling to form any sort of lasting relationship with an animal." He looked up, from beneath his lashes. "That was supposed to be a joke." "Oh," Nelson laughed. "I'm never sure about you." Leo crookedly grinned. "That's my problem. Neither am I." "And, what does that mean?" Another shrug. "I don't know." There was a brief pause. "Hell, Nelson, who'd want a worn out, over the hill, guy like me? I think that that's the reason I don't even contemplate attempting to form a new relationship with someone. Who'd want me?" "Now, that is absolutely stupid! I expected better of you, Leo. I mean . . . really! You're what, sixty, sixty-five? You've got thirty years or more ahead of you! But, you won't have nearly that long if you don't start doing something to change your life, from the way it is, to the way you want it to be." Leo grinned. "That's what my son told me." He and his wife say they're worried about me. Then, of course, there's the . . . plot . . . in my daughter's yard." He frowned, in puzzlement. "I wonder if that's her way of saying the same thing." He shook his head, dismissing the idea. "My wife has her own support group . . . the folks she works with. My support group is still employed. They, however, weren't too much of a support group to begin with." "Smart son," Nelson murmured. "What do you suppose he, or your other children, would say if you divorced?" "'Good for you! It's about time! Why didn't you do this ages ago?' I've got three children. They'd support whatever I might do. I've got a wonderful relationship with each of them." "What about if you entered into a relationship with a man? You've said you're not interested in forming another relationship with a woman, or an animal. That pretty much leaves only men." Leo thought a moment. "I don't really know what they'd think. Hell, I don't know what I'd think! I've never been intimate with a man. I've never even had the desire to be intimate with one." "But the idea isn't repugnant to you?" Again, a period of silence, this one longer. "No . . . not really." Leo looked up from his cooling cup of coffee. "Are you suggesting that you . . . you . . . and I? If that's not what you're thinking, forgive me, but . . ." "Would that be repulsive . . . you and me?" Leo raked his fingers through his neatly trimmed greying hair. "Sheesh, Nelson! Is this a proposal, or what?" "Between those two choices, I'd have to say it's an, 'or what.' It's a thought. A thought, I personally find interesting. Just as I find you." "I guess this all means you're gay?" Leo asked. Nelson nodded once. "I'm in my own sort of rut, you see. My partner, the man I'd lived with for thirty-five years, died on the day I retired. That was two years ago." "Oh geez," Leo groaned. He reached across the table and rested a hand on top of Nelson's. "I'm so sorry." "Thanks," Nelson murmured, not trusting his voice to say more. He swallowed a gulp of air, glanced at the hand which still rested on his, and continued. "I'll never get over him. At first, I thought I couldn't go on, but," he shrugged, "I did. Now, I read, and feed the birds. Not a very fulfilling life, is it? So . . . you see, I'm in my own rut, though no one, I'm aware of, has a plot of ground reserved for my use. You are unique, in that respect," he added, in an attempt to lighten the mood. A grin tugged at Leo's lips. "So, tell me, um . . . what are you suggesting?" he finally asked, reluctantly drawing back his hand. "I'd like to be friends," Nelson responded. "I'd like to meet for coffee, or visit, or whatever. I'd like to get to know you. Maybe we can help one another." Leo thought for a moment. "Oh." "You sound disappointed with my answer," Nelson murmured. "No," a smile flitted across Leo's face. "Not disappointed. I'm . . . I don't know . . . pleased, intrigued, certainly happy to have sat on the same park bench as you, and to be sharing coffee with you. All-in-all, a wonderful experience, which I would enjoy repeating." "That brief moment, when you rested your hand on top of mine, was the first caring touch I've experienced in two years," Nelson said, his voice low. "Thank you." He paused, the noise of the restaurant fading into the background. "I think both of us have, in our own way, been very lonely. Maybe we can help each other find what we're searching for." Leo studied the man sitting across the table from him. "I don't know what I'm searching for." He compressed his lips. "Hell, until a few minutes ago, I didn't know I was searching for anything. Now, I'm not so sure." He looked up, wearing a trace of a smile. "I would very much enjoy getting to know you better. It's