Lance

by Ronald L Donaghe

  Of course, I’m realizing this as I write in this journal. All that didn’t hit me when it was happening.

  I’ve read this over, and I don’t mean to sound so judgmental and maybe even superior to Dick. I understand the pent-up frustration that finally having sex can release, and which makes you want to keep doing it till you’re raw and sore. It was like that for me with Lance, and maybe it was the same for him, because we sure went at it a lot at first, only now diminishing to once and sometimes twice a night.

  It’s just now Saturday morning. With the harvest finished and nothing to do to prepare the fields, since Mama said we’re going to sell out, I woke up lazily and didn’t worry about getting out of bed. I still woke up at five, and after Lance woke up, we just lay there kissing and staring into each other’s eyes and talking about last night with Dick and Casey.

  He laughed about it this morning—us putting on the show for them. Of course we didn’t know they were watching us, and when we realized it, we both deflated fast.

  “I hope you didn’t hurt Dick’s feelings,” Lance said. “You kind of sounded angry at him.”

  “I was, Lance. Geez. It made it kind of…”

  “Dirty?” he asked.

  “Well…no…not dirty because with you, it’s always been so beautiful. But it’s also always been private.”

  “Still,” he said. “I think I need to talk things out with Dick. Let him know he’s got the rest of his life to get used to it.”

  I knew what Lance was saying, because it kind of echoed what I had been thinking as he and I lay there, this morning. “He’s just into the sex part, right now. Is that what you mean?”

  “Kind of, Angel. I remember when you and I first knew we were going to make love. You wouldn’t do it in the pickup. You wouldn’t do it in the barn.” He laughed, his languid laughter deep-throated, which never fails to turn me on and make me just want to hug him to me. “You just had to be in bed.” I had my right arm under Lance’s neck, and he turned his head so that his breath tickled my cheek. “Right?” he asked.

  I rolled him to me, felt his thighs against my own, felt his warmth, felt us both throbbing down there. “Right,” I said, beginning to tongue his lips. “And I’m glad we waited like that. But you’re right. I know what Dick is going through, and we both need to let him know what he did last night was all right. I was kind of angry. But not now.”

  “Then you want to go parking with them again?” This time Lance’s voice went up in a question, and there was mocking in it, a challenge.

  “No. This time I think you and me ought’a watch them. Since you’re the experienced one, you can teach them things they may not have thought of. Like you’ve been teaching me.”

  “They’ll have to discover it for themselves,” Lance said, tonguing me back, and pressing himself against me.

  We disappeared under the covers, pulling the blanket up over our heads, and did a little steaming up of our own. This time the smells permeating the air were of our familiar body scents, the particularly sweet mustiness of our sex, the rest of the day promising nothing but being with each other in our new-found freedom from the demands of the farm.

  Eleven

  Dirty Talk

  Mama was right. I never knew how tired and used up I was until it was coming up on Christmas and I realized I didn’t have to get up early before school to get the disk and plow ready, and sleeping in until six in the morning was a luxury.

  In fact, I was eager to wrap up my classes with unaccustomed enjoyment. Though my grades had never slipped, as they had my freshman year, I was suddenly on fire and spent hours in the evenings doing my homework with the same kind of heat Lance poured into his painting.

  And with football season over, Casey, Dick, Lance, and I did go out together, again and again. We were truly becoming the gay brothers Dick had talked about. But we didn’t have any more of those late-night make-out sessions in front of each other. I chalk it up to the fact that both Dick and Casey had been a lot more drunk than Lance and I were that night, and they probably wouldn’t have thought to watch us, otherwise. I realized that was one of the things Daddy always had against drinking. People were more apt to do things when they’re drunk that they would never do sober.

