Men Who Love Men

by William J. Mann

  “You’re not a fool, Henry,” he tells me. “Not any more than any man who has ever searched for true love is a fool.”

  It’s the first time I’ve really appreciated how beautiful Martin’s eyes are. Oh, sure, Luke has said so, and I’ve acknowledged before that Martin was a handsome man. But only now, in the late afternoon sunlight, do I fully appreciate the beauty of his eyes. They’re not just blue. They’re iridescent, like a Siberian husky’s. Set into his craggy, unshaven face, Martin’s eyes glow.

  “I’ve been having some…romance confusion,” I admit. “There was this other guy…” I decide not to use Luke’s name. “And for a moment I thought there might be something happening between us, but I think I was wrong.”

  “You just think you were wrong?”

  I shrug. “How do you ever know for sure?”

  “Oh, you’ll know,” Martin says. “That’s the easy part. When you find the right guy, you’ll know it.”

  We’re walking again. “Well, if I’m not a fool, I’m a masochist. Always returning for more punishment.”

  Martin smirks. “Some men in this town would be happy to accommodate.”

  I laugh. “I don’t mean that kind. Though maybe what I do need is a good session with a belt across my butt to wake me up to some common sense.”

  “Stop, you’re getting me all excited.”

  We both laugh. “I keep going for all the wrong guys,” I tell Martin. “Even now, when I know Gale isn’t right for me, I still go after him. I don’t get it.”

  “Sometimes you’ve got to just make absolutely sure,” Martin says. “But if you’re still not sure after the third or fourth time, then I suspect you’re barking up the wrong pair of legs.”

  “Gale sure does have a nice pair,” I say.

  “That he does.” Martin hesitates, as if he’s trying to decide whether to say something. “Look,” he says finally, “I’ve gotten to know Gale in the past week since we’ve been working together. He’s a great guy. But I’m not sure he’s ready for a relationship.”

  “He thinks he is,” I say. “He thinks he’s more than ready, in fact, and it’s everybody else who’s not.”

  Martin shrugs. “I think the question is, are you ready, Henry?”

  Once again I stop walking. “No,” I say definitively. “I’m getting there, but I’m not quite ready.”

  Martin beams. “By admitting that, my friend, you’ve just taken one giant step toward actually being ready.”

  “It’s funny, because for so long, I was like Gale, assuming it was always the other guy’s fault, that I had all the answers, that if I could just find the right guy, I’d be all set.” I shake my head. “So when I kept falling down and failing, I couldn’t understand it.”

  “You may have been falling down, Henry, but you weren’t failing.”

  “Well, it sure felt that way.”

  Martin shakes his head. “You were simply gaining the experience and the skills and the knowledge you were going to need for when you actually do find the right guy.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “So you didn’t have all those things? Experience and skill and knowledge? Is that why your relationship ended?”

  Martin considers this. “I suppose I didn’t have all of those things when Paul and I got together. But I gained them as we went along.”

  “So why didn’t they keep you together?”

  He smiles as we resume walking. “Sometimes those same skills help you out of a relationship as well as into one.”

  I think of Jeff and Lloyd but push the thought away. I will not allow myself to think that their wedding might not happen. Instead I ask Martin, “Are you saying you’re perfectly content being single now?”

  “Perfectly content? No, not perfectly. But content. Yes, I’m quite content. I love my life. These past couple of weeks here in Provincetown have made me see the world in a whole new way.” He looks off toward the water as we pass between two houses. “For the first time in a very long time, I like being alone with Martin again. He’s quite fun to have around.”

  I smirk. “Do you make it a habit to talk about yourself in the third person?”

  “Well, I’m still learning to welcome him back. For a very long time, he was out in the cold.” Martin has stopped walking again. He points up a flight of stairs alongside a house. “My apartment,” he says.

  “Wow, what a great water view.”

  “And you predicted I couldn’t find something,” he chides.

  I smile. “I’m glad I was wrong.”

  He looks out toward the harbor. “Waking up to that view every morning, I am so happy to get out of bed. That’s quite the novel experience for me. It’s been a very long time since I’ve felt that way.”

  “I felt that way once, too,” I tell him, “when I first moved here.”

  He looks at me kindly. “But no more?”

  I give him a smile. “Tomorrow morning, I’m not sleeping in. I’m getting up the way I used to do, and going running on the beach. I need to remember why I love living here.”

  “Good for you, Henry,” Martin says.

  I pause before saying what’s on the tip of my tongue. I’m not sure why, but I do. Still, I make sure I say it.

  “It is always good talking with you, Martin. Thank you.”

  He blushes slightly. “Anytime, Henry.” Again he gestures up the stairs. “You know where I live.”

  “I do,” I tell him. And before I’m even fully aware of what I’m doing, I lean forward and kiss him on the lips. Not a long kiss—but definitely more than a peck.

