by F M Land
Without a word, Terry reached out and removed the onyx earring from my earlobe. Then he turned his head to the right, so I could take out my two earrings from his left earlobe. He wrapped the earrings in a tissue and tucked them into his pocket. “Jade can use these in that silent auction he is fundraising for these days.” He smiled at me sadly, hopefully.
We kissed then for a long time. Terry opened his mouth and let me kiss him the way I liked to. In deep, powerful open-mouthed kisses. I let my desire reach a powerful crescendo before I pulled away from Terry’s mouth. Terry gasped and staggered backwards.
“Everything will be all right,” I repeated, more for my own sake than Terry’s.
“I didn’t know Drew cared so much.”
“Of course he cares!” I replied. “He loves you very much. As much as me. And that’s a lot!”
Terry dried his eyes then. And smiled weakly. “Ready?”
“No,” I answered in a small voice. “I’ll miss you.”
Nodding, Terry hugged me one last time. “Everything will be all right,” he reminded me, using my words.
When we went back into the dining room, Maman was just rejoining Dizzy and Dad, helping them clean up dishes and utensils. Dizzy smiled radiantly at me as I entered the room.
“Ken just telephoned,” he told me. “I told him you’d call when you returned. He said it was urgent.”
Without a word, I turned to use the telephone in the kitchen. I patted Terry on the back as I passed him in the doorway. Quickly I dialed Ken’s number.
“Hello?”
The sound of Ken’s voice caused me to suck in my breath. My heart began to ricochet off the walls of my ribcage. “Sorry I barged in on you like that,” I muttered into the phone.
“We’re even now, huh?” Ken remarked in a quiet voice.
“Oh, is that what Mr. Suit was doing in your living room? Allowing you to get even?”
Ken snickered. “I’m sorry. I thought he might help me forget about you.”
“So you like your men dark and hairless, huh? And in suits?”
“Paul ---”
We were both silent for a moment. A long moment. Ken broke the silence.
“When I saw you at my door tonight, when I saw that face of yours, I knew I was fooling myself. No one can make me stop loving you, Paul.”
Another silence prevailed. I was too overcome to speak. My vocal cords felt like they’d been strung too tightly. I didn’t trust myself to talk.
“Paul?” Ken hesitated, then continued. “I love you, Paul, very much, but I can’t share you. It’s not in my nature. I’m extremely possessive, especially with people I love.”
At last I found my voice. “You don’t have to,” I croaked. I cleared my throat and tried again. “You don’t have to share me. Terry and I agreed to cool it between us. We’re hurting too many people. It just isn’t worth it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you don’t have to worry about Terry anymore. He’s out of the picture. It will be just me and you, if that’s what you want.”
Ken exhaled loudly. “How soon can you get here?”
“I’m leaving right now, sweetheart.”
Dad laughed with glee when he heard where I was headed. Even Maman smiled. “Our little Paulie’s in love,” he told her. “I believe there’s serious business afoot, eh, Paulie?”
Paul (1989)
We didn’t waste much time after that. We drove upstate the following weekend to Clifton Springs, so I could meet Ken’s parents. I found them to be a comfortable pair, comfortable with everything except for their gay son and his young lover. Ken’s mother, Elaine, eyed me with a peculiar wariness, as if I might go crazy on her or something. I tried to make pleasant conversation with her, but she seemed only interested in discussing Angela and her home life.
“Don’t worry, it’s only Act One, Scene One,” Ken told me when we were alone. “They’ll warm up to you. They are still upset because I divorced Mary Ellen, and they’re all up in arms about Mary Ellen’s new husband.”
Mary Ellen’s new husband, according to Ken, was the best thing that ever happened to her. She did look happy, almost radiant, when Ken and I stopped by her house in Hartsdale to pick up Angela the following Saturday for her weekend with “Dadda,” as she called Ken. And Mary Ellen was pleasant enough to me, although she avoided eye contact with me. She told me she liked my music.
Angela was a beautiful child, with bright blue eyes and long, golden brown ringlets that sprang from her head like coiled wire. She talked nonstop about the most inconsequential nonsense, like about this boy, Michael, who hit other children in her class. Without any questions, she accepted my presence in her father’s apartment. She was concerned that there weren’t enough beds or bedrooms for all three of us, but fell asleep without resolving the problem of our sleeping arrangements.
