Page 53 of Blue Umbrella Sky
And she was gone. Billy watched her drive away in her little green-and-white electric Smart car and found the thing he’d found the very first time he’d stepped into a meeting:hope.
Chapter 19
THERE WASsomething different the next time Milt saw Billy. It wasn’t anything extraordinary. In fact, what made it special was its very ordinariness.
A couple of days after Dane had gone back home to Ohio and the acute pain and joy of his visit had quieted to something gentle yet throbbing, like an old scar, Billy simply showed up on his doorstep early one morning.
Milt had just taken Ruby out for a long walk, all the way around the perimeter of the park, which was about three miles all told. The weather forecast for that day predicted unseasonable heat for late winter, with late-afternoon temperatures soaring up to the low nineties, so Milt thought getting Ruby’s major walk out of the way early was not only a good idea but a vital one. The walk was perfection—they started off just as the sun was coming up, with the sky on fire with color—pink, lavender, tangerine. A gilded band winked on the horizon. There was a gentle breeze, almost a whisper of air with just a hint of chill to it. There was quiet, blessed peaceful quiet.
Milt had a feeling, in this serenity, that circumstances in his life had done a one-eighty. Taking in the silhouetted palms and the mystical soaring mountain ranges gave him a sense of contentment he hadn’t allowed himself to experience—until today.
At home, he was deciding what to do about breakfast when the kitchen door swung open. Billy poked his head in the doorway. “I know, I know. I should knock, but we’re old buddies, right? Open-door policy among friends?”
Milt, at the sink, shook his head in mock dismay, pretending to be appalled at Billy’s social graces. “Seriously? You just swing the door open? I could have been in here naked, jacking off or something.” He chuckled.
“Well, isn’t that a pretty picture!” Billy laughed. “If you’re trying to discourage me from barging in, you’re taking the wrong approach.” He hesitated there in the open doorway. “Um,canI barge in?”
“You’re already halfway there, you big doofus. Get in here.”
And Billy did. Milt looked him over from head to toe. Internally, he gave a low whistle. Billy had something in common with the mountain ranges surrounding the valley, in that Milt never grew tired of the majesty of the view. He always appreciated it.
He suddenly realized he always appreciated Billy too, and the pleasure he found, if he let himself, in simply gazing at him. Today his tan skin and blond hair had a glow about them. The white shorts and sky-blue tank top emphasized his luminance, making his eyes look even bluer. It wasn’t a new thought, but one Milt had had over and over. Billy was a beautiful man. The difference was that this morning, for the first time, Milt allowed himself the feeling.
He appreciated and admired without guilt, minus a nagging sense of betrayal.
He felt liberated.
Yet aside from how Milt felt, he sensed something different about Billy too. There was a quality Milt couldn’t quite put his finger on. Perhaps it was a sense of ease, of joy, of being comfortable in his own skin that hadn’t always been there. Or if it had, Milt hadn’t witnessed it.
Whatever was going on, there was a new comfort with the two of them being together on an ordinary day in Milt’s kitchen. Even Ruby seemed more at ease, not jumping on Billy for once but calmly regarding him from her bed in the corner of the living room. It was almost as though Billy belonged here. It was like Ruby felt Billy washome.
Milt washed his hands and then dried them on a dish towel. He turned to Billy. “You come scrounging around for breakfast?”
“Hey! That’s not nice.”
Milt chuckled. “Well, the timing is right.”
“What did you have in mind?” Billy’s gaze roamed the counter, the range. They were both empty.
“We could go out,” Milt suggested. “Elmer’s on Palm Canyon? I like their omelets.”
Billy moved close. “I don’t want to go out.”
Milt edged closer. “I don’t either. Not really.” He smiled. “And anyway, I need to get to Trader Joe’s.” He turned to open his refrigerator. It was embarrassingly bare. “All out of eggs.” He shrugged, slammed shut the refrigerator. “Scrambled eggs are about all I do for breakfast.” He had a flash of an orange Fiesta plate with a stack of banana pecan pancakes on it. They were Corky’s specialty and were always light, fluffy, and mouthwateringly delicious. In his mind’s eye, he could see steam rising from the stack, a big pat of butter melting, sliding off to the side.
Milt forced the image out of his mind.
“I could, uh, pour you a bowl of cereal. I’ve got Lucky Charms.” Milt allowed himself to stare at Billy with undisguised desire. Sexual tension thrummed in the air. Milt wanted to draw the conclusion that its arrival was sudden, but he knew, intuitively, that it had been there from the moment Billy boldly opened the door without knocking. And maybe, if he was being honest, much longer ago than that. Perhaps it had begun on that one disastrous yet magical day when Billy had cast himself as Milt’s true-life hero….
Or perhaps it was simply because Milt was letting his true feelings out to play for the first time in a long, long time. He felt like years had been stripped away from his age—he could be a kid again, teens, early twenties.
He tried to reach down to discreetly adjust his dick, which had gotten hard.
Billy noticed. He pressed close to Milt, shoving his hand aside. He gave Milt’s basket a squeeze. “Are these your Lucky Charms? If so, I’d consider myself very lucky indeed if I could get myself a serving.” He squeezed again and let go. “A big serving.” Billy’s voice came out almost breathless, a croak.
Milt’s jaw dropped. But he didn’t move away.
Milt knew that once upon a time, maybe even as recently as a few days ago, his impulse would have been to back away from Billy with a mumble of apology. To perhaps blush and laugh—and then go to the pantry and pull out the real Lucky Charms. And yes, therewasa box there, right next to the box of Count Chocula. In some ways, Milt never did grow up.