  We don’t speak after that, just wave good-bye with our hands. Martin heads up the stairs and I turn back to walk the way we came. When I pass Spiritus, they’re all gone, Gale and his gang of boys. I hop back on my bike, which I’d locked on a nearby fence, and pedal back to the guesthouse.

  And—praise be to God—I see Jeff’s car parked in the driveway nextdoor.

  I hurry over to the house. I tap on the screendoor. I can see Jeff and Lloyd sitting facing each other on opposite couches inside, Mr. Tompkins in Lloyd’s lap.

  “Am I interrupting?” I ask.

  “Come on in, Henry,” Jeff calls.

  He gets up to embrace me. “Got yourself a new do, eh, Henry?” Jeff drapes his arm around my shoulder as he leads me inside.

  I run my hand over my new hair. It feels spiky and hard. “Yeah. You like? I bought a whole new wardrobe in Boston, too.”

  Jeff cocks an eyebrow. “Watch out world, Henry Weiner is loose.”

  “How about if we go out and sit in the yard?” Lloyd suggests.

  “Good idea,” Jeff replies.

  Thank God they’re speaking to each other.

  Only after we’ve all settled into Adirondack chairs do I realize that Jeff didn’t say whether or not he likes my faux-hawk. But no matter. Pierre said I looked ten years younger.

  We sit for a few seconds in silence. The sun feels warm on my face. The smell of salt in the air revives my senses.

  “So Lloyd was telling me when you walked in how Luke quit,” Jeff says. “How did it happen?”

  Lloyd sighs. “He said he was rethinking staying on in Provincetown for the winter. And I didn’t try to persuade him to stay.”

  I look over at Jeff. “Did he come to say good-bye to you?”

  “No,” Jeff replies. “I think his attempt to conquer Lloyd was his final word to me.”

  “Look, I can’t sit here making small talk,” I say, looking between them. “I have to know that you guys have worked this out.”

  Jeff begins to speak then stops himself. He and Lloyd exchange looks that I don’t like.

  “Come on, you guys! Please! You can work this out! Please tell me you can. You can’t let this one stupid thing run—”

  “Henry.” Jeff’s voice silences me. “There’s nothing to work out.”

  I sit forward in my chair. “What the fuck does that mean? You guys can’t give up on each other! You can’t just toss asid
e—”

  “Henry.” Now it’s Lloyd’s voice that cuts me off. “We aren’t giving up on each other.”

  “Or tossing anything aside,” Jeff says.

  I look at them. I can almost feel my eyes pleading with them.

  “So,” I ask, “will you please assure me that the wedding is still on?”

  Jeff looks at me with eyes I almost don’t recognize. “Henry,” he asks in a quiet voice, “why has that become so important to you?”

  “Because it is! Please tell me. Are you still getting married?”

  Jeff looks over at Lloyd in the chair next to him. For a second neither says anything. My heart skips a beat.

  Then Lloyd reaches over and takes Jeff’s hand.

  “Of course we’re still getting married,” he tells me, though he keeps his eyes locked with Jeff’s.

  “Oh, thank God,” I breathe.

  “Henry,” Jeff says, “I really am touched by how concerned you were about this.”

  I’ve actually begun to cry a little. “I couldn’t bear it if you guys had decided against getting married all on account of…” I look over at Lloyd. “Of what happened.”

  “You can say it,” Jeff says, a small smile on his face. “Lloyd slept with Luke.”

  “I will never say it,” I reply, shuddering.

  Lloyd is shaking his head. “I am human. I have a libido. I plead guilty to both those charges. And Luke was upset. I didn’t plan my response. It seemed to come from the situation.”

  “We’ve been over this,” Jeff tells me. “We’ve moved on.”

  “No,” Lloyd says. “I want Henry to understand.” He sighs again, seeming to clutch Jeff’s hand even tighter. “I don’t know if seducing me was a ruse on Luke’s part to get back at Jeff. Maybe that was some of his motivation.”

  “And maybe he just thought you were hot,” Jeff says.

  Lloyd manages a small smile. “Well, I’d hope that was at least part of it. But I really think there was something else going on. He was genuinely upset, and he was even more upset when he quit and walked out that door.” He looks over at me sincerely. “I think he was upset because he was worried he had lost you, Henry.”

  “Oh, I doubt that very much,” I say.

  “It’s what I feel quite strongly.”

  “Look,” I tell both of them, “what matters right now is not Luke or me. It is the two of you. I want to make sure that you are both going to be able to move past this and really celebrate this important ritual that’s coming up. The most important ritual of your lives most likely.”

  “Like I said,” Jeff tells me, “there is nothing to work out.”

  “I find that hard to believe, Jeff.”

  “Henry, look.” He leans forward in his chair. “Lloyd and I did not make any agreement to be monogamous in the weeks before the wedding. That was my own choice. This is what I realized while I was away, that it had been my decision, made completely on my own, with no input from Lloyd. And so I was wrong to be angry with him over something we’d never discussed.”