just . . ." he hesitated. When Nelson patiently waited, Leo heaved a sigh. "Intimacy is . . . frightening. I haven't had any sort of . . . physical closeness . . . in . . . geez . . . years. I'm not only talking about sex; I'm talking about a hug, a kiss, that sort of thing. I miss those things, much more than I miss sex." His eyes widened. "Don't get me wrong! I think sex is great. It's just that being held, hearing someone say they love me, sharing a kiss . . . Those things, in the overall scheme of things, mean more to me than getting my rocks off. "My wife and I don't yell at one another. We act as if we hardly know the other exists. If I didn't come home for a week, I doubt, seriously, if she'd even notice. I'm sorry to say, the same would most likely be true of me, if she didn't come home. We're not angry or anything. We're just ambivalent. I still love her . . . I guess." He paused, frowning. "I just don't have a pressing desire to be with her, any longer. Does that make sense?" he asked. "It might not, since this is the first time I've tried to articulate my feelings." "Did you have a satisfying relationship with her, at one time?" Leo thought a moment. "We must have. I honestly can't remember. If we did, it ended many years ago. We've coasted along since our last child was born." "And, how long has that been?" "Twenty-five years," Leo sheepishly admitted. At Nelson's raised brow expression, he added, "I'm in a rut." He compressed his lips into a thin line, not meeting Nelson's eyes. "Like I said earlier, when I was working, I . . . I guess I didn't feel the absence, either of a meaningful relationship, or intimacy. I had other things on my mind. I worked hard." His mouth twisted into a crooked grin. "I miss it . . . doing something constructive . . . y'know? "Now that I've retired," . . . He looked out through the window, at the darkening clouds. "I've got too much time, and not enough to do! I find myself wandering around the house, trying to find a means of occupying myself which won't disrupt things too much, for her. "Perhaps it would be better if she shouted at me, but she doesn't. I'm not a messy person. Still, she follows behind and straightens up after me. It's . . ." he grimaced, "torture by tidiness! "I'm lonely, Nelson!" he said, on an exhaled breath. "Meeting you and your feathery friends, and now, talking to you, has been wonderful. This is the first time, since I've retired, that I've been able to actually talk and have the person I'm talking to . . . listen." He grinned. "The sweet rolls were damn good, too!" He looked out through the restaurant's window again, at the clouds, which obscured the tops of distant high rise buildings. "I'd better get going. I've got a bit of a walk ahead of me, and I don't want to be caught out in the weather." "Here," Nelson said, thrusting an umbrella into his hand. "I have only to cross the street, to get home. You may need this more than I." "But . . ." "Returning it will give you an excuse to come to the park, eh? I've enjoyed myself more than I can say, Leo," he continued, as they left the restaurant. "I would love to get to know you better." Leo bowed his head, a feeling of warmth suffusing his body. "I . . . me, too. Thanks." "May I give you a hug?" Nelson asked, when Leo seemed unsure what to do next. "Uh . . . sure . . . I guess. Okay," he lowered his eyes. "I'd love that." Nelson wrapped his arms around his new friend and felt Leo's body slowly relax. 'Oh, my friend,' he thought, as Leo tentatively encircled Nelson's waist, returning the embrace. 'You are positively starved for affection.' "Um . . ." Leo cleared his throat, as the hug ended. "Thank you." He looked up, with an uncertain smile. "Thank you." He gulped. "It's just . . ." "Just?" Leo nodded. "You've just demonstrated to me precisely how lonely I've been." His eyes shifted toward the park, and presumably his home beyond. "It makes me wish I didn't have to go home . . . that I could have another hug . . . y'know?" "Do you have to?" "Go home?" Nelson nodded. "Yes. I . . . I wouldn't feel right, just not showing up. I may believe she wouldn't miss me, but, if I'm wrong, I don't want to cause her to worry. Um . . ." Leo hesitated. "If the park bench isn't buried in snow, I'll be back on tomorrow. If you can get away, I'd love to visit some more," Nelson said. Leo's smile flickered. "So would I." He made a helpless gesture. "Um . . . Do you think?" "Another hug?" "Would you mind?" "Ohhhh," Leo sighed, as they parted, the fog of his breath blown away by a gust of wind. "It is so wonderful, to be touched." Nelson teased. "Our coats were touching, Leo, nothing else." Leo laughed. "Which is just as well. I'm verging on emotional overload, as it is." He gulped. "Thank you, my friend. I'll see you tomorrow." He reached out and quickly squeezed Nelson's shoulder, then turned, and walked away. * * * 'Don't cry, dammit!' Leo shouted at himself. 