by catt dahman
Lu whispered.
“What? Well, why were his pants down?” Could someone shut Sandra’s mouth? More whispering. “What? Why would he wanna do that?” She yelped as Lorene grabbed her arm and the girls pulled her to the bathroom. “That is so not true.” And that was the last she cried out. Yep, it was true.
People started leaving the party after that, voices low. A few even cast a look at Bernie as if he were to blame. What kind of host lets people turn homosexual in their brother’s bedroom? It was that ridiculous.
I stayed, helping to clean up with a few others. Kenny and Walter didn’t come out as they no doubt waited for the crowd to leave, but the longer they stayed in the room, the more we wondered what they were doing. Imaginations went wilder than truth. Bernie had gone to sit outside in the cold, alone, and I thought he might be drinking alcohol. He was livid.
We had heard just a hint at church about not lying with our own gender and maybe had heard in health class about it being unhealthy. In 1957, anyone gay, and Brother, the word gay was not even used then, it was said they were queer, had to be monstrous and green, not cute, nice kids who were perfectly normal. Seeing them had made us all question everything we had ever been told.
Did adults not know everything? Could teachers and ministers be wrong? Were Kenny and Walter monsters? But we liked them. It was a great deal to take in and then analyze.
I took Grace and a few of the others home as soon as I could.
I did a lot of thinking. What is it like to carry deep secrets? How is it to love or desire and never be able to act upon either? What wretchedness is born of hiding one’s true self? What happens when obsession leaks out? Oh, you bet I could understand a lot of how those two boys felt. It was the same but worse and better for me. My secrets were also beginning to unravel me; in short, the secrets were beginning to decompose big time.
This was a huge deal as we were innocents in 1957. But before I left Bernie’s house, ‘it’ all hit the fan, so to speak. Anxiety was building, and by the time the boys came out of Daniel’s room, it was like Oppenheimer’s biggest dream. Came out; they came out of the room. Not funny. But they did, and Bernie caught Walter still in the yard, tackled him, and plummeted the boy’s face and body, bloody and broken.
Walter didn’t even get a hit logged back but took a beating before we saw them fighting outside. Bernie had a small piece of wood, swinging it in fury. A few of us pulled Bernie off the kid before it was too late. I felt ill, seeing Walter’s bleeding face, swollen eyes, shredded lips, broken and disjointed nose, and distorted jaw. Skin had opened up in fissures, and bones were broken. He would look battered and scarred for the rest of his life.
I heard later, that in addition to his face being ruined, he had a broken arm, a shattered wrist, some broken fingers, a broken collarbone, a few cracked ribs, and wide- opened, multiple gashes on both arms.
Someone drove Walter to the hospital, and more than one person told Walter’s parents, some kindly, where their son was, some cruelly name-calling and blaming them for what had happened to the kid. His parents refused to give statements to the police, and Walter, I heard, cried a lot and claimed he didn’t remember the entire night. I heard among the police and medical staff, that some thought he got what he deserved. We never saw him again, and some whispered that he was sent to the military. Vietnam, Baby.
Kenny got away without being beaten by Bernie, but by the time he got home, his own preacher was there with his parents, ready to beat the sin out of him. His mother collapsed midway through the impromptu exorcism, wailing hysterically.
The news had spread by morning and was the talk of town. That Sunday morning, all of our parents had us in our own church, listening to the sins of Sodom, spoken with renewed fire and brimstone. Our parents made sure, via intense questioning, that we had not caught the homosexuality virus and that we were to condemn, nay, stone those who were evil doers. There was no understanding and forgiving and loving thy neighbor that day. And people ask why ‘Jesus wept’?
We heard that people crank-called Kenny as well, that he was told how badly Walter had been beaten, and that he had not been allowed to visit his friend. Someone said a few callers suggested Kenny do the town a favor and kill himself. That afternoon, Kenny went out to his big maple tree and hanged himself.
Just like that.
