Over-the-Counter Encounter

Dean kept his promise. On Thanksgiving Day, he carried Matt over the Kieler threshold and placed him on the couch before the picture window. Although Matt could not see the landscape, he could sense the light. He had had a series of very bad days. In fact, Dean considered taking him to the hospital at one point; however, Matt pleaded to go for Thanksgiving. If he were still bad after that, he would willingly submit to a hospital stay.

The aromas of the holiday permeated the home. Mrs. Kieler was busy in the kitchen aided by Mary. Ginger and Leslie were invited this year. They watched the football game with Mr. Kieler. Viv was supposed to spend Thanksgiving here also, but called at the last minute with some excuse. It was probably for the best.

The table was set with the best china and gold ware. The chandelier twinkled with hospitality. It twinkled in Matt's memory. He could sense its beckoning call as the aroma of Turkey and Stuffing and creamed onions and mince pie wafted by his nose and joined his spirit with remembrances of Thanksgivings past. As Matt stared blankly toward the window, Dean quietly observed. But like so many things around that house on that day, Dean was sensed.

"Is that you baby?" said Matt.

"Yep. Who else would sneak up on a blind man and kiss him."

Dean leaned over the back of the couch and kissed Matt, who held onto him tightly.

"Well," said Matt, "it's nice to be home for Thanksgiving. All that food. I once could eat a horse, if it was unsaddled and served with barbecue. Where's the appetite now? I think our sense of smell is hungrier than our sense of reason. I don't have the appetite now, but that turkey and stuffing is driving me crazy. Oh the aroma. You've brought me to heaven, sweet boy."

"I did the stuffing," said Dean.

"I'll dream of the taste; sausage and cornmeal and onions and seasonings, brown and soft to the palette. Oh how many Thanksgivings I've said, 'pass the stuffing', clumped it out and bolted it down like dog on a bone. Now I'd kill for the appetite to have just one savory taste."

Dean sat beside him, arranging the pillows for Matt’s comfort.

"Is that better?" asked Dean.

"As long as you're near, it's better. I love the aroma of Ivory soap."

"And I still love that coconut shit you use."

"Baby," said Matt, "I'm so glad my parents love you. You'll be a comfort to them when . . . "

". . . your Mom's an angel and a helluva cook."

"Did she make the whole-berry cranberry sauce?"

"Yep," said Dean. "It's amazing."

"Did she let you lick the spoon?"

"Yep."

"I love to lick the spoon. I can taste it. Mmmm."

"Well we'll see just how much you can have," said Dean looking into those beautiful blue eyes.

"It's a curse," said Matt. "It's a curse to embrace the smells of life and not have the stomach for it. But then again, there's no divide when it comes to us."

Dean kissed him, then stroked his hair. Matt pulled on Dean's tie.

"You're wearing a tie?" said Matt. "It won't take a blind man to guess which one. That hideous, purple tie. How can anyone look at that thing and eat dinner?"

"It's from a special friend," said Dean. "My little over-the-counter encounter."

"I should have had it gift-wrapped. You know they offer free gift-wrap."

"I know," said Dean. "But the cheap bastard who bought it didn't even remove the price tag."

"You could have any tie you wanted that night. Givenchy, Yves St Laurant. Any one."

"Yeah, I know," said Dean. "But I was jealous of the bastard you bought it for. I suggested the ugliest one I could find."

"Jealous of yourself."

"I'm not jealous of myself anymore. No one should envy me when . . ."

"We've had a good run of it, Dean. We have had the best of all things; and that we didn't wind up on a porch, on old rocking chairs, balancing our gay checkbooks is just the price. So we didn't have the good old Pink American dream; we had much better than most."

"We did," said Dean, "and still do."

Matt yawned.

"Sorry about that," he said. "I feel so drowsy and . . ."

"Here let me prop you up."

Mary came by with a bowl of chips and dip.

"Dean, some dip?" she said.

"No thanks."

"How is he? Sleeping?"

"Sis," said Matt, "is that you?"

"I'd offer you some dip," she said, "but . . . "

"No come here baby sister."

He reached out for some dip. Dean guided his hand into the bowl, putting some dip on his finger."

"Onion, I hope," said Matt. "Not veggie or crab shit."

He licked his fingers and smiled with great satisfaction.

"Maybe, I'll be able to have some of that stuffing yet?"

Mary began to cry quietly. Suddenly, she put the bowls down.

"Shit," she said looking out the window. "Look, it's snowing."

Dean was very excited.

"No shit," said Matt. "It's too early for snow."

Mary went to all the rooms announcing this unusual occurrence for this time of year. An early snow was a treat indeed. They all gathered near the window.

"It's snowing, Matt," said Dean tears flowing. "Really, it's snowing."

"How can it be?" said Matt. "You're making it up to cheer me."

"No, baby," said Mrs. Kieler. "It's true. It didn't see in the forecast."

"Really," said Matt trying to get up. "Oh how I wish I could see it."

"It's snowing Matt," said Dean. "It's snowing, Matt and just for you. I prayed to God and he's granted me this one small blessing. I prayed to God. I prayed."

Dean hugged Matt with fervor loosing all composure. Mrs. Kieler signaled the company to retreat.

"Oh baby," said Matt, "I love you. Snowing. It's snowing. I can't see it. I can't see it. I want to see it."

"Oh how I wish you could. I'll tell you there's the big flakes, just the kind you like. And they're sticking on Mrs. Bolkonsky's roof, and on Ginger and Leslie's car."

"Did they bring the BMW or the Mercedes?"

"The Mercedes," said Dean. "I think this snow will pack nicely - and maybe I'll make some snow angels. It's really the most beautiful snowfall I have ever seen."

"Baby," said Matt. "I can see the most beautiful snowfall I have ever seen. You know I can all those years ago. I looked back at my apartment. There were the big flakes, sticking to the whole world. It was like in a movie; and I saw you. You were naked in the doorway, and I said then and there, ‘I will live the rest of my life with that man. That man is my snow angel.’"

Dean held Matt tightly in his arms.

"I remember," said Matt, "you wouldn't come out in it. You just stood by the door; and I was so happy. So very, very happy. And I decided to give you a little serenade."

Matt began to sing very weakly.

"I wish I were in the land of cotton,
Old times there are not forgotten,
Look away, look away . . .
Look away, look . . . away"

Matt left him.

Dean rocked back and forth. At first he thought Matt had dozed off in the middle of his little song, but the warmth was going and dead weight set in.

"No!" cried Dean. "Matt! Baby! Matt, don't leave me! My love. My sweet little flower! Matt! Matt!"

Mrs. Kieler ran into the living room dropping her basting spoon. Mr. Kieler caught her before she hit the carpet. Ginger and Leslie wrapped themselves around Mary. Dean's cries were sharp and pitiful. He rocked his love as if in that action life would return and death would be stayed. But. somewhere from God’s eye another angel snatched a soul taken from the arms of life, the family tree and the snow gift given as a sign – a sign as sure as the rainbow and the promise of Hyacinths in Spring.