'It's not as if you don't know what a hug is. Even so, if you'd hung around one minute longer, you'd have been bawling like a baby.' Leo opened the umbrella, as sleet, driven by the building wind, cut through the frigid air, and thought of the warmth of being held by the man he'd only just met. * * * "Hi, Sweetheart," Leo said, as he entered the apartment's kitchen and gave his wife a brief kiss on the cheek. She smiled, then returned to chopping vegetables. "Miserable outside?" Leo shuddered, as he dutifully hung his coat and scarf in the hall closet, and stood the umbrella next to the front door. "Worse than miserable. It's begun to sleet. I expect that we'll have a couple feet of snow by this time tomorrow." "I met a nice guy, over at the park," he said, as he leaned against a kitchen counter and watched his wife work. "He was feeding the pigeons, and we got to talking. I've missed having a man my own age to visit with, since retiring. He loaned me his umbrella, since I had a longer walk to get home than he did." "That was nice of him," his wife said, as she skirted him, and opened the refrigerator door, absently smiling, as she returned to preparing a meal. "I'm making a meal for a woman down the hall. Her husband's sick, and she hasn't had time to make anything decent. I'll be heading over to help her out for a few hours," she explained. "There are some meals in the fridge. Just pop one of them in the microwave." Without another word, she was out the door, carrying the food, she'd prepared, on a tray. * * * Leo prepared himself dinner, and ate in silence. Normally, the view from the dining room window was distracting; but, with the storm, the surrounding buildings were transformed into mere shadows; the ground, far below, was invisible. 'I'm glad I didn't wait any longer to head home,' he thought, as he placed his dirty dishes in the dishwasher. "On the other hand, if I had, I might have been forced to spend the night at Nelson's." He frowned, as he tidied the kitchen and dining room, and began to aimlessly wander around the apartment, as if he were a cat patrolling his territory. 'Does that mean I'm seriously considering the possibility of getting . . . closer to him?' He softly snorted an unamused laugh, as he realized he followed the same path on every evening's walk through the apartment. 'I'm in more ruts than one, it would seem.' During his next circuit, he surveyed everything to make sure the only sign of his presence were the footprints on the carpet, then headed to his bedroom and closed the door behind him. The large window drew him to it, where he stared into the swirling snow, lost in thought. When an especially strong gust of arctic wind buffeted the building, he shivered and began to strip, carefully hanging his clothes and placing them in their proper position in the closet. As an act of rebellion, he slipped out of his underwear and tossed them into the corner, then climbed into the bed and lay down, pulling the blankets over him. 'For the past twenty years, or more, I've not felt the absence of another person in my bed. Why do I feel that absence now?' He closed his eyes, as sleep claimed him, and he dreamt, not of a person, or of a particular act, but of the warmth of a person's naked body pressed close, as they hugged. He imagined the strength of the person's arms, the erotic feel of someone's tongue in his mouth . . . and . . . strangely . . . the sensation of another man's erection pressed against his, as they held one another close. The sensuous thrill, which shot through his body, centered on his groin, was strong enough to awaken him. The touch of another man's naked body, pressed close to his own, and his involuntary reaction to that touch, was, at first, disturbing; then, a moment later . . . intensely exciting. 'The touch was so different from anything I've experienced,' he thought, as he turned over and cuddled the pillow, imagining cuddling up to Nelson's naked back. 'Could I kiss a man?' he asked himself. 'More to the point, could I kiss Nelson? What would it mean if I did? Would it mean I'm suddenly gay? How would my life change . . . or my perception of myself? What would my children think of me? What would I think of myself? Am I willing to find out the answer to all these questions, just for a hug . . . and a kiss, or to feel someone's skin against my own, to be listened to, to laugh, to touch, or feel a person's warmth as we hold one another? 