Chapter 29

* * * *

The next few weeks were wonderful, yet awkward at the same time. Julian loved his classes. His students were great. He discovered he liked middle-schoolers as much as he did the older high school students. He enjoyed establishing friendships and working with his colleagues.

Mary was impressed and pleased with Tate’s progress. He had mastered the use of his prosthetic leg to the point that his gait looked almost completely normal. He had even begun jogging, and had encouraged Julian to accompany him, saying, “It’s not only healthy, it gives us a chance to be alone.”

Julian was easily convinced.

Mrs. Butler was over the moon with the transformation in her son. She gave Julian all the credit, telling him he was a miracle worker and Tate’s savior. Her gratitude had translated into regular invitations to dinner, and to spend evenings with her and Tate playing cards, or watching television. While this gave opportunities for Tate and Julian to be together, it was also difficult, as they couldn’t relate to each other as they wanted. Julian could see Tate was trying hard not to let his real feelings for Julian show in front of his mother. The result was often strained, unnatural interactions.

There were times, however, when Mrs. Butler would retire early, saying she needed extra rest. That did give the two men the opportunity to be together as they so deeply desired. They would slip over to the carriage house and make love. Julian could tell, though, that Tate wasn’t relaxed. Julian knew Tate was worrying that his mother might awaken and find his bed empty. Julian tried his best to be supportive and not pressure Tate in any way, but he longed to be able to relate to Tate in a way that honestly reflected how they felt about each other..

On a simpler level, just to be able to sleep with Tate all night, holding the man and not having to watch him sneak across to the big house after making love, would have given Julian great joy

For her part, Mrs. Butler did encourage Tate and Julian to get out of the house and have a good time. “You’re young and need to have more than evenings cooped up with an old woman,” she would say.

While Tate accepted these suggestions, he usually invited his mother to come along, saying he felt she needed to get out herself. Only occasionally did she agree to accompany them.

When the pair did go out alone, they carefully avoided Gilby’s, Sidetracks, or any other gay establishment where they might run into Stephen, Craig, or any of the other men who’d been at the party. This suited Julian just fine.

They occasionally ended their evenings out by getting a motel room. Although Tate always felt they needed to go home and not spend the whole night. During their motel stays Tate was more himself—more responsive. Julian supposed Tate was feeling free from fear of chance discovery.

However, it was in these situations that Julian’s response was diminished. Having been out most of his adult life, he felt restrained by having to resort to this type of secretiveness. Again, he deferred to Tate’s needs.

The only times both men were totally relaxed, comfortable, and free, were Sunday mornings. Mrs. Butler spent the entire morning at church nearly every week teaching Bible study, going to services, and organizing the post-service coffee hour. Tate would come to the cottage and Julian would make them breakfast. They would laugh, talk, play with Patch, and make love.

This is how it should be, Julian would think. Two men in love, free to be who we are, and live our lives out in the open.

However, as twelve o’clock noon approached, Tate would sigh and say he’d better get back to the big house, as his mother would be home soon. Julian would kiss him at the door and watch him walk back across the pebbled drive, wishing with all his heart it could be different, but knowing he was powerless to change their situation. As with so many things in their journey so far, if it was to change, it would have to come from Tate. It was the only way.

One Sunday morning in mid-October Julian was in his kitchen. Dressed only in his pajama bottoms, he expected Tate to arrive soon. He hoped this would be one of the times Tate would wear his Marine fatigues. Julian found this to be especially provocative. He hummed happily as he got ready to make breakfast. Patch rubbed against his legs, mewing softly.

“Sweet talk will get you nowhere, my girl,” Julian said as he reached down and scooped her up. “You’ve already had your breakfast. But if you can be patient enough to wait for Daddy Tate, I’m pretty sure he’ll sneak you a bit of ham.”

He nuzzled the cat and let her drop lightly to the floor, where she took up her pleading for a handout.