We took her to the Bronx Zoo to see the new baby polar bears, which never showed their furry little faces on that warm Sunday afternoon in April. When Angela got tired of walking, we took turns carrying her on our shoulders.
“You’d make a wonderful parent,” Ken murmured to me as he lifted Angela onto my shoulders. “I’d love to adopt a baby boy. Wouldn’t that be neat? We could raise him together.” He smiled into my eyes.
“What are you two whispering about?” Angela demanded to know. “I can’t hear what you’re saying, Dadda!”
I flashed Ken a wide smile. Raising a child with Ken. A son. Yes, that’s what I wanted to do. Like Terry and Drew, like the way they raised me. I thought of Terry then, about how I worshipped Terry as a child, about how I still worshipped Terry. Flustered by my confusion, I turned away from Ken’s eyes to stare blindly at some giraffes.
By early June, I was back in New York for good. Robbie’s record was scheduled to be released in late summer, and my own single, “Scream,” was #1 on the charts across the nation. In May, my band did the musical spot on Saturday Night Live. For the show, I wore an oversize teeshirt, with “GayBoy” printed on the front and “FAG” on the back. Terry flew over from Europe to play with us, then flew to Australia with Drew after that.
I hadn’t seen Terry since Maman’s birthday, although Terry sent me postcards from around the world. He and Drew were happy and doing well. They planned to spend nearly a month in Australia before they returned for my wedding in June. As a wedding present, Terry and Drew offered to prepare a honeymoon retreat for Ken and me in Maman’s house outside of Edinburgh.
Ken had never been to Scotland before, and we decided we would spend two weeks of his vacation there, after our wedding. After that, we planned to spend a quiet week in New York, in Ken’s Washington Heights apartment, before Ken had to return to the hospital in early July. We talked about house-hunting a bit, but we couldn’t agree on a state, much less a neighborhood.
We set our wedding date for the second Sunday in June and asked Dizzy and one of Ken’s brothers, the engineer, to stand up for us. We planned to be married in Dad and Maman’s house in Valhalla. Before meeting me, Ken had become active in the Friends Meeting at Columbia University. But we decided to ask a Unitarian minister, someone my grandmother had known for years, to preside at our wedding. We met with him a few times in May and June to get the script for our wedding together. Ken and I insisted on doing all the talking and wrote the minister out of the script. I wanted my band to perform a song I’d written for Ken, at the wedding.
A week before the wedding, I got a card from Terry. I had moved in with Ken at that point, so the letter arrived at Ken’s. Ken brought it upstairs with him after work and handed it to me unopened. Trying to appear casual, I took my time opening the envelope, fearing the worst. Terry wrote that it looked like he and Drew would be unable to come to New York for my wedding, that they would put finishing touches on the house in Scotland and then meet Drew’s mother in Paris. Drew’s mother visited them every year in June, and they couldn’t persuade her to put off her visit.
“Sounds like
a shabby excuse to me,” Ken remarked after I read the letter aloud to him.
Terry ended the letter with “all the best,” and Drew signed it, too. Feeling vaguely disappointed, I reread the letter silently. I looked for any hidden messages, any hints about why they weren’t really coming to the wedding. Finally I decided that it must be Drew, that Drew wasn’t up to facing me yet. I mentioned that possibility to Ken, who shrugged, uninterested in the speculation.
“I don’t really care if they’re there or not,” Ken told me. “You’re the only person I want to be there. Everyone else is superfluous.”
I moved to Ken then, and we kissed. “Terry and Drew are like my second parents,” I tried to explain.
“Sure, sure.”
“It’s true! I feel like, if they’re not there, my wedding day won’t be complete.”
Ken pulled me close. “If I’m there, your wedding day will be complete.”
The day before the wedding, Ken’s friends decided that Ken and I should spend the night apart. They carted a protesting Ken off bodily about three in the afternoon, telling me that I’d see Ken the next day, if I was lucky. I hopped into my car and headed for the Village, hoping to catch up with Ken down there later in the evening. My first stop was Dizzy’s. My brother denied knowing where they were taking Ken. Then I stopped in on Jade and Daniel.
