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The Old Man and the Willow
Buck can remember Maddie telling him lots of stories when they were kids, but one that really stuck was about an old man and a willow…
The tree had stood on the boy's family farm for as long as he could remember, benevolent but imposing, overseeing the meadow that came right up to the backyard behind the house. As a boy it was visible from his bedroom window, and he would look out at it every night and find comfort in the tree’s reliable presence. He imagined it as a formidable sentry, a foe that any adversary would quail before, capable of taking on an army of lesser beings, were they foolish enough to provoke its wrath. In times of challenge he was sure the great willow could, and would, pull up its roots, chase down the enemy, dispatch them, and be back in its regular corner by break of day. His entire childhood was spent in awe of that willow, and in the absence of a human role model, it came to represent all he knew about strength, hope, and resilience.
The boy grew up, as all boys do, but as a man his love for the tree never waned, not even when he lost his childish faith in the willow’s protective powers. He no longer truly believed it could shield him from all the pain in the world, he had been cut too deep by petty slights, but still he turned to that regal willow for comfort, and consolation in his darkest moments. Long after he fled from his childhood home, and no majestic guardian stood outside his window, the tree stayed in his thoughts, a magical ideal to combat the bite of reality. In the back of his mind it stood sentinel between him, and all those who sought to change him, bend him to their will, and remake him in their image.
Over the years away from the farm and his tree, the man made a good life for himself, in a city far away where he found the sort of acceptance he had longed for but wasn't sure existed. He surrounded himself with friends, unabashedly pursued his dreams, and was lucky enough to find true love. He was kind, valued substance over beauty, people over wealth, kept his heart and mind open, and never failed to appreciate each day, and the joy he had found. Unfortunately time is a predator to us all, with no exemptions, and everyone’s time in the sun must come to an end.
At long last, when the man could feel the shadow looming, his parents long passed, his friends dwindling, his lover taken from him too soon…he returned to the farm of his past to finish out his days. There, he could be found beneath the hanging branches of the great willow, whispering a private prayer of thanks for a lifetime that could only be counted as full. It was there too, under his tree, that the shadow caught up with him…and so his story ended, not far from where it began, in the embrace of his lifelong friend, at peace with where he had been, and unafraid of where he was going…
“Ok, wait! Am I right to say your sister told a child a symbolic story about a gay man who chose not live a lie?” Michael asked incredulous, not bothering to disguise his mirth. It didn’t matter because Buck was laying on his chest and could feel his shaking laughter.
“Hey!” Buck craned his neck to look up at his lover. “Maybe she already knew something I didn’t.” He gave Michael’s nipple a tweak. “There was more to it too, Maddie tells it better…I just always thought it would be nice to have a place like that, you know? A place that would always be home.”
Michael hugged him extra tight and pressed his lips to the top of his head. It might be too soon, but he already hoped that Buck would find that place with him. Home. “So, what about us coming clean? I’d like to tell people about us.”
Buck sat bolt upright in the bed, pulling out of Michael’s embrace. “Absolutely not! Your wife is terrifying, pretty sure she hates my guts already, without knowing about us, and on top of that we aren’t even exclusive yet…” Buck paused in getting up. “Are we?”
Michael propped himself up on one elbow, happy to watch Buck bend over to search through the mess of clothes on the floor.
“Well, I am.” Michael told him, matter of fact. “So I guess its up to you.”
Buck stood, completely naked, holding up a black pair of boxers. “Mine right?”
“You should know.” Michael raised an eyebrow. “Are you avoiding my question?”
Muttering under his breath, Buck yanked the underwear on and reached for his shirt.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Michael prompted, rolling out of bed on his own side. “Pass me my pants will you?”
The aforementioned pants were launched in his general direction and Buck responded tersely.
“I said, it wasn’t a question. Now where are my keys?” He whined.
Michael rolled his eyes where Buck couldn’t see, zipping his fly carefully because he hadn’t bothered with underwear. He was pretty sure Buck was wearing them anyway.
“You know I was looking for an answer.” He reminded, picking up Bucks keys from his nightstand, and tossing them on the bed. Buck snatched them up with triumphant sound, then gave Michael a penetrating stare.
“Dude, you still live at home most of the time. How can you say you’re ready?”
Michael pursed his lips, resting a hand on his hip. “That’s temporary, for the kids. It has nothing to do with us.”