  But Lance forced all four of us into what was at first embarrassing talks about being gay and having sex. He did it because he wanted Casey and Dick to think about things; but he also did it because he knew a few little secrets that he’d shown me, and he wanted them to enjoy their time together. So as I had playfully suggested that morning after we had all gone out parking, Lance did instruct them, amazed that even though Casey had been abused by his brothers, but especially Rick, they had more or less just pawed at him, like adolescent boys might paw at their girlfriends, and hadn’t really done more than penetrate him. “It hurt like hell,” Casey admitted, “except a few times.”

  So Lance shared our secret of glycerin and rosewater with them, and one day after that, we were talking about it during lunch, and Dick and Casey both looked goofy-happy, from what must have been a night of real love-making, which made us all laugh, until we realized that some of our graphic talk was getting out of hand because, when Stephen Zumwalt passed by our table with a nasty look, Casey almost went white with fear.

  “Do you think he heard? Do you? Do you know what they’d do to me at home if they thought—”

  So we all tried to cool it after that. Only seeing how uncomfortable Casey looked, I can’t help but think that he would have it a lot harder than me or even Lance if Rick ever really knew his baby brother was gay. So I hope nothing ever comes of what Stephen might have heard.

  Twelve

  Transitions

  Just a couple of days before Christmas, May announced that she was moving out by the end of the month. Mama didn’t seem to be distressed or anything. And I knew why. We would all be moving out when Lance graduated at the end of next year, so knowing that May was going to have a place before then was really more of a comfort than something to worry over or be sad about.

  “Are you moving in with Kelsey Snow?” I asked May when we were alone. It was an odd sort of day, kind of cloudy but warm for December. May and I were out at the barn. She was getting a look at where she and I had spent so much time with Daddy. In fact, she was walking all over that morning. I think she was trying to burn the place into her memory. Of any of the girls, May came closer than her sisters to really loving this place, and much of her own sweat had gone into making it work.

  She didn’t answer my question right away about where she was moving. Instead, she ran her hand along one of the tractor tires as we passed by the old International Harvester. “Would you mind too much, Will, if I took Daddy’s tools? You’re not going to need them, are you?”

  For a moment my stomach wrenched with sadness. I hadn’t thought of the personal things like Daddy’s tools that would be scattered and lost forever, once we sold the farm. “Of course not. I’m not going to need them when I go to college. And I’m sure Mama wouldn’t mind.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’m moving in with Kelsey, if you must know.”

  I was a little hurt with the way she put it. “Come on, May, you don’t have to be so secretive with me, do you? You don’t think I know what it is between you and Kelsey?”

  She stopped in her tracks, and turned to face me fully. Her look reminded me of the hot-tempered sister, the freckle-faced tomboy, the same sister who had gone with me over to Playas to pick up Lance the night he told his parents he was leaving. Her eyes flared, and then she kind of smiled sadly. “It’s not you, Will. It’s not me, either. Kelsey is a basket case when it comes to people finding out, and I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone. She’s been freaked to see the way people treated you and Lance.”

  “Well, then you guys should pack up and leave Hachita. What’s here that you just have to stay?”

  At this, May smiled more like she wasn’t angry or sad. “The Snow ranch. Will it’s absolutely beautiful.
Half of it’s in New Mexico, and the other half is in Arizona. She’s the only child, and she’s going to inherit it. Her parents are old, and even if Kelsey has to work to help pay the taxes, she’s going to hang onto it. Who knows, one of these days, we might turn it into a resort. It’s got pine forests and a lake and these old Indian ruins. There’s nobody around for miles.”

  I was surprised. May had never said boo about Kelsey’s family, and I had never asked. But I respected Kelsey’s fear, I guess. I didn’t know how May was going to handle having to be so secretive—not that she was reckless like me, but she was pretty independent and opinionated. I didn’t think Kelsey would get away for long telling her she couldn’t do this or that. My mouth watered, however, at the thought of her one day living on all that land. Especially land like the Snow ranch covered. The stunning thing about this southwestern part of New Mexico is its hidden treasures. People pass through here, through the desert part, and keep right on driving, probably thinking it’s all harsh desert. People who have lived here all their lives just smile and keep their secrets.