Jade hugged me tightly in greeting. “Tomorrow’s the big day. Not having second thoughts, are you?”
“No, no. But they took Ken away, Scott and all the guys from the hospital.”
Jade clapped his hands together, laughing. “A stag party! We should have one for you!” He called Daniel out of their bedroom.
“Let’s just go to Ziggy’s and hear some music,” I suggested. “I hate these heterosexual holdovers. No stag parties for me.”
Even so, Jeff, Jade, and Daniel, along with Dizzy and Robbie, did their best to get me to drink too much that night. All I did was drink wine. But, after my fifth glass, I had trouble finding my feet. I considered calling home to see if Ken were there.
“Forget it,” Dizzy told me. “They won’t let Ken go home tonight. Just like I won’t let you go uptown, either.”
“I’ve got a car. I can drive, if I want.”
“No!” Dizzy and Jade spoke in unison. Dizzy continued, “You’ve had too much to drink. I won’t let you drive anywhere tonight.”
Just then, there was a stir in the audience, the kind of commotion that always occurred whenever someone famous walked into Ziggy’s. With a jerk of my head, I turned to see who the newcomer was. I spied Drew. Drew! He was supposed to be in France with his mother. And Terry.
Terry’s eyes met mine from across the club. Furtively. For an instant. Then Terry said something to Drew, and they headed in the direction of my table.
“Heard you were having a party!” Drew cried when he reached us. “How are you, Paulie? Looking lovely, I see. You’ll make a beautiful bride, won’t he?” Drew hugged me, then held me at arm’s length to study my face. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. “I’ve had too much to drink, thanks to my stinking brother here.”
“Dizzy, Dizzy!” Drew reprimanded lightly. Then he laughed. A couple months alone with Terry had done Drew lots of good.
Slowly, ever so casually, I turned to Terry. I was afraid of what my response would be. But, Terry, too, was very casual. His embrace was perfunctory. His eye contact was very controlled. He told me that he’d missed me. Then he turned his attention to the other members of our band. It seemed that Terry wanted to rehearse my wedding song for Ken. Someone made the suggestion that they go to Dizzy’s to practice, and off they went, leaving me, Dizzy, Robbie, and Drew behind at Ziggy’s.
Drew had a drink with us, and I switched to grapefruit juice, to clear my head a bit. When Drew stood up to leave, I tried to convince Dizzy and Robbie to go back to Dizzy’s. But Dizzy and Robbie wanted to stay out longer.
“You’re not going to find any women here, anyhow,” Drew observed drily. “Take your little brother home, Dizzy. He has a big day tomorrow.” Drew kissed me then and hugged me exuberantly. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” Drew told me before he left.
At Dizzy’s, Robbie and I made a beeline to the third floor where my band was rehearsing. We grabbed guitars and joined in the music. It felt good to be playing with my band again. Even Jeff seemed back into it. I glanced at Terry, who happened to be watching me at that moment. Terry blushed when I caught him staring. I felt unnerved, but turned my attention back to the music, blocking out careless thoughts about Terry. Terry was married to Drew, I reminded myself, and I was about to marry Ken.
By early morning, only Dizzy, Robbie, Terry, and I remained at Dizzy’s. Robbie pulled out some cocaine about 3 AM, which perked us all up. Dizzy, however, wanted to go out to eat. So he and Robbie went out in search of whatever, leaving Terry and me alone. I knew I should have gone out with my brother and cousin. I knew I’d probably have to lie to Ken about it, but I chose to stay with Terry, alone, in the studio. I needed to talk to Terry.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” were my first words to Terry. “I was totally disappointed when I got your letter last week. I wanted you to be here for this.”
Terry nodded. “Are you happy?” he asked, his eyes searching my face.
“Yes,” I half-whispered.
“No regrets?”
I paused to think. “Only that I can’t spend more time with you. I’ve missed you.”
Terry nodded again. He seemed to have trouble speaking. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down on the front of his neck.
“Come here,” I told him gently.