His father found him, and I don’t know if they moved or what happened to the family; they just were there, and then they were gone. Parents went amazingly quiet on what happened to those boys and family except to say that they were evil doers. The house, empty and for sale, sat a long time.
Grace and I found this bird once. It was a purple martin, fluttering about, unable to fly. So we watched it, looked it up in a bird book. I told her how nature culled the weak and that saving the bird was against nature, survival of the fittest and all that junk.
She was patient with my rambling and then explained to me how a cat would find it, and in cat-fashion would play with the bird: claws here, a bite there until the thing’s heart was pounding with fear and pain. “The cat could let it go, but it will hold that bird, give it some hope for escape, and then cut off the hope, again. And the bird is terrified over dying or just over being in pain for so long. Imagine something playing with your life until it just eats you alive.”
That was melodrama. But it bugged me.
I finally got the bird and put it into an old cage. We gave it water and added bugs and berries, but it didn’t eat. The bird, whom we called Molly, just stared at us through the bars. We let her out and tried to get her to fly, but the damned thing just hopped about, lighting on one of my sneakers. I saw a cat watching.
In the cage, Molly flung herself randomly. She couldn’t escape by flight, so she just gave up. Being alive was pain. The bird died on the third day.
“I bet Kenny felt as if a big cat were chewing on him,” Grace said.
“Yup. And he hated his cage,” I told her.
It made sense to us, anyway.
Another girl may have gone missing, or maybe one was found. Maybe she was blonde, but maybe not. I don’t recall now, but it was bad. Some days I was on the top of the world, and some days I felt pinned by an epic weight.
I went, clandestinely, to see Walter in the hospital, but he had been released. I think I was relieved. Days began to melt into one another, and I was unsure how to grab them and figure them out. Everything around me was waiting, and I didn’t know what we were waiting on.
Chapter 13
A few days before Christmas was when all the parents escaped us and traveled together to shop in Dallas; they did so that year, but unlike other years, this was the great snow-freeze of the decade.
I trudged over to see Grace mid-afternoon, wondering if our parents would make it back in a few days for the holidays. East Texas wasn’t used to this bad weather, so we had no snowplows or salt laid in; we just stared out the windows, flummoxed by the situation. I added wood to her fireplace, wondering how she had kept warm this long, “You make fire like a girl.”
Grace threw a pillow at me and laughed. “ I hope I do. It’s already getting dark, and it’s gonna freeze again. I wonder when they’ll ever get back here.”
“No telling. I see you have plenty of wood, and we do, too, so you won’t freeze if you learn to make a decent fire.”
“Like a boy?”
“Yep, like a Boy Scout.”
“I think Girl Scouts can make fires, too.”
The wind had picked up. “Great,” she sighed, “this whole fall has just been creepy, and now winter begins.”
“ 'Cause we didn’t notice all the creepiness when we were kids. Now, we see it all.” But I secretly agreed; it had all gone south since she moved in, not that I would take that back for anything. Besides, nothing had been her fault.
Around the eaves, the wind whined, dropped loose limbs on the roof, and the ice crackled. Leaves and litter rattled around the porch. The swing banged solidly into the house wall, making u
s jump.
I knew I couldn’t leave her here alone.
I ditched my coat to curl up amid the blankets and pillows she had dragged in as a nest. It was chilly, but the candles and her lantern made it cozy. Grace handed me a cup of coffee, laced with brandy.
For a while, we talked about Kenny, what classes we were taking the next semester, and gossiped. She apologized for the weeks before, leaving the party with Bernie, and admitted she had dated him because that’s what she thought her parents wanted, but lately, they had been less enthused, and Grace had been able to duck most dates.
“He doesn’t bother to ask me out as much now, and I always claim I’m studying anyway when he does ask.”
“Your parents are okay with that?”
“Yes.”
“What caused the change?”
“A few things. You ever notice he seems sneaky, like a weasel?”