  * * *

  Even though Daddy hadn’t even been dead six months and we all missed him, with Lance in our lives, Christmas this year was one of the most joyous I ever remember. Julianne and Marsha called that morning and spoke to all of us, saying how they wished they could be there, since it was the first Christmas without Daddy, but they just couldn’t. I didn’t expect them to come. They never did. It was Lance’s and my first Christmas together, and I had gone all out to make it special for him. But so had the girls and Mama. Mama took money out of savings and bought him a bunch of clothes. May and the girls had bought him cologne and socks and even some oil paints and canvases, and I had pitched in with other art supplies. But the most important for him was I had gone over to Deming one day while he was finishing up a painting he’d been working on for his art class. I bought us wedding bands. I debated with myself about presenting them to him along with the rest of the gifts, but I decided it was going to be special, if not completely secret, so I waited until after we’d all opened gifts before I sprung them on him.

  Lance had done portraits of the girls and Mama, and me, and everybody got similarly wrapped packages from him. I felt tears welling up in my eyes at his embarrassment when his presents just kept piling up and he seemed afraid that we wouldn’t like what he’d done for us. But that changed as soon as Mama opened her present from Lance. He had painted her from memory. No one knew he was doing portraits of the family, and yet, what he captured on canvas was remarkable, since he had painted them from memory, just as he had painted one of me when he was on his trip to northern New Mexico. Anyway, Mama burst into tears when she saw herself, so delighted she started crying and laughing, and asking us, “do I really look as good as this?” We all told her she did, didn’t she know that? And yet, Lance had also captured her older age, without flinching from the wrinkles, but he had also captured Mama’s inner self, so that her eyes crinkled not only with age as she looked out from the canvas, but with the kind of compassion and love Lance felt coming from her. He did the same with each of the girls. He captured Rita’s seeming sense of style and the pride she took in her appearance. He revealed Trinket’s playfulness and her intelligence. Trinket wanted to be a veterinarian or a doctor, and Lance had painted her reading a book, her eyes gazing intently at what she was reading, her mouth turned up in a young girl’s smile. May was looking out from her portrait, freckles and all, but had never looked so handsome and competent.

  I was surprised that Lance had given me a look that I felt was only inside me and not something the world sees. He made me look boyish and tough, but also revealed how I really saw myself. I can’t describe it. I almost looked too soft, I guess, or as I used to think of Uncle Sean as pretty. I can feel heat rise to my face as I write this. I’m not trying to be vain. But inside, I do feel pretty. I was pleased that Lance brought it out in my face, much better than photos of me ever turned out.

  So up onto the bookshelf next to the TV went all five paintings, and for a moment I felt sad that there wasn’t one of Lance up there with the rest of us. But he was grinning from ear-to-ear, pleased that everyone liked his gifts.

  Then, when we had picked up all the paper and ribbons and gifts, I took Lance to our room and sat him down on the bed, making him close his eyes. I sat down next to him with our rings in my hand. I took his right hand in mine, still with his eyes closed, though I could see him trying to see through his lashes, and kind of grinning. Then I placed my ring in his palm.

  “Open your eyes,” I said, getting a kick out of watching the expression of confusion, then understanding, light his face as he saw the ring.

  “But I didn’t get you one, Will! I didn’t know you were—”

  I kissed him on the mouth to shut him up and opened my palm for him to see. “This is your ring. That’s mine,” I said, indicating the one in his hand.

  So, we went through a little wedding ceremony, right then, placing the rings on each other’s ring finger of the right hand, laughing hysterically, when Lance said, in his best southern drawl, “I now pronounce us Mr. and Mr. Barfett!”

  “Or Sur-Barn,” I said.

  “Or Nett-fett,” he said, without missing a beat.

