Hound Dog & Bean (28 page)

Bean blushed all the more. “Well… I did.”

H.D.’s mouth dropped open. “You’re shitting me.”

Bean shook his head. “Nope.”

H.D. was amazed. “You didn’t tell me you were an artist!”

“Well, I don’t know that I’m an
artist
….”

“But you
are!
Those paintings are incredible!”

“Aww…. Not incredible….”

“But they are! Have you done anything else?”

Bean was really blushing furiously now, looking around and hoping no one was listening. “You know the landscape in the hallway upstairs?”

H.D. nodded. Then: “The one with the big tree and all those branches?”

Bean nodded again.

“Wait! You’re telling me you did that too? Wow! I
love
that picture. Do you know how many times I’ve stared at it and pretended I could walk right into it and have a picnic under that tree?” H.D. leaned in and whispered. “Maybe even make love to you?”

Bean smiled slowly. “Sounds nice.”

“The most I can draw is graffiti. I’m pretty good at drawing big dicks.” He giggled. “As a matter of fact,
I
had my first showing just recently.”

“On a bathroom wall?” Bean asked, joining H.D. in his laughter.

“In a way. But it was on a stage. There was this play at The Pegasus….”

“
Tearoom Tango
?” It was Bean’s turn to be surprised.

“That’s the one.”

“I
saw
that play! It was incredible.”

“I helped with the graffiti that was all over the bathroom walls.”

Bean’s head fell back as he roared with laughter. “I laaahhhh….” His head swiveled back forward. He’d almost said “I love
you” but caught himself at the last second. “I mean I love
it
. I love the fact that you helped with the sets.”

“I just can’t believe you never told me you were an artist,” H.D. said with a pout.

“We have lots of things to tell each other, don’t we?” Bean responded.

“I guess we do.” Then after a long pause, H.D. turned to Bean and winked. “All the better for me to stick around a while longer.”

Longer was just the word Bean was hoping for.

I
T
TURNED
out H.D. had never gone to see the play for which he’d helped with the sets. “I had a comp ticket, but I’d seen it in rehearsals. I didn’t see any reason to go.”

“Oh, H.D! Rehearsals and the real thing aren’t the same. Plays can be magic! Have you ever seen a play?” Bean asked.

H.D. gave a shrug. “Not really.”

“Well, damn.” That was just crazy! “If you don’t mind, I’ve got to rectify that.”

H.D. shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat.”

“Seriously. I’d like to take you. Will you go with me? Would you be interested?”

H.D. gave another shrug. “Why not?” Then he raised an eyebrow and settled his weight on one hip. “Or don’t you think I have the sensibilities to enjoy a play? I saw
Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat
at Starlight once. I dug that.”

“Well, what I was thinking of taking you to isn’t quite like that. It’s a lot more—”

H.D. shifted his weight to the other hip. “—intellectual? Don’t you think I’m
smart
enough to enjoy—”

“Stop!” cried Bean. “I surrender.” Had he implied he didn’t consider Hill to be intelligent? “Do you want to go or not?”

H.D. rolled his eyes. “Gaaawwwd! I—will—go—to—a—play with you!”

So nervously, Bean took H.D. to The Pegasus theatre to see
My Name is Asher Lev
.

It was no
Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat
.

It was based on the book by Chaim Potok and told the powerful story of a young man—an artistic prodigy—who
needed
to be an artist at any cost, even though it went against his religion and his family and his community and tradition. There was no intermission and no chance to take a breather, and all Bean could do was be hit with wave after emotional wave of the story. It was luminous. Bean could hardly breathe. It was easy to identify with the story even though he wasn't Jewish, and even though he wasn't a Hasidic Jew—a very conservative denomination of Judaism. The story reached across barriers, across religions, across time and space.

When the lights came up, Bean turned to H.D. and was amazed to see his lover had been crying. H.D.’s face was wet with tears. He looked at Bean with those topaz-blue eyes and they seemed as deep as an ocean. He opened his mouth to say something, and a choking noise was all that came out.

They rose and went to the lobby, where H.D. stopped him and excused himself with a nod. He disappeared into the men’s room and came back a few moments later just as the young actor who had played Asher Lev came out to talk to what was obviously family and friends. To Bean’s astonishment, H.D. went to the man, opened his mouth, and once again, no words came out. A sob escaped his throat, and to Bean’s wonder, the young man swept H.D. into his arms and rocked him.

