"Hey Stan," Jeff says, as I answer the phone.
Hearing Jeff's voice on the phone is as if it has not been ten years since we last spoke. By the end of the conversation, we have agreed to meet at his new cabin on Lake Roland.
-
The car hugs the twisting road as I near the summit of the low mountains. My fingers drum the leather-covered steering wheel to the beat of the rockabilly song on the radio, a Carl Perkins's tune I think. The months of fourteen-hour days are over for a few weeks and the stress quickly fades with each passing mile.
Jeff and I had become inseparable friends in scouts. We didn't live close, but on campouts, we always shared a tent. It hadn't taken long before we shared sleeping bags and each other. Before him, I hadn't been a fan of camping. He made it worthwhile.
I think about Mr. Silver, the scoutmaster, as I slow for some highway construction. John had lost a leg in the war and walked using crutches. He always made me think of Long John Silver, the pirate. Some nights, Jeff and I would lie in our tent and talk about what it would be like to be like John. Just crazy boy talk I would tell myself later as I would fall asleep.
The older woman holding the construction stop sign, waves me on and I give her a cheerful smile as I pass. She returns the smile. I am thankful I don't have a job like hers, but then consider that maybe she needed it and it was all she could find.
After high school, a scholarship took Jeff to a university I could not afford. Time and distance let our friendship become a distant memory after exchanging a few letters.
The ding of a warning bell forces my attention to return to the present. I scan the gauges and notice I am low on gasoline. I see a small store with pumps just ahead and drive across the gravel lot, rocks banging off the underside of the car, and stop at the pump. An old man with a faded New York Yankees baseball cap shuffles towards me as I get out. He asks if I would like help and I thank him, and then I shove the nozzle into the side of the car. We chat about nothing, mostly the cool weather, and the sunny day.
Back on the road, the radio station fades and I search for another, but only find static. I push in a CD of old blues music and lean back, and enjoy the welcome feel of being in the middle of nowhere, alone, with the sound of blacktop under the wheels and the yellow strips slipping rapidly beneath the car.
I see the first sign for the lake, ten miles it reads. I wonder what Jeff is like now, what kind of work he does, who he has been seeing. I have been too busy to have a social life and a few years since the last guy in my life. That relationship had been too short, like the ones before him. I know I need to change my workaholic lifestyle, but I love the money too much.
I lose track of the miles and almost miss the turnoff. Breaking hard, the tires squeal as I make the turn at the last moment. I laugh and coast to a stop to look at the directions scribbled on a yellow legal pad.
A rutted road through a wooded stretch ends at a new cabin - large, one level, a blue metal roof, with a nice sized finger of water snaking out to the main lake behind it. I look around as I park and find no other homes. I leave my bag in the trunk for later and walk along a path to the opened door. I knock then see someone standing on the deck with his back to me. I knock again and call his name then hear someone yell for me to come on through the house.
Jeff turns towards me and I take in his appearance - short spiked blond hair, shirt dangling open over tanned skin with buffed muscles, khaki shorts, and a single leg supporting him. Nearby, a pair of crutches leans against the railing around the deck.
"Hey ole buddy," he kindly says, still leaning against the railing.
My mouth dangles open as I continue to stare. "What...?" I mumble, not quite believing what I see.
"Shades of old man Silver ... huh?" He laughs and holds his hand out to hug me.
My lips comfortably rest against his as though it has only been a short time since our last kiss. Even the cool breeze off the water does not chill my feelings as I feel his tongue slip into my mouth.
At last I break away from the kiss, my hands still rest lightly around his waist.
"Goddamn-n," I drawl.
"Yeah man. It's great to see you. You've been in my thoughts lately, a lot."
I feel his erection strain at his zipper as his short pants remain close to me. I laugh.
"What happened?" I beg.
"We have a lot to catch up on and plenty of time to do it in. Are you hungry, get you something to drink? I have beer and whiskey. I even made some ham and cheese sandwiches. You still like it on wheat bread, don't you?"
"Sure."
He slips the metal cuffs of the crutches around his arms and walks across the deck. I follow with memories of John Silver, both the scoutmaster and the pirate, flooding my mind. Jeff moves gracefully as the barefoot swings between the tips of the crutches, as though he has done this for years.
He leans into the refrigerator and asks, "Beer?" He stands holding a Corona out to me. "Do you remember how we used to get some adult to buy us beer?"
"Yeah. Those were the good ole days." I take the bottle and he grabs another. "Great place. You've done okay for yourself."
"Got lucky with a few startup companies. The last one left me so I don't have to work, unless I want too." He chuckles and swigs a large gulp of beer. "I bought five hundred acres and built the cabin last year." I follow him back out to the deck. He points around the finger of the lake. "All mine, back several hundred feet from the water, all the way out to the main lake. My private swimming hole."
"Wow!"
