A High Country Tale Ch. 03: Of Odin and Ovid

The trail rose before me and turned sharply upward, away from the creek. At the top of the rise, I found myself faced into a giant, gnarled century oak entrenched beside a supple, stately old-growth linden tree. The arborous couple was statuesque and regal in their paired state, exuding a profound connection bound by entwined roots. It made mockery of my nascent notions of self-sustained immortality. Awareness formed in me confirming the trees as the source of the strange twittering. Intuiting a surreal exchange amid Ents of yore, I perked my ears toward the fascinating emanations and realized the ability to absorb patterings of an arboreal jargon previously beyond my apprehension.

The natives of this woodland seemed to be addressing my passing. I perceived the two gargantuans gently admonish me. "Embrace your fortune, Luke...fate may be fickle...grasp the sureness of your humanity, young mandrake...roots must be deeply set and should shriek denial be they unearthed."

Prickling of my skin made me certain of an Odinistic presence.

A cold, lonely blast of wind brought my exultation to an abrupt end. Silver moonbeams transformed abruptly to a roiling sky, ushering in a freeze-framed, strobe-like change. I held back a gasp as I watched time-lapsed enshrouding of the previously warm, welcoming, starry heavens by billowing, shape-shifting thunderheads.

Warned, my feet hit the ground running. Sprinting through the now biting gusts, piercing raindrops and recriminating branches, I made my way out of the park and through the wide spot in the demarcating hedge.

Now intent, I rushed through deserted blocks of darkened houses and burst through the familiar front door. The coldness of the empty, open-windowed apartment gave way to the stairway and I flew up the steps. Slamming the windows and halting the flapping translucent curtains, I reached the sanctity of the cold bed. Pulling the bedcovers completely over my head, I lay there shivering in the solitude of the well-appointed room, so silent and sterile. The previous impression of unassailable autonomy made my isolation all the more stark. There was no relief in shutting out the descending maelstrom.

Overwhelmed by yearning for warmth of human proximity made me forget to pinch myself as back-up for escape. Lost and imprisoned by aloneness, I felt tears well up, spilling over as I cried my way into a fretful torpor.

It seemed an eternity but consciousness did return, allowing me succor in Jeremy's voice, "Luke, baby, it's OK. It's only a dream, wake up for me." And with that, the tempest receded and the chill of 'alone' departed. I opened my eyes. The warmth of his arms around me flooded back. My head burrowed into his chest, his nose and mouth buried amongst my curls. Four eyes blurred by tears. No longer sad ones, though, as I surfaced from what I had known all along was only dreamscape.

The allure of the erogenous events had acted the Siren and held my spirit prisoner somewhere for a lesson in humility. Of that, I was certain, as I opened up to the exquisite reality holding me. The effervescent smile first beheld upon falling from a ladder into his arms years ago now greeted me once more. Jeremy tugged me closer to free me from the anxiety.

"Gosh, Luke, I was watching you sleep--- you were trippin', somewhere way off, baby." He reached and grasped my hard-on to make the point, "I saw this grow in the middle of it. You came in my hand. It musta' been good...but then you started jerking and quaking and all those tears started up. You scared me, Luke. I couldn't get to you. What was going on in there?" He tapped my head with a greatly curious expression.

It was still the deep of night, before cock's crow as the Old Ones once called it. Everything was muffled here under our quilt. I began divulging the strangeness that had been willingly enjoined. As I reached the weird encounter in the woods, we recognized a very long-fingered hand curl over Jeremy's shoulder and into our midst. Ambergai Gee was noting the nuances of my telling. Not speaking a word, we knew he would add counsel when requested. So I continued. The big hand clasped mine and held it. I proceeded to tell of the encounter at the trees with the surreal surrounds; it brought chills to me in the recounting. By relating my emotions, plus the interpretation with which I came away, I was granted some catharsis.

I was positive some level of power had absconded with my conscious self to convey something of import. The three-dimensional world in which we exist can only be but a miniscule sliver of the universe. The other fathomable and unfathomable realms amidst which we all swirl elude all but the most adroit minds of humankind. Our instincts are so dulled by technology and day-to-day interactive stimuli that we have become inured to knowledge of those spheres. Some amongst us must be able to perceive such concepts, I felt sure. It was up to the rest of us to appreciate those who may be trusted to equate the truth of it all by their comprehension.