“Thank you,” Bean heard the actor say. A few seconds later, the two men parted, “Asher” nodded, and H.D. turned away. He came to Bean and took him by the hand and they left the theater without a word.

H.D. made love with a desperate passion that night. Afterward, as they lay in the dark, H.D. brought up the play. “I—I tried to tell the actor…. I tried to tell him how much I liked the play, but I couldn’t talk. Dean, I tried. My throat…. It kept locking up. I wanted him to know how much he moved me. His sadness. How I understood the rejection….” Hill’s voice came to a shuddering stop.

Bean turned on his side and laid a hand on H.D.’s chest. He didn’t say a word. He decided the best thing to do was just be there.

“There was so much going on…. So much pain but so much joy. God, Dean. I wish I could find the words.”

“I understand,” Bean replied. He was afraid to say anything else. The play had moved H.D. deeply. Churned up emotions he’d never seen in H.D. Bean was more than moved himself to see that H.D. was capable of all kinds of feelings. It gave him hope. And it worried him just the slightest bit that H.D. would never be able to feel such things for him. That the power of the play had cut through H.D.’s walls in a way Bean never would.

Bean fell hopelessly in love with H.D. that night.

After that Bean decided to bring things down a level or two and took H.D. to some movies. H.D. hadn’t seen anything in a theater except for Peter Jackson’s
The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug
in a year (and that was only because he loved the
Lord of the Rings
movies). So Bean took H.D. to
Saving Mr. Banks
and they had a grand time, and H.D. insisted on buying a huge bucket of buttered popcorn and a large Coke. They shared them and let their fingers interweave when they reached into the bucket. Bean felt like he was in high school and could only hope that there was even a possibility H.D. felt the same way.

Hill was making him feel all kinds of things, the chief among them a freedom he’d never known. It was like Lady Gaga’s music. The way he felt when he listened to her songs. Like he could do anything. Hill helped him let loose, do things he thought he would never be able to do.

I
T
WAS
H.D.’s idea that they go camping.

“It’s about an hour drive away,” H.D. explained. “Past Tonganoxie. It’s called Camp Sanctuary. I love it. Very cool place. I’d go more often, but it’s quite a bike ride. It’s not like I’m not used to biking—I’ve ridden over half the country—but if I am going to ride all that way, I like to stay the night. I have this little tent that’s
just
big enough for me. We both might be able to squeeze in there, though.” He waggled his eyebrows at Bean, an affectation that was pure Hound Dog. If Bean had a dollar for every time he’d seen H.D. bob those brows, he’d have a mortgage payment. And he’d known H.D. for—what? A month now?

Bean knew that was right because H.D. was actually the one to bring it up. “We can celebrate by going to camp!” He was excited as a puppy.

“Celebrate?” asked Bean.

“Yeah! That we’ve know each other a month.”

Our anniversary?
Bean almost asked, then bit back the words before he could say them. He knew he better be careful how he handled this one…. What would Elaine think of this? Hell! He didn’t know what to think about it!

“Wow.” H.D. sighed happily. “Can you believe it? A month! Does it seem like a month to you?”

No. It didn’t seem like a month. Not to Bean. The time had flown by, and he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have Hill in his life. But what did Hill mean by the comment? That the time had flown by for him as well? Or that it had been too long?

“We’ll be able to go
skinny
-dipping!” Grin. Bob-bob-bob went those brows.

“Skinny-dipping?” Bean asked.

“Yep-a-rooney. In the
broad
daylight!” H.D.’s smile grew to Cheshire dimensions.

“There’s a place around Kansas City where you can go skinny-dipping?” That was a surprise.

“Yup! A lot of pagans hang out there. Celebrating the Goddess in their skyclad goodness.”

“Pagans?” Bean wondered aloud.

“You know. Goddess worshipers and all that. Witches.”

“Witches.” Isn’t that what H.D. said about the old lady he’d lived with? What was her name? “Ezzie?” he said aloud, without thinking about it.