'What could the outcome of a kiss and a hug be? I wouldn't be satisfied with only one, every now and then. I would easily become addicted to them, much like . . . oxygen. I already feel . . . withdrawal pains, and he's only hugged me twice! 'I thought I was too old to even think of any sort of change in my situation. Now, after meeting Nelson, I'm not so sure. 'I'm going back to the park tomorrow, and, if he asks, I'm going to go home with him. I don't know what that step will lead to, but I'm more than willing to find out. He as much as invited me to go with him today. Could he have been teasing me . . . playing with my emotions?' Leo thought back to the look on Nelson's face as they parted from that first . . . wonderful . . . hug. 'He was as moved by that contact as I. He wasn't teasing. 'Ohhhh it was so wonderful to feel his warm breath against my neck as he held me. I never imagined the strength of another person's arms around me could mean so much. 'I wonder what kissing a man would be like? What would it be like to be naked with another man . . . to hold one another, naked, and erect? Could I do more than hold and kiss him? I don't know what to do! What if I do something wrong? Could I even remain erect?' Leo grinned. 'Hell, it's been so long since I've done anything with anyone, I almost qualify as a virgin.' He sobered. 'I can't let fear of losing an erection stop me from . . . whatever. I've been given a chance to change things. Am I strong enough to grab at that opportunity? 'Could I end my marriage? No matter how much I moan and groan about our relationship, I do still love Julie, and I would like to believe she still loves me. There is a difference, though, between love, and being in love. 'At what point does life stop being something we do, out of obligation, trying in vain to keep promises made more than a quarter century ago, and become something we do for the pure pleasure of doing? Is a man what I'm seeking? Would I be trading one form of . . . rut . . . for another? Is it possible to only be friends? Is that what I want? Is that enough? What does the feeling of warmth, love, and comfort, which I felt in his touch, mean? He's a man! 'Should that matter? Should I believe I can only find happiness with another woman, or . . . perish the thought, by myself? 'I don't need anyone to provide sexual satisfaction. I can do that with my hand. My hand, though, can never provide emotional satisfaction. I desperately want someone to care . . . deeply . . . for me, just as I need to care . . . deeply . . . for someone. Could Nelson be such a person? 'What do all these questions mean? Is my rut too comfortable? Am I afraid of what becoming Nelson's friend might mean? Am I afraid of . . . loving a man?' * * * 'Well,' Nelson thought, as he stood in front of his apartment's living room window and looked out onto the snow-blanketed city. 'I might as well not have gone to bed last night. Trying to sleep was a fruitless endeavor.' He leaned his head against the cold window. 'I wonder if Leo braved both the snow and wind to come to the park bench . . . where I promised to meet him.' An especially strong gust of wind slammed into the building, causing the large window to shudder. "Was that your way of telling me I'm being a fool?" he asked the photograph of the man who'd been his lover for thirty-five years. "Did you send Leo to me? It'd be just like you to pull some strings, or raise such a stink that . . . someone . . . finally gave in . . . just to keep you from complaining." Nelson shook his head. "You always did find a way to get what you wanted, didn't you?" He turned away from the window. 'Why should I attribute meeting Leo to supernatural interference? Why can't it be just plain luck? After all,' he thought, glancing toward the photograph of his partner, 'luck was the reason I met you. What's to keep luck from striking twice? 'I've mourned you, these past two years,' Nelson thought. 'I will mourn you until the moment I take my last breath; but is that all that's left of life? When you died, something of me died with you, but something also continued living. Should I deny life, to keep my memories of you alive? You should know by now, that nothing . . . no one . . . will ever supplant you. After yesterday, I believe I can love again; but, if that should happen, it wouldn't mean I love you less. It only means my heart is big enough to love two men. 'I am lonely, Stewart.' His gaze returned to the wind driven snow. 