Sleeping in his guest room lacks the intimacy I crave, but at least I'm here in the morning to wake him, even if he doesn't wish to get out of bed. I know he needs time to heal, and motivation to live again ... my task today; find that motivation.
Denny told me to stay as long as I need, which I fully intend to do. To make myself more 'at home' I've gone out and purchased a few prints for the guest room. I'm not sure if he likes them, or if he's completely shocked by them ... I frequently find him staring at them.
The other morning as I woke, he was sitting in the chair in the corner, glowering at one in particular. When I asked what he was thinking, he looked at me blankly for a moment, and then asked, "Is that two men in a tub?"***
(*** author's note -- I have a friend, who has a painting by a Boston area artist who's 'signature' feature of her paintings is that she never paints her subjects with hair. The painting he has is of a 'man and a woman, in a tub, looking into the sunset' ... it is called "Twilight". The reaction everyone has of this painting is, "is that two men in a tub" ... for which my friend only smiles, and says, "it's whatever you want it to be." The reason he smiles is that, sans hair, this 'man and woman' look remarkably like him, and his best friend.)
I am finding myself in rather unusual circumstances ... unsure if my station in life is as secure as one would hope, and for the first time, actually caring. I've always been a rebel. More times than not, I've been fired from my job, instead of leaving amicably for a better position or change of location.
And to be honest, I haven't cared. I knew I was good at my job, and would always be able to find another position, in another city. But if I get fired from Crane, Poole & Schmidt, can I live in another city ... without Denny Crane?
Three simple words ... let me help. If only he could. But my anxiety over leaving him should I get fired, and his reaction to my need of him, only seem to make matters worse ... the help I need, he is unable to give, I fear.
But help he has offered, and so we have come to an agreement of sorts ... I will try to be less 'needy' and he will continue to be there for me, even should I find myself fired from C,P&S. I hope that this arrangement relieves my anxiety, for I truly hate this 'word salad' business.
We've made a deal ... I don't show him how much I desperately need him, and he lets me stay. Well, to be honest, he said I could stay no matter what, but he's more comfortable thinking it's because my hotel is under renovation, not that I need him in my life.
I don't know ... perhaps I'm a bit pathetic, needing him this much. After all, I'm a grown man, who has lived alone since my wife died ... and that's been nearly twenty years. But at this time in my life, I find I need his companionship ... if not his love.
I had an appointment in the North End this afternoon, and decided to get us a special treat for dessert. The most deliciously decadent pastries I have ever tasted. The proprietor even recommended a wonderful aperitif to go with them, which I of course bought a bottle of as well. I was able to stop by Denny's place on my way back to the office to drop them off, so he has no idea.
Every night since I moved in, Denny has gone to bed shortly after we've gotten home ... but tonight, I'll be giving him a sweet bedtime surprise.
I looked across the balcony at Denny, and noticed the wide range of emotions fighting for supremacy in his eyes, like thunderclouds rolling in from the sea on a hot August day. I knew my proposition had caught him by surprise, but I didn't expect such an internal debate before he answered.
It was a simple request, after all. To make my move permanent ... become roomies ... a simple yes or no answer would suffice. But apparently, my suggestion was causing him some turmoil. Perhaps concerns over privacy, or my intentions ... which are completely selfless.
One smile ... and Denny said yes.
There are times when I fear that Denny knows me too well. He has saved me time and time again from my own self-destructive nature, for which I am eternally grateful. To show my appreciation, I had planned an intimate dinner for four ... he and I, and two lovely ladies from the secretarial pool.
It was to be a surprise, but somehow, he found out about it ... when I got to the restaurant, I found Denny there waiting for me at a secluded table in the corner, romantically set for two ... champagne on ice, and a smile on his face.
I found myself swept off my feet ... literally. If his intention was to impress me, he succeeded with flying colors. Dinner was superb, followed by a decadently sensual bit of chocolate confection and more champagne.
