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  OUTSIDE THE

  CRYSTAL BUBBLE

  A Novel By

  Michael Powers

  N O T I C E

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Copyright @ Michael Powers 2019

  “Life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it.”

  ― Charles R. Swindoll

  Outside The Crystal Bubble

  Chapter 1

  “You’re positive you want to do this?” Eldon asked his best friend.

  Nodding slowly, Peter assured Eldon he knew what he was doing. “I’ve given this a lot of thought. Buried my husband. Sold our business. Listing my home for sale tomorrow. Time to move on while I still have the strength and energy.”

  “But moving from San Diego to Omaha?” Eldon whispered, as if challenging Peter’s sanity. “You remember why we left there after we graduated from UNO, right?”

  “Yes,” Peter chuckled. “The winters were brutal and the gay community was microscopic. We dreamed of living by the ocean, wearing shorts and flip-flops all year, and being part of a much larger LGBT community. I enjoyed all that San Diego has to offer for several decades, but a lot has changed.”

  “You don’t like San Diego anymore?” Eldon frowned.

  “It’s not that,” Peter insisted. “Look, it’s been years since I actually went to the beach. Really doesn’t matter where I live as long as I have central air and heat. Now that Dusit is gone, all the couples we socialized with are drifting away.”

  “No!” Eldon squawked. “Jerry and I still see you just as often.”

  “Really?” Peter smiled. “I ran into Larry and Roy at the grocery store yesterday. Said they had a lovely time at your dinner party last Saturday.”

  “Dammit,” Eldon muttered. “It was a last minute thing. Promise it won’t happen again.”

  “It’s all right,” Peter laughed, patting Eldon’s arm fondly. “I understand. Nobody wants a single guy at the table with a bunch of married couples. I don’t want to be that pathetic widower who gets the occasional pity dinner invitation. The guy everyone fears offending because he might rush out of the room in tears.”

  “That’s not how we think of you!” Eldon protested.

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how uncomfortable our friends are around me,” Peter scolded Eldon. “They can’t ask how Dusit or the business are anymore. Without those two anchors in my life, our friends are at a loss for words.”

  “They’ll come around, Peter,” Eldon assured him. “Give them a little more time.”

  “Eldon, you’re my oldest and dearest friend. I appreciate your effort to spare my feelings, but I’m not blind. I watched what happened when my mother became a widow. For a few months after the funeral, all her married friends offered their support, and then quietly disappeared. She was no longer invited to dinner parties, theater trips, and other outings. So she made new friends. Mostly other widows who lost their membership in couples-only groups soon after their husbands died. Mom’s social life consisted of bridge and coffee dates with her widowed friends. I’ve seen the same thing happen to gay men who lose their partners here. If I have to start over again, I want to do it in another city.”

  “But why Omaha?” Eldon frowned. “Why not LA or San Fran? Someplace within driving distance so we can still see each other regularly. Someplace with good weather.”

  “I considered those cities and others in California,” Peter admitted. “LA and San Fran are too big, crowded, and expensive. The cost of a home in a good neighborhood is more than I want to spend. I’m not sure I want to be anywhere in California. Did you know medieval diseases are making a comeback here?”

  “Seriously?” Eldon scowled. “Which ones?”

  “Typhus, hepatitis A, tuberculosis, shigellosis, and trench fever to name a few,” Peter replied. “All diseases found where there are unhealthy living conditions. Combine human urine, feces, a large rat population, garbage, and a growing homeless population and the result is infectious disease. Last year more than half a million Americans were considered permanently homeless, and a quarter of them are in California.”

  “That shouldn’t impact us,” Eldon argued. “We live in a clean, safe area. The nearest homeless people are miles away from us.”

  “Doesn’t make any difference where the homeless actually live,” Peter insisted. “When an infected person sits on a park bench or uses a public restroom they leave behind easily transferred bacteria. People in Beverly Hills are getting sick after touching infected surfaces in hospitals, government buildings, fast food joints, and other public facilities.”

  “Guess I should be more careful,” Eldon conceded, vaguely aware of news reports regarding the increasing number of health emergencies. “All those things are treatable, right?”

  “Probably, but diseases tend to mutate,” Peter nodded. “There are other reasons to leave California, but the high cost of living is at the top of my list. I can buy a whole town in Georgia for the same amount I’d pay for a median-priced home in San Fran.”

  “What?” Eldon squawked.

  “It’s true,” Peter laughed. “Some guy bought most of the property in a small Georgia town about a hundred miles from Atlanta. Includes a bank, restaurant, train depot, and barber shop. All abandoned of course. He ran out of money trying to turn it into a tourist attraction, so he listed it all for sale. I’m not really interested in fixer upper homes or towns.”

  “Count me out, too,” Eldon chuckled.

  “New York is even more outrageous,” Peter continued. “People are paying $2,000 a square foot for Manhattan condos. Some guy recently paid a quarter of a billion dollars for a condo in one of those new high-rise towers. If I moved there, I could barely afford a closet.”

  “That’s crazy!” Eldon gasped.