“I’ve always thought he was a jerk. I don’t like him.”
“You never told me that… I thought….I thought you liked him.”
“Oh, Grace, no way.” Had I kept my feelings that covered? “I‘ve never liked him and his drama with Jennifer.”
“Her. I think he still sees her or something. But at least, he never really tries to kiss me. Maybe he’s homosexual, too.”
I laughed.
“No. I think he sees her. So what else with your parents?”
“Bernie has a temper. I told them about Walter, and they were very mad that Bernie beat Walter.”
“That was sick. I wish I had smashed his face for it.” The fact was, with adding muscle, I was every bit as big as Bernie now.
“It was horrible. I had nightmares. But that’s Bernie.”
“So what’s your status with him?”
She looked fascinated with a pillow in her lap. “Oh, he asked me about getting married. To him, I mean.”
I let a several minutes go past. Every response that I had involved shaking her until her teeth rattled and yelling. “I see.” Rage was close.
“I said for him to slow down and wait. I brushed it off, but now he wants to tell people we’re engaged. I told him not to dare show up with a ring ‘cause I won’t put it on.”
“Wow.”
“And this is with me brushing him off and never even going out.”
“He’s slow.”
Grace seemed furious, “ I’ll do exactly what Kenny did before I marry Bernie. I don’t hate Bernie…not that…but I would hate him really fast if I had to marry him. And then I would either want to die or kill him.”
“Oh, Grace.”
“You have Colli, so you may not understand.”
“I don’t have Colli. We just go out; there’s nothing there.” I was miserable.
“Oh, well, you never say much about her, but I thought.”
“No, it’s casual.”
“I thought…you had a thing for her.”
“No, there’s someone else I care for,” I plunged.
“Oh. I see.” But she didn’t see. I took her hand, and her mouth made a little O as she searched my eyes.
I figured my life was about to be ruined, but I went ahead and kissed her. She didn’t slap me, run away, or scream. Kissing me back, she leaned in to me. I was kissing my dream girl. Was it better than the fantasy? Oh, you bet, it was. I stopped only to look into her eyes and see her smile.
“About time,” she whispered.
Any sanity left me.
She smelled good and felt good in my arms. I wasn’t thinking, but my senses were flooded. I wanted to just kiss her forever, but there was a frantic call in my blood, a desire to possess her, and she was matching my passion. Her nails dug into the back of my neck as she pressed closer to me. I wanted her.
She didn’t stop me from touching her perfect breasts. Grace pulled my sweater up and off, running fingers over my chest. I undressed her, each layer a delight. I felt her warm, smooth skin. “I’ve never…show me.”
My face blushed. “I haven’t either.”
“We can figure it out,” she said, covering me with kisses.
We made love three times that night: once in a frenzy of passion, desperate, no frantic, to be as close as possible, once in discovery, taking time to explore, and once like old lovers. I lost track of how many times we declared our love or how many times I was sure this was a cruel dream, but she fell asleep in my arms in front of the fire.
In the morning, she was still there. We lost our virginity together; it wasn’t awkward but beautiful.
Outside, we made snow forts that collapsed into our faces with icy deluges, formed snow angels, tossed snowballs, and ran back inside with numbed noses, cheeks, and toes.
We had sandwiches and cream of tomato soup; we made love again before noon. I had never seen her emerald eyes that happy and flashing with wit. The dark smudges beneath her eyes vanished, color filled her face. I felt ten feet tall and as if the weight of months had been lifted from my shoulders. We could meet one anther’s eyes and begin laughing or start a new topic as if our minds were connected.
So, we could say it was the thrill of forbidden, first sex that made us so giddy, but it was more, and we knew it. It was forever. It was insanity and a drug-free high, excitement, a naughty trip into the unknown, but it was also safe and right.
Bernie called once, but Grace cut the call short, saying she was tired and resting. I told her to just end it right then, but she looked confused. “I can’t just cut him off without some decorum. I do want a decent reputation.”