After our intimate dinner, Denny took me dancing at a very swank mens club, that catered to the gay community. I had no idea that he knew about this club ... and was stunned at how well he fit into the scene. We danced for hours ... and when he finally took me home, I asked why ... and he said he loved me too.
I was speechless.
In the morning, Denny confided in me that he was scared. Not of what we had done, or the intimate turn our relationship had taken, but of his uncertain future. Something new was bothering him ... headaches, to be exact ... and he was scared.
His doctor was obviously concerned, and had set up another cat scan for him on Monday. Like the last time, he wanted me to be there with him ... and of course, I said yes. I never wanted him to have to go through any of this alone, and scolded him for trying to shelter me from it.
It seems as if a lifetime of taking baby steps, cautiously circling around one another to establish the nature of our relationship, has finally paid off, and we're suddenly on the fast track to a loving and happy life together. I find myself constantly amazed at how well Denny's adapting to our new situation ... how he seems to be taking everything in stride.
I wonder ... was he testing my resolve? Could his self-avowed homophobia have been an act to see if I would run at the first sign of adversity ... or continue my pursuit of him, regardless of his actions?
"Whose your daddy?" I heard Denny say as he stood in my office doorway.
I automatically looked up at the sound of his voice, and smiled, saying, "you are, Denny."
"Damned straight," he replied, adding with a wink, "and don't you ever forget it," as he walked away.
I stared at the space where he had stood, and wondered what was up. Just then, a familiar figure filled my doorway, and I felt my heart sink ... Denny was worried, and I could understand why, but he need not fear ... there was no longer any room in my life for Tara.
Tara wanted me -- well, she claimed she wanted my opinion on something -- but I didn't trust her. So I made excuses ... told her I was too busy and passed her off to Brad, who was only too happy to see her again. Moments later, I found myself in Denny's office, asking if he had any pressing business for the next few days.
Seeing that he was free, I made a few calls ... there was a place I knew about up in New Hampshire that would be just right for a weekend getaway ... our own little love shack in the woods.
A secluded cabin in the woods ... the perfect place to escape from the world, spending time in quiet contemplation, and peaceful meditation ... and having some really great kinky sex.
I must admit, the 'kinky' part was not planned, at least not by me, but Denny surprised me once again. He must have kept that little bag of tricks hidden in his suitcase, for I never saw him pack it ... but am I ever grateful that he did.
Ah, the things that man can do with handcuffs, a feather, and a can of whipped cream ... and his tongue ... how amazingly talented!
Denny is insatiable ... but I shouldn't be surprised to learn this. After all, on his wedding day, he not only consummated the marriage, but also shagged a cocktail waitress in the coatroom -- all within three hours of the actual ceremony. Getting caught didn't even slow him down ... it was quite amazing.
Actually, 'amazing' is the perfect word to describe Denny Crane, and the way he makes me feel. The entire weekend was one amazing moment after another, to the point that I don't think I could've taken any more pleasure without losing my mind ... I loved every minute of it!
"Alan," came Denise's voice over the intercom, "I need you in Denny's office, right away." There was something about the calm tone that sent shivers down his spine, causing him to drop everything, and run down the hall. The door was open, as was Denny's custom, and Alan entered ... then stopped in his tracks at what he saw.
Denny, slumped over his desk. "He passed out," Denise said, then added, "I've called 911 already."
"Thank you," Alan managed to say, as he went to Denny's side, taking his hand and whispering reassurances ... unsure if they were for himself, or Denny.
"Of all the stupid ..." Alan started to say, but stopped mid-sentence. Denny was frightened, and rightfully so. The last thing he needed right now was a lecture on overindulgence ... especially since he had already gotten one from the emergency room doctor.
Instead, Alan asked, "What made you take a double dose of Viagra, in the first place?"
"She wanted me," he said, and seeing the disbelieving look on Alan's face, continued, "she did! I could tell ... but I couldn't ..."
He was unable to continue, seeing the look in Alan's eyes as he asked, "Denny, am I not enough for you?"
