Blurb
Jerry is returning to his small Minnesota hometown after the sudden death of his grandfather to a town full of memories he'd tried to escape. He soon remembers one of the only good memories of his time spent growing up in the small town and reconnects with a person he had long forgot about.
However Jerry's reception in town is not all that welcoming and he'll have to work hard to break the ice and earn his way back into the hearts of his former friends, and that of David.
Niches:
m/m, love, bears, kissing
*****
Breaking the Ice
Chapter 1
Stepping into his grandfather's home brought back memories of Saturday morning French toast and warm, happy Christmas mornings. Jerry looked around at the earthly possessions of his granddad, evidence of the only parent he'd known since he was eleven. He put his pug down on hardwood floors and closed the door to the biting Minnesota December. The dog stayed close to Jerry's feet, suspicious of the unfamiliar surroundings and annoyed by the dog vest clinging to his back to fend off the cold.
Since he was eleven, this was the only true home he'd known. Even after fleeing the small town for the city lights of Los Angeles, he'd never felt more at home than how he did here. Walking through the foyer, he and Butch tentatively made the trek into the small living room that was designed to get as much of the fleeting sun when it reared its head. He'd been afraid that the memories would be suffocating, but as he settled into his granddad's recliner the memories that flooded him was more comforting than nostalgic.
The home hadn't changed much over the years, even though he'd only been back here three times over the past ten years since he'd secured his escape to varsity through scholarships and his granddad's forethought. In fact, much of the town hadn't changed much at all. He stared at the mantelpiece framing the fireplace and smiled at the photos of his life's achievements; his beefy build towering over his class and his bearded smile radiating with promise on his graduation day, and the many holiday snaps of him and his granddad when he flew him down for visits during the years.
He leaned forward in his seat and placed his face in his open palms, rubbing his afternoon stubble in deep thought.
"Looks like it's just me and you, boy," he said at the wheezing dog at his feet. He made his way up to his old bedroom, in a space vacuum and untouched over the years and passed out on his bed, jeans and boots still intact.
*****
The funeral had been touching, but draining all the same. He'd arrived the day of the funeral in order to lessen his stay in the town and intended to settle all the legalities as soon as possible. The town folk hadn't been that welcoming to him at the funeral. Only a handful of well-wishers had taken the time to extend their condolences, but for the most part people had kept their distance. He'd chalked it up to people not really knowing what to say, and not really knowing him anymore for that matter.
The fridge contained butter and spoiled milk, the freezer running over with unhealthy frozen dinners. He smiled at his granddad's undying bachelor ways and shrugged into his jacket - he might not remember how to drive in thick inches of snow, but he remembered the importance of layering up in Bloomington, MN, population 82,960, during winter.
Leaving Butch perched perilously close to the roaring hearth he slipped out of the house and made the trek to the 1997 Tacoma pickup that Jeff Bummer had been driving ever since.
The best route to the town's largest supermarket was through the main street. Driving carefully on the slippery road, Jerry couldn't help but smile at all the memories that vied for dominance. He noticed the wall behind the church and instantly was taken back to senior year Fourth of July weekend where he and a few friends had a very close encounter with the sheriff because of a grand homemade firework bomb backfiring in the worst way possible.
Driving past the town's only youth center, he remembered the Saturday afternoon where two horny sixteen year olds shared their first kiss in the utilities closet - David someone or other, if he remembered correctly. He'd noticed David at the service and had been impressed by the evolution of the ruggedly handsome boy with the sad eyes. He'd retained the same sad looking eyes but a decade later and he'd grown in all the right places Jerry thought as he put the truck in park in the supermarket's lot.
Jerry noticed Mrs. Anderson who he'd seen at the service that morning, on duty behind the cashier, for as long as he could remember. He made a beeline to the alcohol and filled his basket up on scotch and beers, his drinks of choice. He went in search of peanut butter, but must've been missing it. Mrs. Anderson noticed him walking up and down and asked him what he's searching so frantically.