“Look, I should go. I’ll be late for my shift.” Buck sidled around the bed to press himself against Michael’s chest. “No fighting, we’ll talk tomorrow? When I get off?”
Michael sighed wistfully. He would desperately like to have all of Buck, in his house, his bed, all the time. He didn’t want a dirty little secret to keep, he wanted to be in love, and for everyone to know it. It hurt that Buck may not want that too.
“Sure, babe. I’ll be right here.”
The next day Buck arrived at Michael’s apartment with none of his usual vibrant enthusiasm, smiles or chatter. He was quick to throw down his stuff and move into Michael’s arms, not with urgent kisses and probing hands though; tonight he wanted comfort, and Michael was sure he understood why.
“I saw the news,” he murmured into Buck’s hair. The breaking story had Buck pegged as a hero, which he was, but one man had died. He knew Buck well enough to know he needed to save everyone.
“He wouldn’t take my hand, Michael. It’s that simple.” Buck muttered into his shoulder. “Why not?”
“I don’t know.” Michael told him, honestly.
“I saw a therapist. Bobby said I should.”
Michael nodded, pressing his lips to the top of Bucks head. “Did it help?”
There was a long pause and Michael felt Buck tense. He held in a sigh, hoping against hope that Buck hadn’t slept with his therapist. Michael knew Buck would tell the truth, so he didn’t ask. He didn’t want to know.
“No.” Buck answered, definitively. “Being here, with you helps.”
Michael huffed a breath and suppressed the urge to point out that if being here helped, Buck wouldn’t always be so quick to leave again.
“Whatever you need.” Michael said, hugging him tighter. “We don’t even have to go out. I can cook.”
Buck appeared to think about it, without lifting his head. “No, we should go out. You like to go out.”
“I like to cook too.” Michael offered.
Buck shook his head emphatically. “No, let’s go out. Just…someplace quiet?”
“Sure,” Michael agreed. Someplace quiet, dark, where no one they knew would see them and maybe ask questions. That was what Buck wanted, so that was what they would do.
Someplace quiet turned out to be an out of the way steakhouse close to forty minutes from Michael’s condo. The food was good, the lighting was dim, and they were unlikely to accidentally run into anyone who might out them. All these things put Buck at ease, it seemed, and he brightened some, drinking beer, and consuming an impressive amount of free bread before they could even order. Michael tried not to be bothered by the secrecy, or the way Buck glanced around before taking his hand across the table. He at least had the decency to look sheepish.
“So, how was your day?” Buck asked, opening his menu, and adding, “I hope they don’t have those tiny portions rich people like. I’m starving.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Michael’s lips. “I’ll make sure you don’t starve.” He reassured the younger man. “My day was pretty average. Meetings, drawings, and planning permission. Any weekend plans?”
Michael would have the kids, which meant Buck would do his own thing, and Michael would try not to think about what exactly that was.
“Nah, I’m gonna cover at work. Fletcher is on leave so they’re short.” Buck focused on Michael, giving him a randy wink. “Sunday night? I can come over?”
“Anytime, Buck.” Michael promised, perusing his own menu, hoping Buck wouldn’t notice how desperately he was looking forward to Sunday now.
“You know,” Buck started, “you could come to my place instead. If you want.”
Michael thought that over. It was a big ask, an olive branch, and it meant Buck was more perceptive than Michael had given him credit for. It meant neighbors seeing them, possibly, or even friends dropping by. It was a risk for Buck, and while he appreciated the gesture, he didn’t want to force Buck into a situation he wasn’t comfortable with.
“Let’s stick with my place. I’ll cook for you.” He decided, giving Buck a half smile. “Maybe, next weekend we can do something in the world…you know, outside of bed.”
Buck squirmed uncomfortably, and as much as Michael hated to push him, he really would like Buck to decide what this was between them…just sex, more than sex, a real relationship…Michael knew what he wanted already.
“Like what?” Buck questioned. He sounded leery. “I’m not sure I know what you like to do.”
Michael nodded. He was pleasantly surprised that Buck hadn’t instantly shut him down. “Oh, you know art galleries, golf, snooty parties where no one sits down or eats, and if you want to drink you have to hold your glass the whole time.”
He laughed out loud at the look of horror on Buck’s face, then nudged his foot under the table. “I’m kidding, Buck. We could go hiking, maybe take a picnic…let’s see, there’s bowling, that might be fun. We can always catch a movie. Any of that, or all of it.”