Following doctors orders, Denny was to refrain from strenuous activity for a few days ... including sex. More importantly, he was to stop the use of enhancement drugs for a period of time ... possibly forever. Needless to say, Denny wasn't pleased with these restrictions.
That night, when Alan caught him trying to pleasure himself, he scolded him, prompting Denny to reply, "You're not my mother."
"No, I'm your lover," Alan retorted, "and I don't want to lose you."
To which Denny said, "Even if I can't get it up?"
"Denny," Alan said with a kiss,"there's more to love than sex."
Promises, promises ... Alan was always making promises. But Denny found it hard to believe them. After all, Alan was a young man who could pick and choose whomever he wished to be in a relationship with. Why would he continue to stick around someone like Denny Crane ... an old, worn out man whose body was betraying him, and whose mind was failing by degrees.
Denny tried to picture his life without Alan in it ... and started to weep. Little as he wished to admit it, he needed Alan as much as Alan needed him. If only he could tell him.
Alan and Denny lay back in the afterglow of lovemaking ... Denny on his back, with Alan curled up beside him, his head on Denny's chest and his arm across his ample belly. Alan sighed, as he snuggled closer, Denny's heartbeat pounding in his ear.
Once or twice, he thought Denny was going to speak, and finally, Alan raised up on his elbow, and looked Denny in the eye as he asked, "What is it?"
There was a tremor in Denny's voice, as he said, "I love you," then pulled him close, and closed his eyes. Alan smiled, and did likewise.
Alan was making breakfast when Denny asked, "Do you love me ... really love me?"
"Of course I do, Denny," Alan replied, as he finished cooking the scrambled eggs, and scooped them onto their plates. He added toast, then set the plates on the table as he said, "You seem skeptical ... why?"
Denny shrugged, shook his head, and scooped up a fork-ful of eggs without answering. Alan stared, waiting for Denny's reply, which was not forthcoming. After a few minutes, Denny sipped his coffee, then said, "*Why* do you love me, Alan?"
"To be honest," Alan said, "I have no idea."
Sometimes, the look Alan gave Denny reminded him of a puppy ... one that knew he had done something wrong, but desperately needed acceptance and forgiveness, no matter what. This was one of those times.
Denny had gone to his office, to berate him yet again for taking on an 'un-American' case, when Alan smiled at him with these sad blue eyes. "How could you?" Denny asked softly, all desire to yell at him over his choice lost in that look.
"You know I had no choice," Alan said, "justice must be served. I know you understand."
"Yes, sadly I do."
A knock on his door, and Alan looked up ... Tara stood there, smiling at him, and he froze. What did she want now, he thought, but before he was able to ask, she said, "I hear you and Denny are playing house these days."
He noted the bitterness in her tone; he smiled as he replied, "We're hardly playing, Tara. Denny loves me, and I him." He heard a small snort of disbelief from her, and he added, "Be happy for us."
"Well, at least now," she said with a sad smile, "I know why you couldn't commit to me."
"How dare she!" Denny said, as Alan puffed his cigar, and told him about Tara's visit to his office. Denny knew perfectly well that she was the one who had had commitment problems; she was the one who had walked out of that relationship, and left Alan alone and in pain.
"Denny," Alan said in a soothing tone, "please, forget about it ... I have."
"But," Denny started, then sputtering in rage, tried to find the right words, before he repeated, "how dare she!"
"She dares, because it makes her feel better to re-write the truth," Alan said, "so be it."
Denny looked up as Alan walked into the bedroom and asked, "What's that?"
"Dessert," Alan said, and placed a small tray on the bedside table, kicked off his slippers and slid out of his robe. Denny smiled as the naked Alan pulled back the covers, and sat on the edge of the bed.
The bed shifted as Denny rolled onto his elbow, trying to look over Alan's shoulder as he asked, "Dessert?"
"Yes, I know how much you like chocolate," Alan said, as he picked up a jar of chocolate sauce, lay back on the bed, and began to pour.
~the end