Page 6 of Hearing Hank

As I pick up my scattered work clothes off the floor and toss them in the hamper, I decide to start changing things tonight. It’s only six, and there’s a gay-friendly bar in Cheyanne that serves pretty great burgers. It’s time to work on getting out of my own way.

In forty minutes I’m sitting at a high top, congratulating myself on ordering a beer and a cheeseburger without writing or pointing. It made my palms sweat to talk to the waitress, but once I pushed past the initial fight or flight, the anxiety was actually fairly short-lived. I probably won’t tell Wyatt that I pretended it was him wearing a mini-skirt and asking me what I wanted to eat, but I might. Depends on how loud he laughs the next time the goat gets me.

It’s not busy in here, and my burger shows up in short order. I say thank you to the waitress with my words, and I’m feeling pretty good about my success so far. The burger and fries are both good and I’m hungry, so for the first few minutes, my plate gets the majority of my attention. When my stomach quiets down and my fries are half gone, I take a look around the bar and see who else might be a good candidate to try my fledgling conversational skills on.

There are a couple of guys sitting at the bar by themselves, and a man and woman obviously together at the far end. In the booths across from where I’m sitting, there are two good-looking guys in one and an older gentleman in another who appears to be more asleep than awake. I can’t hear the conversation the two men are having, but something about them makes me think they’re together. They’re both ridiculously hot, but in a way that seems accidental rather than polished. I’d peg them as cowboys, with serious faces and narrowed eyes, but their clothes are wrong. They’re wearing heavy work boots and flannel shirts over t-shirts. The taller man has a laptop out, and he’s reading something on it and eating with the other hand. The shorter-haired one throws his head back and laughs loudly at something his companion says, and it makes me smile, but also makes my chest pinch.

I can see Lee and me in that same booth sharing a meal with our legs touching under the table like those two. It seems ridiculous that I’ve developed a crush this big on someone I met literally today. I haven’t felt attracted like this to someone since I had a crush on the quarterback in high school who didn’t even know I was alive. I mooned over him for months, but of course, I never said anything, which in hindsight was probably for the best. I’m done with that though. Even if I get shot down, I’m going to say something to Lee. But right now, it’s time to find someone to practice on.

I reluctantly move my attention from the guys in the booth. As fun as they are to look at, they are obviously into each other and don’t need any extra conversation partners. My continued survey of the room pauses when I lock eyes with one of the guys sitting at the bar. He’s pretty in a genderfluid way that reminds me a little of Lee, even though this man is shorter and younger. It’s probably the glitter eyeshadow that makes me think of Lee the most. As if I need any help keeping him in the forefront of my mind.

It looks like eye contact is all the encouragement this guy needed since he’s already hopping off his stool and bringing his drink over to my table. I start to freeze up and remind myself that it doesn’t matter what I say to him. As long as something comes out of my mouth, I can count it a win. As he approaches the table I see the waitress coming over to check on me right behind him. It gives me the perfect conversational opening.

I take a deep breath, and as he slides onto the other stool at my table I squeak out, “Can I buy you another one of those?” I even manage an appropriate gesture toward his glass.

“Oh, yes, please! That would be great,” he says enthusiastically, and I swear that’s the only thing I have to say for the next twenty minutes. I hear all about his life and his best girlfriend and how hard it was to choose the outfit he has on. I tell him the outfit looks good in a pause, and he’s off for another ten minutes. I think it may be one of the easiest conversations I’ve ever had. It certainly hasn’t demanded very much of me. It’s also been exactly what I was after. Mission accomplished.

During his next pause for breath, I tell him I have to go now.

“I need to be at work early in the morning. It’s been very nice talking to you,” I say as I get up to pay my check at the bar. My companion looks a little disappointed, but he starts talking to someone else as soon as I walk away, so I think he’ll probably be fine.

I walk outside and lean against my truck for a minute, looking up at the sky and breathing it all in. It doesn’t seem like I did much, but that was a big deal for me. I can see how it built on skills I’m already comfortable with. My therapist was right. It’s time for me to stretch my skills. And I know just who I want to practice with.

8

Lee

Iwakeupwitha bit of disorientation to the smell of bacon and toast. It clears quickly as I take in my surroundings and recognize Wyatt’s guest room. Yesterday was a huge day, and today I plan on taking it a lot easier. I’m also planning on giving a certain sexy ranch hand lots of space. If I make him uncomfortable enough that he feels the need to run away, I wont push myself on him.

I head out into the kitchen in my favorite robe to discover that there’s a man I haven’t met in the kitchen kissing Wyatt, and I presume that his husband arrived home sometime in the night. At least I hope so. Wyatt hears me walk in and pulls back enough to tell me good morning. The man I met yesterday was pleasant and happy enough, but the man I’m looking at now is radiantly happy. I’m a little jealous somewhere deep inside.

“Hi,” I say, smiling at Mark. “I’m Leroy, Lee if you’re a friend, and I hope you are.”

“Definitely.” Mark says with a smile back, “and I’m Mark.”

“And I’m gonna burn the bacon!” Wyatt exclaims and turns his attention back to the stove.

Breakfast is delicious, and Mark is as friendly as one could hope for. After eating more than I ever would at home, and being pleasantly surprised to find that they had the oat milk creamer I love so much, I set myself up on the porch with my laptop and spend an easy, relaxed day finding absolutely nothing for party supply rentals closer than Cheyanne. Not much of a surprise. The surprise is that when I start calling around, there’s hardly anything available for the weekend we need. I expand my search to Fort Collins, and then to Denver, where I can find the things I need, but not anyone who will deliver two hours away to another state. It looks like throwing this party is going to be a little more complicated than I expected, but I believe I can get it done. Except for a brief lunch break with Wyatt and Mark over sandwiches, I work my phone and computer until 4 or so, making lists of places that should have the things I need.

I didn’t expect to, but I’m having a wonderful day. Working outside in the fresh air is great, and rather than making me feel lonely, the wide-open space and all this time to myself makes me feel content to be exactly how I am. As I drive toward Sam and Paul’s house for dinner, I find myself thinking this trip was exactly what I needed.

Sam’s not quite off shift when I arrive at their house, and I tease Paul a little bit about not having dinner ready for his man. He’s spent all day working on a research project regarding LGBT kids and the risks of homelessness, depression, and suicide, so the middle finger he slips my way is absolutely warranted.

“So seriously, is there something I can do to help with dinner?” I ask. “I’m sure I remember you promising to feed me tonight.”

“Quit your bitching, bitch,” Paul laughs. “Sam’s bringing home pizza. It’s really good here, and then no one has to cook.”

“Fine!” I exclaim as I flop on the couch dramatically. “As long as I won’t waste away to nothing!”

Paul comes over and grins down at me.

“I’ve really missed you, Lee. I’m so glad that you’re going to be around for a little bit to help me pull this wedding together, but mostly I’m just really glad to be able to hang out with you again. Facetime is nice, but it’s really not the same.”

“No, it’s not.” I pull Paul down next to me and give him a side hug. “I’m glad I’m here.” Then, because I’m me, I nudge him with my elbow and say, “I can’t imagine how on earth you could throw a party without my incredibly valuable insight and assistance.”

Paul is pushing me away from him and laughing as Sam walks through the front door with pizza and a six-pack. He was happy before, but when he spots Sam it’s like his entire being lights up. Just like Wyatt and Mark. I look over to Sam and see the same thing happening on his end. I hop off the couch and go relieve Sam of his burden.

“I’ll just take these to the kitchen, and then I don’t have to watch you two make out like you haven’t seen each other in a week.” They’re already in each other’s arms behind me as I head to the table.

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