Their eyes met, and Buck seemed to consider him seriously, though Michael couldn’t tell what conclusion he came to.
“Real couple things.” Buck stated finally.
Michael paused, thinking, then confirmed. “Yes. Real couple things.”
For a minute he thought Buck was going to change the subject, or bolt from the restaurant never to be seen again, but instead a slow smile spread across his face. “Real couple things…yeah, I think I’d like that.”
That conversation behind them, dinner was relaxed, with Buck rambling about his day, minus the roller coaster incident, which was a taboo topic for now. He tried to show some interest in Michael’s work too, but Michael knew the idea of spending most days at a desk was abhorrent to Buck. He craved excitement and thrived on the validation that came from rescuing people in their worst moments. He couldn't understand why Michael loved his job so much, but he did enjoy hearing the office and worksite dramas, like a firm partner sleeping with a contractor, disappearing sets of drawings, and mislabeled building supplies delivered to the parking lot of a pet store. They laughed loudly, stuffed themselves with steak, and used rock, papers, scissors to determine who would stay sober to drive the car home. Buck lost, as usual, but he was a good sport about it, hinting that he would be happy to see what an uninhibited Michael would be willing to do to him in bed later.
They had just sent the waiter to get their cheque, both men looking forward to the rest of the night together, when Michael’s phone rang. His eyes narrowed on the call display, their neighbour, and while Michael wouldn’t take time out from his date for an acquaintance, she sometimes watched the kids when Athena was late home from work.
“I have to take this,” Michael told Buck. “It’s our neighbour…I’m not sure, but sometimes she watches the kids.”
Buck waved a hand, accompanied by a non committal shrug. “Yeah, of course man.”
Michael shot him a grateful look for his understanding, then swiped to answer the call.
Buck watched the other man’s face change from curious, to concerned, to downright panicked as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line. He glanced up at Buck, then over his shoulder to where the waiter had disappeared, before assuring the caller that he was on his way and to try not to worry. Buck’s forehead creased with confusion.
Michael swallowed hard before he could speak again, and his wet eyes, and shaking hand gave away just how serious the call had been.
“That was Henry…It-it’s-May…God,” he managed to stutter. “He said an ambulance came, but he doesn’t know what happened. He’s terrified, and Athena told him to call.”
Buck’s jaw dropped, but he recovered admirably, shouting across the restaurant at their waiter to hurry the hell up. Receipt shortly in hand, Buck grabbed Michaels arm and dragged him to his feet. “Come on, I’ll get you there in no time. Which hospital?”
Buck was practiced at driving fast under pressure, and he knew all the best short cuts. He pulled up in front of the hospital in under ten minutes, after a harrowing drive that should have taken twenty. They got lucky with traffic, but still Michael was grateful, because he felt sick to his stomach, and he needed to be with his family.
Practically shoving him out the door, Buck promised to park the car, then find him to offer whatever support he could. Michael was so lost in his thoughts about just how bad the situation might be when he got inside the building, that he spared no thought to the problems Buck’s presence might cause.
The bustling emergency room, where he figured his daughter had been received by ambulance, a thought that made his blood run cold, was not exactly an easy place to navigate. At the desk he was told to wait, and after what seemed like forever, he was directed up several floors, where his daughter had been moved to ICU.
It was calmer upstairs, almost deserted, except for the handful of nurses standing outside of rooms monitoring the patients inside. Everyone had a purpose, and it was too late for families to be visiting, so Athena was the only person left pacing the hallway in front the main desk that served as the hub for the whole floor. Her hand was pressed to her forehead, her expression was pained, and her whole demeanor was more defeated than he had ever known his wife to be in fifteen years of marriage. It shook him, more than the call from Henry had, and he rushed toward her, praying there was something he could do to make everything better.
Michael’s footsteps alerted the ever-vigilant woman of his presence, and she turned glazed eyes on him as he approached. There was a time she would have let him hold her, offer some strength and comfort, but not today. Not after everything that had gone on between them over the last few months, and Athena simply gripped his wrists holding him at arm’s length when he got close.
“Athena, what’s up, you’re not answering your phone?” He tried to keep his tone neutral and not accusatory. He had tried several times on the ride over to contact her, but it always went to voicemail, and he was left to draw his own conclusions.