  Then we collapsed on the bed, laughing. But in a moment he sat up, his face serious, looking me in the eyes with his own. They were a beautiful, untroubled violet. He took my hands in his and we entwined our fingers. “Whatever we call ourselves from now on doesn’t matter. Just that we’re two guys who love each other.”

  He looked embarrassed and thoughtful, and I felt the same. It wasn’t a light moment for us. We had always made love desperately, many times with tears, and we had given each other bruised lips with the intensity with which we smashed them together, as if any minute we might be torn apart. Maybe it was the same with other people who loved each other. But I remember, even now, how Uncle Sean talked about his intense, though short, love with Theodore Seabrook, and how they were crazy for each other, and when they were apart, almost insane. That’s how I felt about Lance, and I know that’s how he felt about me.

  Nothing would ever change that. I could see us as eighty-year-old men and breaking each other’s fragile bones because we just couldn’t help it as we clung tightly to each other.

  * * *

  Uncle Sean showed up the day after Christmas, the way he had done so many years before. It was almost like that first time, too, because when I went into the kitchen for breakfast, having slept in till almost seven, there he was talking to Mama and drinking coffee, his blond hair even more ragged than it was the first time I saw him, and when he turned in his chair and pierced my heart with those beautiful pale-blue eyes and smiled at me with those soft pink lips, I felt a sob start way down in my guts and tears spring to my eyes.

  “Uncle Sean!”

  “Hey, Will! How’s it going?” he said, rising as I came up to him.

  In an instant, we were hugging, hard arms around each other’s backs, slapping each other’s shoulders. Then we pulled away and grinned at each other. Damn, but he looked even better than before.

  And I told him so. He appraised me and seemed speechless, then exclaimed, “you’re all grown up!” as if he were surprised.

  I caught Mama’s face a second after we pulled apart, and though she was smiling, she was watching us with something going on behind her eyes. It was just a split-second kind of thing, and in a moment I was at the counter, pouring my coffee, feeling kind of embarrassed to be only in my Levi’s and barefoot. And one other thing. I was still getting used to wearing my wedding band in front of the family, and even though nobody had said anything about it, I could tell that the girls were a little curious. I didn’t know what Mama was feeling about it; she had chosen not to say. So, when I sat down across the corner of the table from Uncle Sean, I tried not to act nervous. But he noticed the ring and raised his eyebrows.

  Mama had turned back to the counter and was dishing up some eg
gs and bacon for me and Uncle Sean.

  He smiled at me, and I told him softly, “we put them on, yesterday. I’ve never forgotten those guys we saw at the movies in Deming, remember?”

  “No, Will. I haven’t forgotten, either. Not them, not the movie, not anything.” The way he said it, I knew he was talking about the time we kissed in the car.

  “Me neither,” I said. Then it struck me. “What…what brings you here?”

  By this time Mama had set our plates in front of us and had retreated to her end of the table with her coffee and cigarettes.

  Uncle Sean glanced at his sister, then back at me. “As I was telling Arlene, Will, I just graduated with my business degree, and I’m heading out to Austin, Texas. I got a job with a new electronics company. It’s a ground floor kind of thing.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I was glad to see him, but a little disturbed about his leaving California. I had spent many nights dreaming about me and Lance moving out to San Francisco. I had read about Berkeley, had seen the anti-war protests on TV, had seen the hippies—all that. It was such a different kind of life, it had seemed unreal to me, but had also seemed like a kind of paradise for me and Lance. Uncle Sean had often told me about areas, there, where gay men congregated, where he had met his last boyfriend. So, with his announcement that he was moving to Texas, I began to wonder about a lot of things. Things I couldn’t talk about in front of Mama.

  My thoughts were interrupted, however, when Lance came into the kitchen. Like me, he was shirtless and barefoot. He kind of stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Uncle Sean, though I don’t think he knew for sure if it was Uncle Sean. Clear as a glint of sunlight on a windshield, his wedding band caught the light pouring into the kitchen from the east window.