Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
“What do you want to do today?” Rod finished his last bite of breakfast toast.
“Is there someplace you want to show me that we missed?” Wyl began rinsing the dishes.
“How about we stroll through Chinatown today?” Rod set the coffee mugs beside the sink. “It might be busy on a Saturday, but the area is definitely on the list for anyone who has not been to San Francisco.”
“Sounds good to me. I served in China briefly in my Marine days, so I am familiar with the culture.”
“There are lots of interesting shops in Chinatown. Things you won’t see anywhere else, and some pretty weird stuff too.”
“You can keep the weird stuff.” Wyl put the last plate in the dishwasher. “I’m not very adventurous, so don’t count on me to try anything strange.”
“Oh, I don’t know…you seemed pretty adventurous during that guitar lesson…and as I recall, you tried things you never tried before,” Rod teased.
“I went out on a limb, I found you so attractive, and your unexpected kiss tasted amazing.”
“Better than chicken-foot soup?” Rod laughed.
“Better than grilled scorpions or fried shrimp heads.” Wyl laughed and led Rod into the bedroom to shower and change for the day.
* * *
They left the condo at 11:00 and headed to Chinatown.
They persuaded another gay couple to take a photo of them at the Chinatown Gate with Rod’s phone.
Of course, they were recognized and had to chat.
The other couple was from Houston, and so were fellow Texans.
They signed the copy of The Advocate that the Houston guys had, and wished them well.
Then strolled up the street, people-watching and browsing the shops.
“This is a unique part of the city,” Wyl said. “It’s like we stepped into a different world.”
“That’s what is so amazing about San Francisco.” Rod admired a scarf on a rack outside a shop. “Such variety all crammed into a densely populated city. I wouldn’t want to live here, but it’s a favorite place to visit.”
“And how about these weird food markets?” Wyl stopped in front of a seafood shop and peered in the window. “I don’t even know what most of this stuff is.”
“You and me, both.” Rod thumbed toward the entrance. “Let’s go in and ask.”
The shop had a distinctive, and not altogether pleasant, fishy odor. Rod pointed to the display case. “What is this weird stuff? I don’t recognize any of it. You want to try something?”
“Not me.” Wyl shook his head. “I prefer meat that moos, baas, clucks, or quacks…and if it comes from the water, it better include fins or shells. I see nothing that meets those criteria.”
“You want to taste?” the Oriental gentleman behind the counter asked.
“What are these?” Rod pointed to a tray of small, gray-colored objects that resembled pods from a science fiction movie.
“Those baby squid,” the man said, reaching for one using a wax paper square. He held it above the display case so Rod could get a better look.
“Are they eaten raw?” He’d eaten some weird stuff on his travels, but never raw squid. He ate calamari in restaurants, both the circular variety and the strips. It was good, but fried.
The man nodded. “Mostly sliced in sushi, but some people eat it raw by itself.”
“Do you have any sliced?” That sounded almost like the fried calamari Rod had enjoyed.
The man put the squid on a cutting board and carved a piece, offering it to Rod.
“Should I?” Rod glanced at Wyl.
“Knock yourself out. Just don’t expect me to join you.”
He took the slice of baby squid. “Are you sure I can eat it raw?”
The man nodded.
Rod popped it in his mouth. One bite, and his face developed an expression like he had tasted a rotten lemon dipped in rancid dog pee.
“Mapkim,” he mumbled as loud as he could, shaking his hands wildly at the napkin dispenser atop the counter, avoiding mouth movement.
Wyl took a few napkins from the dispenser and handed them to Rod.
He promptly spat out the squid. “God, that tasted awful.” He grabbed more napkins and swabbed out his mouth. “Remind me not to try anything else.”
The man behind the counter laughed and jabbered something in a foreign tongue to the other person behind the counter. She laughed, too.
“Thanks for the taste,” Rod scowled. Apparently, playing jokes on the visitors was funny. They left the shop.
“Do you need something to drink?”
