by
A later-in-life M/M holiday romance short story.
As he waits in the bar of a San Francisco restaurant for the rest of his work group to arrive, ex-Navy JAG counsel Ren Itano sees someone arrive. At the end of the evening, Ren gives ex-Navy Legalman Jimmy Rubio a ride home. Jimmy invites Ren in for a cup of tea. After a night together, they begin a conversation about meeting again.
By Christmas day, both men suspect they're on the brink of being boyfriends. Can a chance meeting lead to the gift of a future together?
Adult situations, themes, and language.
Publisher: Independently Published
Genres:
Pairings: M-M
Heat Level: 2
Romantic Content: 5
Ending: Click here to reveal
Character Identities: Gay
Protagonist 1 Age: 46-65
Protagonist 2 Age: 46-65
The next few minutes would be ample time for Ren to make some observations. My personal items were mixed into a curated selection of Dad’s things on the bookshelves. The hoarding gene passed me by, which facilitated living in base housing or studio apartments for most of my career; my San Diego residence had packed up into a small U-Haul trailer. But I did have things that spoke to who I was, like framed pictures from my Navy years, a framed college diploma, and souvenirs from my travels. I’d been all over the world in the past thirty years. Which was a good thing, because I probably wouldn’t be going much of anywhere as long as Mom was alive.
She was fine, as usual, if slightly confused, also as usual. I made sure she’d had something to eat; refilled the water bottle on her bedside table; told her a short funny story from the evening’s dinner; and said, “I’ve got company but don’t be afraid to ring the intercom if you need anything.”
READ MORE“Oh Jimmy, did you bring home a boy?”
“I brought home a lawyer,” I said, in a way that said she should be impressed. She laughed, which was also an acceptable response. “He’s very nice and I didn’t poach him from my own firm. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”
“Okay.”
I kissed her goodnight and headed back downstairs via the bathroom (to make sure it was in good shape for the next day) and the kitchen (likewise). Mom had non-Alzheimer’s dementia, mild enough that she could mostly take care of herself; still, attention must be paid. There were days I found her hearing aid in the refrigerator or the newspaper in the laundry basket. But I wasn’t thinking about that tonight, because when I got downstairs I found a handsome man sitting in one of the two rosewood corner chairs flanking the electric fireplace. All three items were unearthed from the hoard, like my grandmother’s bed. Ren was calmly reading Hafiz (also unearthed from the hoard), affecting not to mind the cavelike atmosphere. At least it was a clean, tidy cave now, after four consecutive weekends of family picking-over, donation deliveries, and 1-800-Got-Junk collection. More remained to be done, but it was a tolerable interim bedroom. Especially with this man sitting in it. “Did I have a tea you like?”
He looked up at me and smiled. “I should have asked what you’d like. The tea could be ready by now.”
“I’m not in a hurry,” I said, returning his smile.
COLLAPSE"View From The Bridge" previously appeared in the Bay Area Queer Writers Association anthology "Queer Cheer" (2023).