'At least, after meeting Leo, I know that I'm not dead, from the neck down. The tingle of pleasure I got when we hugged was something I've not felt since the last time I hugged you.' He smiled. 'You know what I mean. This wasn't an 'I'm-about-to-shoot' kind of tingle. It was something more . . . something deeper.' Nelson wandered into the kitchen, and was halfway through preparing a pot of coffee, when he was struck by a thought. 'Surely, he wouldn't be standing at the park bench, a forlorn figure in the snow; but maybe . . . he might have returned to the coffee shop!' Nelson abandoned the coffeemaker. He threw on a heavy coat, wrapped a woolen scarf around his neck and tugged on a hat, ready to brave the weather, then stepped out of his apartment and impatiently pressed the elevator call button. He nodded a distracted good morning greeting to the elevator's occupants, brave souls, all, steeling themselves to face the blizzard. The wind was like a live thing, intent on forcing him back into the warmth of his apartment. 'You're not going to win, damn you,' he thought, as he crossed the largely abandoned sidewalk and street, pressing forward, head down. 'Well, Stewart,' he mentally grumbled, to his dead partner. 'If you did send Leo in my direction, I should not be surprised you would also send a frigging blizzard to accompany your gift. You always were ornery.' He couldn't help but chuckle. 'Here I am, assuming you've worked your way up the chain of command and are now standing at the Almighty's right hand, dispensing tidbits of wisdom. Ha! What a thought! CEO, or nothing, right?' He stepped into the coffee shop's vestibule, pushing the door closed behind him, shutting out the snow and howl of the wind . . . then turned, and stopped. 'He's here,' Nelson thought. 'It was the right thing to do, to check.' Due to the terrible weather, Leo was one of the few people in the coffee shop. Nelson watched as he shook his head at the waitress, who hovered nearby with a coffee pot in hand, then bowed his head, returning to his thoughts. "Only crazy people would venture out on a day like this," Nelson said, pausing behind the seated man, and resting a hand on his shoulder. The look Leo turned on him could have lit the room, and was almost embarrassing in its intensity. It was as if the sun had broken through the clouds. "Nelson!" he cried. He stood up, and unselfconsciously hugged his friend, then gestured him to have a seat. "I brought some food for Dolly, and her admirers, he said, holding up a battered paper bag, but, what with the wind, they were nowhere to be found." He frowned. "Do you think they'll be okay?" Nelson laughed. "I shouldn't worry about them. Pigeons are better at surviving storms, such as this, than either you or I. Tell me . . . please . . . that you didn't stand out there, waiting for me to join you." Leo grinned. "Only for a minute or two. By the time I arrived at the park bench, I was half-frozen. I took one quick look around, kicked at a snowbank, wondering if you might be buried beneath, then decided to head over here and have a cup of coffee. I've only been here a short while. "You can ask Shirley, our waitress. Don't ask about her great grandchildren, though. She has . . . pictures. Lots of pictures. It'd probably be best not to ask about her sister, Laverne, or brother, Harold, either. She doesn't have pictures of them, but she does have stories to tell! Same with the grandkids, and the dog, oh . . . and Laverne's cockatoo." He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "I had to think for a moment before I recalled what a cockatoo is. For the life of me, I thought she claimed her sister, Laverne, had a cock, too." He smiled brightly. "Shows what I've been thinking about, doesn't it?" "And, you learned all of this in just the short while since you've been here?" Leo grinned. "She's a fast talker, and I'm a good listener. She, however, is one of those people whom one does not ask how they're feeling, for fear of getting an organ recital." Nelson threw his head back and laughed, then nodded his thanks, as the waitress set a menu and cup of coffee before him. "Your friend, Leo, here's a big eater," she told Nelson, standing at Leo's side. "He's had two breakfasts, already! Want anything more sweet'ums?" Leo blushed. "No, I've finally gotten what I wanted." "Well," she pushed off. "If y'all need anything, just holler. I'm here to serve." "Two breakfasts?" Nelson murmured, looking at Leo over the rim of his coffee cup." Leo shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Sweet'ums?" Nelson probed. "Now, don't you start calling