Up went those eyebrows—this time in surprise? “Yeah. Kinda. Although I never saw her runnin’ around naked. Don’t know if I would have been ready for that. Today? Who knows? Whatever floats a person’s boat and all that. But you like bein’ nekkid out on your deck.” He scooted close to Bean, practically snuggling. “I thought it would be kinda neat walking around with you naked in the sunshine. Maybe… maybe holding hands even? Showin’ you off?”

Bean’s heart began to pound, and he had to fight to keep tears from forming in his eyes. This was big, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it? Was he making something bigger than it really was? “That sounds nice,” he managed, controlling his voice.

So they went. They left Sarah Jane and Rammstein with Aunt Elaine. They had no idea how the dogs would act in the wild, and since this was their first time away together, looking out for dogs all weekend might be a mistake.

Bean drove them in his smart car—another reason not to take the dogs—it was more spacious than people realized, but two dogs would have been a handful. He even stopped by Walmart on the way to pick up a tent. Not that Bean minded curling up in a tiny space with Hill. But he wanted enough room to be able to make love properly. And he planned on making love with this man. What could be better than making love to the man you loved in the great outdoors? They made sure the tent wasn’t
too
big. The idea of curling up in a nest together was too much for Bean to forego. But he also wanted room for the cooler inside, out of the sun. And they had to have food, especially if they were going to stay more than the day.

They headed out on a Friday after work, and although Sanctuary wasn’t that far away, the winding country roads after they got out of the city made it seem that way. The final mile or so was on an incredibly dusty gravel road, and the car kicked up a plume of powdery white dirt that swirled behind them like smoke. Then they turned off on a small side road—if H.D. hadn’t known where it was, Bean might have missed it. The turnoff wasn’t all that unlike the one they’d made when going to the puppy mill, but where that one had been sort of ominous, this one had an almost magical feeling. It was less overgrown, and as they traveled down the tunnel created by the canopy of the trees, it was like they were traveling from the real world to some fantasy “other” world. When they came out of the trees, Bean had to stop and stare. It reminded him of a scene from a Peter Jackson movie.

The road wound up ahead of them through a green hilly area and then climbed upward into another growth of trees. To the right was an earthen dam, covered in sunflowers that looked to be the home of about a billion butterflies. But it was the sight to the left that blew him away. There was a small field, a large clearing really, and from the middle of it grew one of the largest trees he had ever seen. It must have been seventy to eighty feet tall, and he doubted that if he and H.D. both went and pressed themselves against its bark and reached around, their fingertips would touch.

“That’s Yggdrasil,” said H.D.

“Yeags-what?”

“Oh, come on!” H.D. dropped his chin on Bean’s shoulder and looked at the mighty tree with him. “You know all about Kardan or Kasgill the goat boy, but you don’t know Yggdrasil?”

“It’s Kaldi.”

“And it's
Ig-drah-sill
. From Norse mythology, you know? Like Thor and all them? Yggdrasil was the world tree, and its branches supported the universe and its roots went all the way down into Hell.”

“How do you know this stuff?” It was kind of surprising. Not that H.D. was stupid or anything. He was smart. Really smart. But as far as Bean had been able to piece together, H.D. hadn't finished high school.

“Ezzie taught me. She liked that shit. She was the one that taught me about herbs.”

Bean turned and they were nose to nose. He kissed that big Roman nose. It was herbs just as much as a punch that had brought them together. “Thank God for Ezzie,” he said.

H.D. gave him a peculiar look and then shrugged. Then he got one of his grins. “Pull over. Let’s go meet him.”

“Who?'

“Yggdrasil. Come on.”

“Shouldn't we set up first? It's going to be dark soon.”

“Real soon,” H.D. said. “But this will only take a minute.” He climbed out of the car, took off his hat—it was the burgundy one Bean liked so much—shrugged out of his shirt, threw it on the seat. “Come on!” He motioned to Bean and dashed off through the grass.

Now what's he up to?
Bean got out of the car and followed H.D., who was already closing in on the giant tree. Just as H.D. arrived, he gave Bean a look from over his shoulders, and then quick as a flash, shucked his shorts and was bare assed to the world. Or at least to Camp Sanctuary! And oh, what a perfect ass. So high and tiny and round, except for those deep indents in either cheek. There had to be a God because Something must have sculpted that man.