"You're going to need more than peanut butter toast to soak up all that alcohol," she said and moved laboriously from behind the counter. She showed him to the back of the store in the only place he didn't search. "Right here," she said, "where it's been for the last forty seven years," she said.
As he headed to the tills, stocked up with all the beer he'd need, he noticed a lady standing with her small daughter eyeing him disdainfully while weighing potatoes and loading cauliflowers into her trolley at the same time.
He loaded his items onto the conveyor as it was becoming obvious that his reception in town was icy at best.
A bit on edge and slightly annoyed by the attitude of the folks of the town, he was carefully navigating his way down the road en route back to the house. An icy sheath covered the road, the remnants of a light drizzle that was making it especially difficult to steer the car. Well-timed brakes were key to bring the vehicle to a standstill at robots. With only a few blocks to go until he reached home he realized he was in the wrong lane that eventually became a turn lane and switched on his indicators before making a lane change. An obnoxious honk dragged him out of his terse concentrative state back to reality.
He checked his rearview mirror and saw a scowling driver behind the wheel of a bright red Escalade. So he'd cut the guy off, he thought, it wasn't intentional, unlike the guy's obvious overreaction. He sighed as he flashed hazards in apology. This just further fueled his resolve to settle his granddad's estate and get the hell out of this town.
*****
David could hear Butch from the driveway. The dog was barking its head off probably from being kept holed up all day and the sudden shift from a hot climate to this extreme cold. He was comforting the dog when a furious knock on the door rapped the house.
"Will you keep that yapping mutt quiet? I'm trying to work!"
"What the hell is your problem?" said Jerry. He recognized his neighbor as none other than David, the boy he'd shared his first kiss with when he was sixteen and horny.
David's countenance seemed to vibrate with animosity. Jerry didn't know where the hostility was coming from. He hadn't seen the guy in ten years and can't remember pissing him off any time before that.
"That dog has been barking and driving me mad since the moment you stepped foot here. It's getting very old, fast. And I'm not the only one's been complaining about it either." He challenged Jerry with a daring stare. "I can't get any work done with that constant racket. And learn how to drive!" David stalked off and left a flabbergasted Jerry staring at his retreating back.
"Figures," he said as David made his way up the driveway with a red Escalade parked in it. "Goddamn small town blue collar worker bee," Jerry said and slammed the door.
Chapter 2
Jerry woke in his granddad's recliner with a stiff neck and shivering, with cold ashes where hours earlier a beautiful fire in the hearth had been keeping him warm. He waded through empty beer cans littered on the ground and stared out at a grey, snow covered front lawn. The sight was enough to further add to his depression.
To make matters worse, the relentless snow since he's arrival in Bloomington had been doing number on the entire town, and he'd steadily been noticing eerie sounds coming from the porch roof. The last thing he needed was a caved in roof when he was trying to sell the house as soon as possible. Getting the coffee going, he pulled on a jacket and went to investigate the roof. He desperately wished he knew what to be looking for, and berated himself for not paying attention all those years spent in his grandfather's hardware store about how to take care of snow removal. His years spent in accountancy school didn't train him for something like this. He did know that he'd have to get rid of that accumulated snow on the porch roof soon, or he'd have a lot of damage and repairs on his hands.
He headed back inside and poured black coffee. It was a Sunday morning but he'd try his luck. He found the number to Bloomington Maintenance and Handyman Services only to get a voicemail from David giving his cell number in out of office hours emergencies.
"Unbelievable," he said. No way was he going to allow David to clear his roof's snow. He could just imagine the smarminess. He instead decided to face the cold again and make the trek to his granddad's old maintenance and hardware store in the hope of a referral to another service provider. Jerry spent a good ten minutes pleading with Butch to keep quiet and settled him splayed out in front of the warmth of the freshly roaring hearth.