“I-oh-I rushed out so fast I forgot it. I’m sorry.” She stammered, so sincere he regretted any thoughts he might have had about her simply ignoring him.
“Ok, well what happened?” Michael prompted, looking around him as if he would see May standing there ready to explain.
“She took a bunch of pills.”
Michael isn’t sure he heard right, and he’s sure it shows on his face. “On purpose? Well…what did she take?” A stupid question all things considered.
“Hydrocodone.”
Athena’s pills then, he thought, but he said. “Ok, can we see her?”
Athena shook her head. “No, not yet. They said in half an hour or so maybe. I need to sit down, Michael.”
He gave himself a shake and took her arm to guide her into a chair. She let him without pulling away, and he sank heavily into the seat next to her.
“I shouldn’t have told them.” He said, not quite believing this was real yet. His daughter had tried to kill herself…and he was very likely to blame. “They weren’t ready.”
Athena doesn’t answer right away, looking away from him, down the long hallway, where somewhere their daughter was suffering.
“Did she seem this upset to you?” She asks eventually. “When was the last time we didn’t know what May was feeling, Michael?”
“Well…she’s a teenager now. Maybe we weren’t paying enough attention…I don’t know.” Michael stumbled over his words, guilt weighing on him.
Athena bit her lip to hold back a sob. “Let’s not do this now, ok?” She pleaded, leaning into him now, and letting him wrap her in his arms. They stayed like that until they heard someone approaching, and both of them looked up at the same time. Michael had forgotten about Buck, and Athena stiffened in his arms. He winced, knowing this was not the time to let her know who he had been seeing, but it was too late.
“Is he with you?” Athena sounded flabbergasted and confused in equal measure. “Him? The firefighting playboy who can’t stop trying to get himself killed? He’s with you? How the hell did you two even meet?”
Michael held up his hands, placatingly, wanting nothing more than to put off this discussion for another time. He can’t deny Buck though, not when he’s standing right there trying to help.
“Not now, Athena. We were out for dinner. He drove me here.” Michael told her, waving Buck closer. “He was worried about me.”
Athena scoffed turning away from him in her chair. He put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off.
“I wasn’t trying to make this harder-“ Michael started, but Athena cut him off.
“I’m gonna get a cup of coffee.” She decided, pushing herself to her feet.
“Ok…” Michael muttered, watching her get up and approach Buck purposefully.
“Athena, look I don’t mean to upset you. I just want to be here for Michael.” Buck tried, nervously.
Athena stared him down, assessing, and he shifted his feet uncomfortably. She nodded to herself, then brushed past Buck so close their shoulders touched, and retreated down the hall, giving no more clue as to what she was thinking.
Michael looked up to meet Buck’s eyes, feeling suddenly, extremely, exhausted. “Hey,” he smiled softly, “you should go babe. Take my car. We can get a ride.”
Buck’s face morphs through a series of conflicting emotions before settling on fiercely determined. Michael had seen that look before. Buck was immovable when he settled on an idea, and it was that stubbornness, or surety, that had him running into burning buildings even when the cause was lost.
“Like hell, Michael.” He moved to sit in the chair Athena just vacated. “I’m not leaving you.”
Michael raised his eyebrows, glancing to where his wife just disappeared, then back into Buck’s earnest face. “Oh, Buck.” He said, rubbing at the stubble on his face.
“No, Michael.” Buck said firmly. “You were the one who wanted to be exclusive. Did you mean just for sex?”
“What?!” Michael squeaked. “No! Of course not, Buck. I lo-I care about you. Deeply. This just maybe isn’t the time.”
Buck chewed at his bottom lip the way he did when he was thinking. “It’s the perfect time. How is May?”
“Alive, but it’s going to be a long road.” Michael said honestly. “She’s going to need me. So will Harry and Athena.”
Buck put a hand on Michaels thigh, giving a reassuring squeeze. “And you will need me.” It wasn’t a question. “Look, I don’t know much about relationships, but I know that you don’t leave your partner on his worst day. So, I’ll stay out of Athena’s sight if you want, but I’m not leaving. Not until we leave together.”
Michael sucked in a breath and swallowed the lump in his throat. He felt sorry for anyone, including Athena, who didn’t take the time to get to know Buck, because it was a crying shame to miss just how good he was.
“Thank you, Buck.” He whispered.