The Handyman's Dream Read Free Page B

guy who seemed a likely partner. He was thinking about it now, though. All those pop songs on the radio, filled with all kinds of yearning, were hitting Ed’s ears differently these days. Whether the desire for a relationship was ignited by turning twenty-eight or by seeing the Dream Man, Ed realized it was something he wanted very much for himself: to grow older in the company of another man, to jump off the sexual roulette wheel of the gay bars.
    A thought occurred to him suddenly. Perhaps the reason he’d never given serious thought to leaving Porterfield was because all this time he did unconsciously desire the same kind of relationship his parents had enjoyed all those years.
    “Jesus,” he mumbled to himself. “I’ve been brainwashed by Leave It to Beaver, Father Knows Best, and Ozzie and Harriet.And Porterfield. Some great gay liberationist I am.”
    He shrugged. Maybe wanting a conventional relationship wasn’t the trendy, gay way to be in 1980, but he was relieved to realize he now knew himself a little better than he had before the new mailman had arrived on the scene. If Mailman Rick wasn’t available for a guy like Ed, at least now he knew what he was looking for.

    * * * * *

    Thursday morning was blessedly quiet for Ed. He didn’t have any appointments scheduled and the phone didn’t ring. That gave him plenty of time to prepare for the mail delivery, and to be a nervous wreck.
    He felt as though he was dressing for a date. He shoved clothes around in the closet, tried on several different shirts, and fussed over which pair of jeans made his ass look its best.
    “This is so dumb,” he kept muttering to himself, looking at the rejected outfits thrown on the bed. “This could be this dumbest, biggest waste of time in your whole life.”
    Still, even if Mailman Rick turned out to be straight and completely immune to Ed’s charms, Ed decided he might as well look his best. In some way, he thought, it really was a date. He just hoped he wasn’t dressing to impress Ralph Graham.
    By one o’clock Ed was sitting in a chair out of sight of the front door. He anxiously flipped the pages of a magazine. He didn’t want to give the appearance of expecting a knock on the door. He looked at his watch, riffled through a few more pages of National Geographic, and thought about going to the bathroom. The anticipation seemed to be doing a number on his bladder.
    The mailman hadn’t appeared by one-thirty. By this time Ed really did need to pee, so he tossed the magazine aside and was about to get up when he thought he saw some movement on the sidewalk. He gripped the arms of his chair, took a few deep breaths, and told himself to calm down.
    A few moments later Ed heard a knock at the front door. He closed his eyes and prayed: Please don’t let it be Ralph Graham! He got up and opened the door. Relief flowed through him. Mailman Rick looked up from the letter in his hand and smiled.
    “Mr. Stephens?”
    “Yes, that’s me.”
    Oh, my God, Ed thought. Rick was just as handsome up close as he was from a distance. Although the guy would probably never be asked to model for a magazine ad, the simple and direct masculinity in his face completely appealed to Ed. He had guessed correctly, as Rick’s eyes were indeed a dark shade of brown. They were direct, friendly, and looking right at Ed.
    “Certified letter for you, Mr. Stephens. I need to have you sign for it.” He held up an envelope with a postal service form of some sort attached to it.
    Ed reached for it, along with the pen Rick offered, noticing Rick’s strong-looking hands and thinking that the dark hair on his hands and wrists hinted at much more to be found under Rick’s well-fitting uniform. Hairy, too. Can ya believe it?
    “Sure,” said Ed. “Won’t you come inside for a moment?” He had rehearsed that line over and over.
    The mailman nodded and stepped inside. Ed put what he hoped was a friendly grin on his face. He took a few steps to an end