"Vera good, ma' distinctly divinin' young Mon, Luke," Gai broke my bemusement following the rehashing. His sotto voice and island twang gave some understanding to my experience. The wise and 'in-tune' elder almost never offered his deeper thoughts without prodding. Because of this, we were rapt in our attention. "Ya' be a'best served, ma' Mon, by a'writin' dem words in ya' head down on de' paper, as 'dey were well a'spoken and a'thought o', now."

Rarely verbose, the man went on, "Mi been a'tinkin' 'bout some tin's dese past days, as da' winds dey' be a'blowin' in some changin' aroun' of da' ways of da' world right now. Mi done seein' a few o'dem and dey's gonna be a'needin' some unnerstannin', if ya' be a'seein' da' point, ma' Mons. Mi bein' glad for da' seein' you been doin', now, Luke Mon. It bein' some deep sights ya' been havin', to be sure. Keep 'dem inna' fronta' ya' mind for a time, mi be sayin'. An, be a'memmerin' o' da balances in 'da world, mi just be a'addin'." With that, he hushed and embraced the both of us long and deeply, wrapping those lengthy arms around us, pulling into his body. For once, there existed no sexual innuendo. We were frankly taken aback.

Beyond my backside, I felt movement. The boys had apparently awakened to our muted exchange. First one white hand then an ebony one inched over my back, joining in our 'early service'. Yup, I was one very lucky man, no doubt. Family made it so. Though I could still feel the small core of a cold knot in the pit of my belly, the togetherness made me whole. We would handle anything that came along.

"She was there with her fireman husband. And that really old guy that sings with her sometimes." Bryce always rose to the sight and smell of celebrities. This week, his inaugural Telluride Gay Ski Festival, was sending him overboard. Celebs were rife in their presence. Sightings had the boy fairly salivating in the rounding of corners all over town. Ironically, he hadn't said a single word about Oprah's involvement with Jeremy's episode two days before. We were convinced he was simply respecting his hero, Jeremy, by the lack of comment. Adolpho and Bryce had been down in the village the previous night, and townside the night before, for dinner plus dancing amongst the congregation of alternative lifestylers. The magnetic effect of celebs toward edgy, hard-partying LGBT citizens was well known. Though commonly a basis for jokes, gay people did grasp the world of revelry.

"Do you mean Tony Bennett?" Luke couldn't let this one go without comment, "Arguably the most renowned singer and entertainer of his era?" He wasn't buying that Bryce might actually be unaware. This was gay suicide.

"Oh, is he the one Gaga let do a duet CD with her a few years ago?" The boy couldn't be more incorrigible by his ignorance and the great room fairly erupted in faux disbelief at the possibility.

"Let him... do an album... with Her Highness? The lady who fashion-states raw tenderloin?" Jake opened up on the matter, also agog about the dearth of knowledge. "She is sooo lucky to have him as a mentor. Now she might actually learn to sing instead of just marketing herself. And she knows it, cuteness. You do know about his trademark, 'I left my Heart in San Francisco', right, Bryce?" That should put the matter to rest, he rationalized.

The blank look left no doubt, and we all ganged up on the boy. Even Adolpho looked somewhat mystified, "You are seriously saying you don't, baby boi? That is an insult to both the great American icon and the great American city. The man is a first-gen Italiano, like me, and his family comes from the south of Italy. Reggio Calabria. Bryce, we have to educate you. For your own good, baby." He was chortling throughout this 'tirade', making his boy know all was in fun. Mostly.

Cal interjected, "Ever hear of 'The Way You Look Tonight'? Or 'Stranger in Paradise'? Head shakes made it funnier. "Maybe, 'The Best Is Yet to Come'?" Still nothing. We were all amazed. Some of the younger generations seemed so self-absorbed. The world was literally passing them by. Laughter was the best response, yes, but better yet was to begin the education. Cal went to the extensive music library Jeremy and Luke had collected over the years.

While Cal searched the racks, Luke expanded the conversation, "Mr. Canyon, are you aware that Gaga's husband isn't a real fireman? He is an actor on a fireman TV series." When Bryce expressed surprise at the information, sans any inkling of embarrassment, all recognized that the coming 'battle' would be an uphill one.

As everyone thought about this, the strains of 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town' filled the room. Bryce's beaming grin said it all. Paydirt. "Why didn't you play that first, dudes? Everyone knows that guy. You know--- Frosty the Snowman." The collective groan drowned out the wrong-season song. We kept the banter good-natured. Bryce didn't feel put upon and Adolpho determined to begin a mentoring role to bring the young ski bum and computer programming student into 'the know'.