  “More than crazy,” Peter replied. “It’s dangerous. When we were growing up, homes of the wealthiest Americans cost fifty times the average. Today the wealthiest Americans have homes costing a thousand times the average. Even worse, they have several of them! Meanwhile tent cities are springing up in public parks in New York and LA. Thousands of couples with two minimum wage incomes can’t find affordable housing, so they live in tents. If the past is any guide to the future, this kind of inequity usually leads to an angry, extremely violent outburst. Villagers racing through the streets with torches and pitchforks. I’d prefer to be far away from ground zero when it happens. Either New York or California will be ground zero. Maybe both.”

  “What about the desert?” Eldon asked. “Phoenix, Tucson, Palm Springs, and Vegas are all nearby and more affordable.”

  “Never cared for the desert,” Peter scowled. “Rising temps are making the Southwest more unbearable each year. Southeast is too rainy and humid. Rockies have brutal winters and I don’t like driving in the mountains. Climate change is making life on both U.S. coasts miserable. Last year storms and wildfires did $100 billion of property damage, with most of it in only six states. All of them border an ocean. California. Florida. Texas. The Carolinas. New York. Insurance industry and government experts agree the problem is serious and getting worse each year.”

  “No desert. No coastal states. No swamplands. No mountains. That only leaves the Midwest,” Eldon concluded.

  Nodding, Peter said, “I’m looking f
or a place that’s affordable and friendly. Somewhere my home isn’t likely to be destroyed by a quake, hurricane, tsunami, volcano, or wildfire. A place with an infrastructure that isn’t crumbling. Coincidentally, that’s also what many millennials are looking for. They’re fleeing the four C’s of both coasts.”

  “The four C’s?” Eldon scowled.

  “Crime, climate change, crowding, and cost of living. That’s why millennials are flocking to cities like Austin, Memphis, Sioux Falls, Omaha, and Des Moines. Smaller, more affordable, interior cities. Places offering reasonable employment, shopping, and entertainment choices. Somewhere they won’t be regulated and taxed to death while becoming house poor. When I considered my options, I picked Omaha because I’m already familiar with it. If I’m careful, I’ll never need to work again while I enjoy a very comfortable standard of living in Omaha.”

  “Have you forgotten Nebraska tornadoes, blizzards, and floods?” Eldon asked softly.

  “Nope,” Peter replied quickly. “I checked on-line and there are some very sturdy, recently updated, high-rise condo buildings downtown Omaha. They’ve withstood snow, water, and high winds for decades. I plan to get a unit on an upper floor and hunker down during bad weather. I might be a decade or two early, but I expect a mass migration from the coastal states inland. If I move now, I’ll beat the rush.”

  “Mass migration?” Eldon scowled.

  “Yup,” Peter nodded. “Climate scientists predict the coastal states will be unlivable in thirty years. Two of the safest places in the country will be Duluth, Minnesota and Rochester, New York. The migration to the West Coast which began during the Great Depression in the 1930s is about to reverse itself.”

  “All right,” Eldon conceded. “It’s obvious you’ve done your homework as usual. I don’t mean to sound harsh, but it’ll be difficult to find another husband in Omaha. The number of candidates will be smaller and you’re not getting any younger. We’ll both turn sixty next year.”

  Waving his hand in the air, Peter dismissed Eldon’s concern. “I’m not moving to Omaha to find Dusit’s replacement. We had a wonderful life together. Thirty years with only three serious disagreements. We visited his family in Thailand several times. Traveled all over Europe and Asia. Built a successful business together. Had a great sex life until his cancer diagnosis. I’ll be satisfied if I can find a couple guys I enjoy having dinner with on a regular basis.”

  “Think that’s even possible?” Eldon frowned.

  “Sure!” Peter laughed. “I’ve already identified a half dozen suitable condo complexes downtown Omaha. They’re all within walking distance of a gay church, gay 12-step meetings, and a couple gay bars. Metro Omaha has a population approaching a million. The median home price is a third what it is in San Diego. With what I clear from the home and business sales here, in Omaha I can live like one of the lesser Saudi princes.”

  “Shouldn’t you wait to sell your home here until you’re certain moving to Omaha is what you want?” Eldon cautioned.

  Peter shrugged. “Even if I stay in San Diego, I don’t want a big house. That was more Dusit’s thing than mine. He loved having a large flower garden and puttering in the yard. Always needed several guestrooms for his visiting relatives. I prefer condo living. Less space and no maintenance. A big house has been a great investment. It’s worth four times what we paid for it which is frankly an obscene amount of appreciation. Once I sell my home, I’m going to drive to Omaha and rent a place for a month to see how I like it. It’s probably changed a lot since we graduated from the University of Nebraska.”

  “Remember the winter when snowplows kept blocking our apartment parking lot?” Eldon snickered. “We couldn’t drive our cars for a week.”

  “I remember,” Peter grinned.

  “When the furnace quit working in our apartment building in January, we had to turn the gas stove on high to keep the temp above 60 so we wouldn’t freeze to death while we slept,” Eldon reminded him.

  “Yes, I remember,” Peter chuckled. “Thank God those days are behind us. Now that I’m retired I can afford to sit in my luxurious condo in front of my wood-burning fireplace until the snow melts. If I keep a well-stocked pantry and fridge, and make sure my cable and phone bills are paid, I’ll be fine.”