Maybe that was true. I thought a little of that wild bird, Molly, that we had caged. Grace would wilt if caged. I knew that people had to choose to be with whom they dated, or they would run away as fast as they could; strangle-holds killed.
Chapter 14
If I had had my way, I would have to say we lived happily ever after, but that would be a lie.
Our parents did make it back for the holidays, but I had my gift in Grace. Again, we spent all our time together, but this time it was intimate. I bought her a heart locket.
At first, Grace was around me in a crowd of our friends, and Bernie was usually there, but she avoided being alone with him; he ignored the situation, hoping it would resolve. She always said she was busy and couldn’t go out with him, but then she showed up places with me.
We didn’t want a scene. Gradually, I was standing next to Grace at parties and socials, Colli with dates of her own; then, it was Grace and David, arriving and leaving places together.
I wasn’t going to be a famous athlete, and we all knew it; I quit sports except for baseball, now and then. My focus stayed on my grades and Grace. Our parents didn’t complain as we were always in one kitchen or another, pouring over our books, stolen moments treasured.
Those weeks, we laughed more than ever while we watched the others as if we were safely enclosed in a snow-globe. We took extra classes to compete for grades.
A few people dropped out of school; some boys went into the military. Bernie was in quite a few fist fights that seemed to involve alcohol and the ‘other side of the tracks’ as he began a destructive journey. Jennifer looked more run-down, and now it was her skin that glowed milk-pale, her eyes with purple smudges beneath them, and her hair that turned brittle.
Judy, the girl whose sister had been murdered, called me one day, asking me to please meet with her, and I stupidly met her again for coffee; Bobby Fischer was the genius, not me.
She asked about the article I had never written, and I assured her it had been great, promising falsely, I would send her a copy. I felt a little bad about lying, but mostly it seemed so long ago that it hardly mattered. Judy looked much older and bone-tired. “I was hoping, like in books, you might have some clue as to what had happened to Susie,” she explained.
“I wish I could help you.” That part was true.
The police in her town had closed the case since it was cold as a witch’s teat. Bitterness in her voice, Judy said, “Yanno, David, it was someone she knew
. The police say it was some vagrant on the rail line, but it wasn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Just a feeling ’cause of the way she was killed. It seems personal, and now, looking back, so many things were so wrong.”
“Like?”
“She was happy. It was as if she were getting out, but she was different…not in a bad way or a good way, but just different. She wasn’t hanging out with her friends any more just working a lot or going out with her mystery boyfriend.”
“Any word on him? What do the police say?”
“They have refused to accept he ever existed. To them, she was dirt poor and had all sorts of boyfriends; you know what I mean. They made her seem like a slut, but he was the only one she was dating,” Judy told me.
“But no idea who he was?”
“None. He was her big secret. She was just too busy for everyone and everything else. I think it’s strange that she was cut off from everyone, then was upset, and finally was killed. There’s something there.”
“I have no idea,” I told her, “I don’t really know why you wanted to see me.” My hands were sweaty.
“You’re the only one who even asked intelligent questions. I thought maybe together we could think of something.”
“I’m not a detective, Judy.”
She leaned away from me as if I had slapped her; my tone had been way too harsh. “I know that and didn’t mean to bother you.”
“Wait.” I stopped her from going. “I’m sorry. I just feel frustrated by not being able to help you.” I was also, too, busy, now.
She nodded. “My Mom drinks a lot now, and Dad just doesn’t come home. He leaves us money, but that’s about it. I was hoping to graduate high school, but I may have to quit and work full time.”
“Oh, Judy.”
“Now don’t give me your pity; just listen a sec, okay?” she sighed. “So one day Dad just won’t be around, and neither will his little ole paycheck.
One day Mom will fall apart, and I will have to go away to live with Aunt Connie. Like Connie’s always saying: “Maybe the youngest will go to Connie’s, too, or maybe to Aunt Susan’s.”