The landline trilled from the far side of the room and Luke went to get it. The rest went on to planning for the day's activities. Jeremy was symptomless and back to normal. With skiing off his list for a week or more, substitutes were being planned. But the man was on vigil himself, over Luke, since the nightmare scenario. He became animated as he observed his lover's body language from the telephone alcove. The young doctor had gone into professional demeanor and Jeremy saw it.

As Luke hung up the phone, Jeremy sidled over unobtrusively and received a look of both consternation and misgiving. "Honey, that was Annalise Chastain. She's at the hospital and just told me that Elmer Edgewater is agitating for leaving. Against doctor's advice, broken leg and all. She says his girlfriend just arrived an hour ago and the two are 'going home'. What in Hell can that mean...?" His angst was evident. "Bart and Annalise are still trying to reason with him, but she even admitted to understanding his logic. I think the whole thing is about to blow up, or worse. Do you think we should go over and see if we can help?"

"Luke, y'know I'm behind you 100%, whatever you need to do. That said, baby, what do you think the old guy is going to do different because you or we show up? The man is a maverick and a hermit. And we've both seen what his nature is. When he sets his mind, it's 'Katie bar the door', now. You know that is true. I gotta admit, though, I am awfully curious about the girlfriend thing," he said with flavor.

In the end, the decision was to wait. Even should the old fellow decide to truly go home, he must first travel by way of the Chastains' home. That was only a quarter mile over from ours. The two decided they might provide more an ace up the sleeve by being available there than in sterile and universally disliked hospital environs.

As the group left the lodge awhile later, Luke injected an omitted tidbit, "Oh, I forgot to mention. Annalise said that she and Bart were hoping they may get some added back-up. They had a call right before she contacted me and said that the girlfriend's escort may possibly sway Mr. Edgewater. The escort is Oprah."

"It is too Shemar Moore. He cut off his mustache and goatee to go DL. And that has to be his brother--- Shemar isn't married." The loud whisper reverberated through the glass cab.

Luke and I snickered together. It was a common mistake. Jeremy did carry a resemblance to the CSI actor, even though Luke's husband was several shades darker. And Cal was regularly linked with JK due to their shaved heads and ripped physiques.

Luke elbowed me, pointing. The mustached drag queen passed the joint he was sucking on over to Adolpho in highland camaraderie. The Italian boy took it and whispered back at the queen conspiratorially, "Girl, that man has five inches more between his legs than Shemar could ever hope to. Give it up, girlfriend." He winked, grinning at the heavily rouged and lip-glossed character in the chartreuse ski outfit. A long toke later, Adolpho offered it back, but the queen signaled to keep it going, so he passed it to Bryce instead.

Mustache lady's travel companion was a leggy bleach-blond with candy-cane striped pink body suit. She wasn't certain either way but continued undressing the black hunks regardless. 'Honey child, I thought that was a prop pokin' through it was so big, but if that's real, he can put me down with it anytime he wants." A curved pink fingernail pointed at the bulge resting between my bro-in-law's sprawled legs and we laughed again. The Pink Lady licked lips in the saying and looked at me. "Boy, you picked your seat right, sittin' next to that. Do me a favor and squeeze the snake for me, I wanna see if it is da' truth."

Just stoned enough for the challenge, I doubled-down on the queen's dare. Turning to JK, I interrupted his and Cal's chitchat and when he turned toward me, I reached up and pulled his neck down to my level, lipping and tonguing him lasciviously. My free hand went for the crotch and I fondled the banana as requested. Jeremy, surprised at the act, nevertheless responded in kind. I plainly shocked JK as much as the two queens. He was such a good sport, I thought. When the ripe swelling grew larger almost immediately, Pink Lady nearly fainted, fanning her face in mock shock, "It IS real Marty... my God, it's alive."

The quip broke up the entire cabin. Cal reached down to rub on the changing outline, as well, beaming a grin at the two girls, "Ladies, this junk has graced the thirteenth ass in line to the Throne of England, now, so beware...be very aware..."

JFK good-naturedly carried on the charade, spreading his legs even further. Taking the proffered blunt now making its way to him, he grinned toward the drag queens, "Cal, my man, don't let them know that I am the short stuff between you and me. And that you always cum at least five times per lay-down. That's the dope, now, big man, but they couldn't handle the truth." He replied to Cal's caressing by a like maneuver, diverting the queens' attention to the previously un-noticed silhouette. They were now officially dazzled. If all this weren't enough, the two ebony studs next shared a power hit, sending the cabin into overexertion.