“Boy howdy!” Rod said. With the horrid taste still in his mouth, he kept the unpleasant expression. “Let’s find a beer or something. Vesuvio is up the street at Columbus. Let’s go have a drink.”
They hurried out of the shop and walked up the street, then through an alley lined with wall art, to find Vesuvio, made famous by Jack Kerouac in the 1960s.
Inside, Wyl stood in awe. The bar remained unchanged for 50 years, retaining the charm of the hippie era.
Dark woods and retro signage adorned the interior.
The relaxed, quaint atmosphere made it the perfect place for Rod to recover from the trauma of foul-tasting seafood.
A popular tourist stop, the bar was less crowded before mid-afternoon.
Wyl motioned to an open booth along the wall. “This okay?”
“Looks good to me,” Rod said.
The server approached, and they ordered a beer.
“This place is unbelievable. It’s like stepping back in time.” Wyl said.
“Our parents would have loved it.” Rod took a paper napkin and swabbed his tongue again. “They would have been in their late teens when this bar became popular.
“I still wonder if the Sterlings and the Bonners knew each other. It seems likely, based on that rodeo banner you spied in Blackfield.”
The schooners of beer arrived. Rod drank half of his schooner at once, then breathed a relieved sigh. “I’ll remember that awful taste for years. Don’t you dare mention the word squid to me ever again!” Rod smirked, one eyebrow raised.
“Squid squid squid squid squid,” Wyl joked, jabbing Rod in the ribs.
Rod jerked to the side, away from Wyl’s tickling finger. “Shut up, Wylton.”
They finished their beer, then strolled back down Grant Avenue through Chinatown. Rod hoped to find a souvenir, but nothing caught his eye.
“What do you want to do about dinner?” Wyl asked as they strolled along the crowded street. The noises of shoppers combined with the odd aromas of Chinese cooking assaulted their senses.
Rod stopped walking. “I’m feeling a bit tired. Why don’t we go back to the condo and enjoy an evening in? We can prepare a light supper and catch up on our rest.”
“Whatever you want, babe.”
Strolling back through the main Chinatown gate and down to Market, they caught a trolley to 7th Street, then walked two blocks to their building.
Back in the condo, they stowed their purchases and kicked off their shoes to relax.
“Martini?” Wyl motioned to the bar.
“You bet. We have vac-pac lamb chops from the Farmer’s Market in the freezer. I’ll get those out and thaw them in a water bath. You can grill the chops, I’ll roast potato wedges in the oven, and we’ll toss a salad. How does that sound?”
“Sounds perfect.” Wyl pulled Rod into an embrace. “I love you.”
Rod snaked his arms around Wyl’s waist. “I love you, too, baby. You are everything to me.”
Wyl mixed the martinis while Rod worked on supper. They enjoyed a relaxing meal with a perfect cabernet from the wine rack. As they cleaned up the dinner dishes, Rod said, “Let’s find a good movie and spend the evening snuggling on the reclining loveseat.”
“I can’t think of a more perfect evening. I love snuggling with my husband. I remember how wonderful it felt the first time I wrapped my arms around you. You smelled so good, and I got carried away.”
“Some guitar lesson that turned out to be,” Rod laughed. “We need to finish that lesson someday. Maybe this time we should do it in the nude.”
“That would save some time,” Wyl chuckled. “Of course, if you actually want to learn to play the guitar, we probably should do it wearing armor.”
“Tell you what,” Rod said. “You play the guitar, and I’ll play the piano, and we’ll have sex whenever we want.”
Wyl walked up behind Rod and wrapped his arms around Rod’s waist. “How about we do it nude?”
“It will be a short session,” Rod chuckled.
They finished cleaning up, and Rod poured the last of the cabernet into their glasses. “Ready for that movie?”
“After you.”
They watched two movies, but exhaustion overcame them by ten o’clock. They turned off the TV and wandered into the bedroom to prepare for bed. Rod’s face had tiredness written all over it, so Wyl curled up with him in his arms.
“I love you, Rod Sterling,” Wyl whispered.
“I love you too, Wyl Sterling.”