Like a dutiful puppy, Terry approached me. He threw himself down on the sofa beside me. His eyes refused to meet mine.
With a sigh, I reached out and pulled Terry into my arms. As Terry toppled against me, I could tell I was in trouble. My zizi felt like a cannon between my legs. I held Terry close. Neither of us spoke. There was no need for words. I was with my Terry. Being with Terry made everything better, even the drunken turmoil in my head.
I tried to speak. I felt I had something I must say to Terry.
“Shhh!” Terry told me.
“Shhh!” I echoed. Then I fell asleep, lying under Terry’s body, with Terry wrapped in my arms.
I awoke to find myself alone. I experienced an unsettling flash of disappointment mixed with relief. It was my wedding day, and I awoke to the most incredible headache I’d ever had. I rushed downstairs to see what Dizzy might have for my headache.
Later, at Valhalla, my stomach on fire with Dizzy’s hangover antidote of aspirin and vitamin C, I began to dress for my wedding. Ken had insisted that we wear suits and ties. So I purchased a light brown linen Gallatier suit with threads of dark brown silk woven into the fabric. It looked great with my dark eyes and California tan. I struggled with my tie for a bit, then yelled to Dizzy for help.
Dizzy came through the bathroom that adjoined both of our bedrooms. “Let me see,” he said.
“Shit!” I complained. “Ken and his suits. Tell me, when was the last time I wore a tie?”
“Etienne’s funeral. Now, hold still! Yeck, you’ve got to brush your teeth.”
“I will. Are you done yet?”
“Use mouthwash, too.” Dizzy stood there surveying my appearance. “You look great,” he told me. “You’ll knock Ken out of his drawers. Are you nervous?”
Before I could respond, Drew stood in the doorway, smiling at us.
“You’re here!” I exclaimed. “I’m so glad! Where’s Ter?”
“He’s downstairs in the kitchen with Justine.” Drew gazed at me intently. “I want to talk with you alone,” he glanced meaningfully in Dizzy’s direction, “for a few minutes.”
As Dizzy left the room, I giggled nervously. “Now, Drew, Dad has already given a lecture on the secret to successful marriages this morning.”
“This is not a lecture,” Drew told me, sitting on the edge of my bed. “Come here.” He patted to a
place next to himself. “This is an offer.”
The way he said it made icicles of fear freeze around my heart. Slowly I moved toward Drew. I sat down gingerly.
“Terry is not dealing well with the fact that you’re getting married, Paulie. He has been sobbing his eyes out for two weeks now. At first, he thought he couldn’t stand to be here for it. He was afraid he’d fall apart and make a scene. But, he really wanted to be here today. He loves you, Paul. He wants you to come back to France with us and live with us.” He drew in his breath deeply, then exhaled loudly. “I want that, too, Paul. I want Terry to be happy. I love him that much. And he isn’t happy without you. He needs you.”
I shook my head. “No, he understands. He knows everything will work out the way they are. Last night --”
“Last night he couldn’t bring himself to ask you. He was too overwhelmed and too happy to see you. He wants you to come away with us. He doesn’t want you to marry Ken.”
Suddenly my stomach revolted from the rapid interplay of emotions in my gut. Bolting to the bathroom, I barely made it to the toilet in time to puke up everything in my belly. In the process, I ruined my tie. Aggravated, I ripped it off my neck. Jesus, Drew can’t be serious. “Dizzy!” I called. “I just barfed all over my new tie. Fuck me!”
“I have one almost identical to it. Keep your shit together. Let me see if I can find it.”
I went back to my bedroom to face Drew. “If Terry feels so strongly about this, why isn’t he up here?” I asked.
Drew took his time answering. “He’s too upset to face you. Justine is trying to calm him down before Ken’s family gets here.”
“Shit, Drew. I can’t back out now!”
“Sure you can. You owe Ken nothing.”
“I told him that I’d marry him,” I practically shrieked at Drew.
Calmly, Drew pulled me down on the bed beside himself on the mattress. “You told Terry you’d always love him.”
“And I will.”
“Listen, I’m willing to separate from Terry and let you live with him alone, if that’s what you’d prefer. I can’t stand to see him like this. He loves you, Paul.”