They didn't back off for a good minute and as the cab was peaking at the summit station, the station lady caught the action. Captivated, the older lady remarked to her co-worker. She recognized Jeremy from a couple of days earlier as the injured black skier being expressed over the mountain, gurneyed and in a neck brace. The two pointed repeatedly, catching others up in the spectacle. The sensually expressive duo caused a contagion of response through the gondola summit in moments. "Dear, if that is any indication of how the young man operates with a broken neck, I am flat fearful for his partner when he is healthy."

An hour later, down townside, seated in our favorite sidewalk bistro on Pacific Street, the six of us bantered happily amidst the afternoon bustle of out-of-town clientele. Awaiting the call from the hospital had been impossibly fraught, so the trip over-mountain to enjoy afternoon dinner together proved therapeutic. The gondola trip had loosened us all up and the relaxed atmosphere in the bistro aided the measure. We split a pitcher of 24K margaritas in anticipation of the meal-for-six of grilled tilapia filets served Spanish family style.

Jake cut into the conversation after finishing off his second salted glass, "Luke, don't look now but here comes that cutie from The Late Show--- you know, the Stay Human Band leader...I can't pull out the name..." he said, looking bewildered.

Sure enough, I turned around and caught sight of the sexy man he had noticed, "Jake, that's not Jon Batiste, boyfriend, it's that hottie that I told you about, Ezra Pound. He chefs here. Jeremy and Gai have met him a couple times--- here, and at the lodge. Remember, baby?" Jeremy was grinning at the man as he pulled up to our table with a huge tray of food.

"Yo, Pound Cake, how's it draggin' flyboy?" he greeted the bistro chef.

Recognizing us, Ezra had decided to make a rare delivery himself. Distributing steaming hot platters of Spanish tilapia over wild rice and picoso broccoli crowns with artichoke hearts around our table, the sexy man stood back and scanned our group.

Looking at me, he commented, "Doctor, you are a-workin' it, boi. Dat set o' bookends be growin' by the looks of it. 'Cept you be missin' a couple. Where he be, now?" He fist-bumped JK and continued his scrutiny of the others.

I smiled that he referred to Ambergai Gee as 'a couple'. Gai was that well-hung. "You know, Ezra, he is off on errands and we aren't exactly sure what those are. He'll find us when he's ready. Boi, this all looks delicious. Are you going to join us?"

We introduced the lanky man with huge feet to Jake and Cal, then watched as the chef left no doubt about his likely aim should the chance arise for plugging my boy, Doctor Marshall. His weakness for educated white men had been made plain on several occasions. Firstly, down a deserted alleyway, upon introducing himself to me a few months before. Jake would be enjoying further familiarization. Cal appeared amused. Adolpho and Bryce filled him in on the details.

The busy bistro negated any possibility for Ezra joining us then but his interest in the whiteboy-loaded table assured a visit to our side of the mountain in the near future. He backed away toward the kitchen, kneading his crotch in insinuation. More than one white ass in our group tingled at the move. Bryce, particularly, took reminiscent note, which produced a knowing glance between Jeremy and Adolpho. The young ski bum was insatiable. It was certainly an advantage for him that he had alighted in our world, settling with Adolpho, what with our laissez-faire attitudes toward sex.

Over the scrumptious feast, we all speculated on the tack to be taken regarding the older trio over at the county hospital. Jake felt that Mr. Edgewater's wishes must be respected at all costs, while the younger men felt intervention on the elderly man's behalf was important. I found it enlightening to see how the younger generations missed the value of autonomy and independence in latter stages of life. Deducing the difference must arise from inability to fathom elderly priorities, and having experienced little more than the bubble of adolescence, I remembered my similar rationale from that stage in life.

My pocket buzzed an incoming call and I retrieved the device. "Luke?" It was Bartholomew Chastain. "We are wheeling Elmer out to the limousine for heading around to our home. The entourage is a tad disconcerting and Annalise felt I should call to request your and Jeremy's meeting us there. To assess and discuss his plans. Might there be any chance for you to do so, young man?" He was always traditionally proper in his manners, yet the aloofness I now perceived made me concerned for that which was not being said. I nodded to my husband and his intuition kicked in right away. Assuring the gentle soul of our willingness, I ended the call and all of us finished, then settled up, making our way back toward the gondola station.