me that, too!" Leo chuckled. Nelson laughed. "I love it! Handsome, and a sense of humor, too." Leo quickly looked over his shoulder. "Who're you talking about? Surely, not Shirley. I admit, she is a nice looking woman, and she does have a sense of humor, but . . . handsome?" "If you hang around long enough, she might invite you to accompany her home," Nelson grinned. He studied Leo's pale brown eyes and dark lashes, and wondered how he was able to keep his hair so . . . perfect, considering the wind, and hat, resting on the seat cushion at his side. The brown eyes sparkled. "Perhaps . . . but I was sort'a hoping someone else might take pity on me and ask me home, before she does. I mean, Shirley's nice n'all, but I'd feel funny going home with someone I just met. "Now . . ." he grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling with suppressed laughter. "Now," he repeated, "If someone I've met . . . for the second time . . . asked me to go home with him, I would, of course, agree. I'd have no trouble with that." "And, what would your . . . conscience . . . back home, think, if you didn't come home?" "Oh, I have to go back . . . eventually. If she needs me, desperately, she has my phone number." Leo smiled, then sobered. "Actually, I've done almost nothing but think of you, and our parting hug, since yesterday. My . . . conscience . . . even commented on me trying to hum a tune. So . . . to save her and her dog from howling, I decided to hum quietly, dreaming of how good it felt to be be held by you." Another twinkle of his eyes. "She actually doesn't have a dog, but . . . one wouldn't know it, what with all the carrying on." He playfully frowned. "I never knew a woman could make such terrible sounds." "You'd be going home with a gay man," Nelson murmured, watching for a reaction. "Yes. I've considered that. I've thought of many things, since we last parted." "Yet you still showed up . . . here . . . and ate two breakfasts, hoping I would make an appearance." Nelson's brows lowered. "Just how many breakfasts were you prepared to eat?" "As many as it took, until you showed up." Nelson swallowed. "Leo, that was one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me. Thank you." "Ummmm. You're teasing me . . . right? I mean, I'm full of sweet. You ain't seen nothing, yet; but that didn't qualify, in my book." "Oh?" "Um, that is . . . if you give me a chance . . . um . . . to show you what does . . . I will, or at least, hope to." His eyes danced. "And, if you save me from ordering a third breakfast, and invite me home, so I won't have to wander hither and yon in the raging storm, most likely to be found frozen stiff as a board, nothing more than a footnote in a feature-length story in the morning newspaper." He looked puzzled. "Where was I?" "Me saving you from your third breakfast." "Oh . . . yes. Thank you. For a moment there, I thought I might be having a Senior Moment." "Third breakfast . . ." Nelson prompted. "No, only two. Oh . . ." Leo looked at Nelson with a lost puppy dog expression. "Would you take me home with you? I'll be good. I promise to not make a mess on the rug. You don't have to take me for a walk, and, since I've eaten already, you don't need to feed me." When Nelson realized Leo was not joking, he moistened his lips, and asked. "So, what is it I do need to do?" "Hold me?" * * * "So . . ." Shirley, the waitress said, turning to Nelson, as the two men prepared to leave. "I'm glad you're taking our handsome friend home. I was afraid he was either gonna burst from eating so much, or, worse yet, would go out in that weather only to head back to wherever it was he came from. I was hoping that wasn't t'case, since he never once smiled, 'til you showed up. It was just like he's been waiting for you for longer than it took to eat those two breakfasts." "Very perceptive, Shirley," Leo responded, as Nelson looked on. "You should be a psychologist." The woman made a vague gesture. "Oh, sometimes I'm a psychologist; other times I'm a shoulder to cry on, or a comedienne, trying to get people to laugh with outrageous stories about my family. I'm a little bit of whatever a customer needs me to be." She smiled brightly, turning from Nelson to Leo. "Now, Handsome, you've got whatever it is you need; so you boys take care of yourselves y'hear? And, most important, cover up on your way home. You don't want to freeze something . . . essential . . . now, do you?" She waved, as the two men walked past the window, then glanced at the table they'd just left, and the fifty-dollar tip. ~ the end ~
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