  “But it was a natural reaction,” I say.

  “No.” Jeff is adamant about this. “It was an immature reaction. All along, I never felt it was necessary for Lloyd to feel the same way that I did. What happened with Luke was not a comment on Lloyd’s love for me.” He looks back over at Lloyd. “Sitting there feeling sorry for myself in Melissa’s spare bedroom in Boston, I saw how hysterical I was being. I know how Lloyd feels about me. And it is more—much more—than enough.”

  “Thank you, Cat,” Lloyd says, rather emotionally.

  I look over at Jeff trying to recognize something familiar in his words. This is not the Jeff I once knew. The old Jeff would never have gotten over this so easily. He would have carried on, fretted and stewed. He’d have been terribly threatened by Luke, completely distraught.

  “So,” I ask, challenging him, “you didn’t feel any pang—anything—when you found out Lloyd had been fooling around with Luke?”

  Jeff smiles. “Well, obviously I felt some pang if I retreated to Boston to sulk.” He laughs. “But even as I was doing it, part of me knew I was on automatic pilot. That I was just reacting out of habit. Sitting there at Melissa’s, by myself, suddenly it all just became very clear.” He looks over at me directly. “Henry, nothing would ever make me doubt Lloyd’s love for me. Nothing.”

  Lloyd stands and squats beside Jeff’s chair. They share a brief kiss.

  “This is the man I love,” Lloyd says, talking to me but looking at Jeff. “No one—no matter how cute his ass might look in a thong—could ever make me feel otherwise.”

  “In fact,” Jeff says, looking from Lloyd back to me, “what really worried us about this whole situation was you, Henry. That’s what we were talking about when you walked in—about the possibility that Luke may have been manipulating you, and that your feelings were hurt.”

  Now Lloyd’s approaching me, stooping in front of me the way he’d just done with Jeff. He places his hands on my knees and looks up at me. As ever, his green eyes seem to peer into my soul.

  “Henry,” he says, “I really don’t believe Luke was being entirely manipulative. I think you should seek him out. No matter which way this goes, I think you’ll want some closure with him.”

  I don’t know what to say. Certainly I’m not at all eager to see Luke again. But Lloyd is probably right. A few answers might help me put the experience behind me. But I also know this has been a summer of very few answers, so I’m not sure I can expect any more this time.

  “We’ll see about Luke,” I say, standing up. “But listen, you guys. Thank you. Thank you for not giving up on each other.” I pause. “And thanks for being my friends.”

  “We love you, Henry,” Lloyd says.

  “I know.”

  We embrace again. Jeff joins us for a group hug. It feels a little silly, but also—I can’t deny it—pretty nice.

  Their words have a huge impact on me. Even as we all move back to our daily lives, the sentiments of my two best friends linger in my mind. What resonates is not just their expressions of love and support for me, but also their declarations of love for each other. What’s most impressive is the way Lloyd and Jeff seem to have gotten past trivialities—which, in this case, is exactly what Luke is. They’ve based their love and commitment on something so profound that not even a player like Luke could disturb it.

  It’s called trust.

  I smile to myself as I return to the front desk. Maybe the world has far more shades of gray than I’ve ever allowed myself to accept.

  And maybe, just maybe, I should consider what Lloyd said about Luke’s feelings for me.

  But not right now. I just can’t bear to think about any of that right now. Not Luke, not Gale. I need a mindless task to occupy my mind, so I settle on sorting through the mail that arrived while I was away. I just need to get back to my routine, to fall back into the groove of my life.

  Still, there’s one thing I do without even thinking too much about it. I feel no great emotion in doing so, just a simple recognition that it’s time.

  I take down Joey’s photograph from my in-box and throw it away.

  When I’m finished sorting the mail, I have a stack of promotional flyers I think Lloyd ought to look at. One is from a company that builds glassed-in sunrooms, something we’ve been thinking of adding. Another is from a sauna installer. We’d like to add a sauna out back this fall. I decide to carry the flyers over to Lloyd so he can check them out at his convenience.

  When I get to the house, everyone seems to have gone out. I’m thinking of just leaving the flyers on the kitchen table when I hear a sound. I step into the backyard and spot Jeff and Lloyd emerging from the hot tub, wrapping white terrycloth towels around their waists. My hand is on the screen door as I start to head outside—but then I notice Lloyd come up behind Jeff and put his arms around him. He presses his lips to Jeff’s shoulder. It’s such a tender gesture, such a delicate moment of intimacy that I pause, n
ot wanting to intrude. I watch as Jeff’s arm reaches behind him, coming to rest on Lloyd’s butt. They stand that way for several moments, leaning against the glass windows of the house, unaware that I’m watching them.

  In that moment, in that embrace, I see all the love that lives between them—all the history, all the joy, all the grief, all the struggle, all the triumph. I step back away from the door quietly. This is their time. I leave the flyers on the table and quietly return to the guesthouse.