  Something else occurred to Eldon. “As I recall, you had a huge crush on one of your tennis teammates. You’re not going back to Omaha to see if you can spark some interest from him, are you?”

  “Naw, we slept together once. I still thought he was hot, but I got the distinct impression I wasn’t really his type. He probably moved to New York, married money, and has random hookups with male strippers. I’m sure he’s well on his way to his first coronary by now. No, I’m not going back to re-connect with Tom.”

  Gazing at Peter for several moments, Eldon confessed he was a little envious. When Peter asked why, Eldon replied, “You’ve aged much better than I have. Still as toned and trim as you were in college. Your salt-and-pepper hair with that lean look makes you very attractive to a certain segment of the younger gay community.”

  “You’re assuming that’s my target market,” Peter smirked. “Honestly, I wouldn’t know what to talk about with anyone under thirty-five. Don’t think they talk anyway. It’s all texting and tweets now.”

  “Who says you need to talk?” Eldon teased, scratching his bald head.

  “Not looking for a gold digger either,” Peter growled.

  “With your financial security and good looks, everything you need is right here in San Diego. There’s no reason to leave, Peter.”

  “Yes there is,” Peter replied softly. “Dusit and I discussed what would happen after he died. He didn’t want me to be one of those guys who keeps setting two places at the table long after his spouse is gone. Referring to a dead partner in the present tense like he’s still alive. I promised Dusit I wouldn’t spend the rest of my life being the grieving husband. We both agreed it’d be easier to start over in a new location. New home. New surroundings. New friends. New interests. I’ve done my grieving, Eldon. It’s time to get on with my life in a new location.”

  In a husky voice, Eldon said, “I’m gonna miss you, Peter. We’ve been best friends since college. You were with me in the best and worst moments of my life. Coming out to my family. Sitting next to me at graduation. Best man at my wedding. Pallbearer for both my parents. Wish I could think of a way to keep you here, but I can see your mind is made up. Will you promise to stay in touch?”

  Rising to hug his best friend, Peter smiled. “Always,” he whispered. “We can still chat or text daily. I’m not dying, Eldon. Just moving a couple hours away by plane.”

  Wiping tears from his eyes, Eldon hugged Peter. “I miss you already,” he whispered.

  “I hope those tears aren’t for me,” Peter grinned. “I buried my parents and my husband. Sold my business. Have money in the bank. For the first time in my life I can go anywhere and do anything I want while I’m still healthy enough to enjoy myself. I have no commitments. No obligations. No debt. I’ve never been quite so free. Be happy for me, Eldon!”

  “I’ll try,” Eldon promised.

  Chapter 2

  After checking into his rental unit atop the 900 Building in downtown Omaha, Peter unpacked, showered, and changed clothes. He double-checked the address of the AA meeting, jotted down the directions, and headed to the parking garage.

  Peter was alarmed when he pulled into the church parking lot and only saw one other vehicle. He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes before the eight o’clock meeting started. He wondered if everyone arrived on foot or if there were a lot of people who chose to be fashionably late.

  As he entered the church an attractive young blond man approached Peter. Glancing around, Peter saw they were alone. “I’m here for an AA meeting,” Peter informed the handsome young blond. “Not sure I have the right place since this is my first time here.”

  “This is where we meet,” the young man assured him. “Unfortunately, we j
ust switched to our summer hours. Instead of meetings at six and eight, we only meet at six between Memorial Day and Labor Day since so many people leave town for the summer. How did you hear about this meeting?”

  “Googled gay AA meetings in Omaha and found the website,” Peter replied.

  “Ah, that explains it,” the young man nodded. “The guy who created the website died last year. Nobody remembers the password, so we have no way to update it. Hasn’t really been a problem since most people find us on Facebook. Just on my way out. It was my turn to clean and lock up tonight. Would you settle for coffee with me instead of a meeting?”

  Peter shrugged. “Sure. Big book says whenever two or more of us are together it’s a meeting. I’m Peter.”

  Extending his hand, the young man smiled. “I’m Adam. Nice to meet you, Peter. There’s a cafe right across the street if that’s okay. Or would you like to go somewhere else?”

  “Across the street is fine,” Peter replied as he followed Adam outside.

  Spotting the California license plate on Peter’s Mercedes, Adam asked if that was where he was from.

  “Yup. Just arrived. Went to school here many years ago. Thinking of moving back here.”

  “Welcome back,” Adam grinned. “And the first thing you chose to do when you got to Omaha was attend an AA meeting? I’m impressed, Peter!”

  “AA was an important part of our social life in San Diego,” Peter explained. “Sort of hoping to make AA part of my life if I relocate here.”

  “Is your partner or husband in recovery, too?” Adam asked as they entered the cafe.

  “He was in Al-Anon until he passed away,” Peter replied.

  “Sorry,” Adam murmured. “Recently?”

  “Last year,” Peter nodded.

  Instinctively reaching out, Adam stroked Peter’s arm. “I’m so sorry! Shame on me for asking so many questions.”