Beach Reading

by Abramson, Mark

  Artie was telling about the night when Hermione Gingold came backstage after he hadn’t even seen her in the audience at his show, but he stopped. The roller-derby drag kids skated by. He heard their laughter through Arts’ open windows and caught a glimpse of the bright colors of their clothes and wigs, but they were long gone now. These kids skating by didn’t know Artie Glamóur from Adam. They would never have heard of Hermione Gingold either. These kids today had probably forgotten who Divine was by now, too.

  You could almost set your watch by the fog coming in this time of year, but not tonight. Tim watched a shirtless couple of bodybuilders walk by holding hands. They seemed in a hurry in spite of the warm night. Tim was disappointed that he couldn’t even count on the fog and Artie was discouraged that the world was moving by so quickly.

  Corey had been fun, but he was gone now too. He was only a boy… a big boy, but much too young for Tim. He had been sexy and comfortable and more interesting than some of the guys Tim met in the past year or so, but tonight he was just another memory to savor. Every gay man in the world seemed to pass through 18th and Castro Streets at least once in his life, so Tim was sure to see Corey again someday, maybe a year from now or maybe twenty. Tim had a job waiting tables smack dab in the middle of the Castro and lots of guys in far distant parts of the world might envy him that. He had no complaints.

  “Oh, Tim!” Vanessa Caen called from the bar. Tim took another swipe across the table top with a napkin and smiled up at her. “Harley and I want to buy you a drink when you get off… or do you have other plans?”

  “Sure… thanks… I should help Jake out, though, after he set up my tables for me.”

  “That’s okay, Tim,” Jake said. “It’s my night to close. Hang out with your friends. I’ll get even with you later.”

  “I’m sure you will, Jake,” Tim said as he sat down at the bar.

  “… and then I taught dancing for years after I retired from the stage,” Vanessa was telling Artie. “Ah, there you are, Tim. What would you like to drink?”

  “I’ll have a vodka and tonic, please. You know, I’ve thought about taking a class in ballroom dancing. I’ve seen those contests on PBS and ‘Dancing with the Stars’ and they always look like they’re having fun.”

  Jake stepped up to the bar with a tray full of dirty glasses and said to Tim, “They frown on people doing poppers at the Arthur Murray dance school, Tim.”

  Harley laughed, but his sister looked confused. Tim ignored Jake and asked, ”What happened to Teresa? I barely met her new friend. What was his name? Tony? He seemed nice… quiet.”

  “They had a couple of drinks and left,” Artie said.

  “I think she had better plans for him than hanging around here listening to Viv torture show tunes at the piano,” Jake said.

  “Jake!” Artie held an index finger to his lips. “Hush! She’ll hear you.”

  “I don’t care. What’s she gonna do, cross me off her Christmas card list?” Jake went to clear the last of the dinner plates. There was a crowd around the piano now and a few customers lingered over coffee and after-dinner drinks at their tables.

  Vanessa and Artie carried on with tales of their show-business careers until Harley yawned enough for his sister to get the hint. “We should take you home.”

  “It’s been a treat to get out of the house, but my energy is waning.”

  Artie picked up the phone and called a cab while Tim helped Harley into the wheelchair and out the door. When the taxi was about to pull away, Vanessa opened the rear window. ”We’ll see you at the party Friday, won’t we Tim? I completely forgot to invite Artie and that was one of the reasons we came all the way over here tonight. Silly me! Please ask him to come with you, Tim.”

  “Friday,” Tim repeated as the cab drove off. At least he knew which night it was now.

  “What a delightful woman!” Artie said when Tim came back inside to finish the third drink they’d bought him.

  “She was a big fan of yours, Artie,” Tim said. “I didn’t know you were such a celebrity.”

  “There’s a lot the kids your age don’t know. This was a whole different town back then, before AIDS and before everything got to be so expensive.” Artie sighed and smiled. “Vanessa Caen… I’m so glad you brought her in here, Tim.”

  “I didn’t bring her in, Artie. They came to meet you, not me.” Tim was just glad Artie wasn’t grilling him about being late for work.

  “She reminded me of someone,“ Artie said. “No one in particular… you know what I mean? She’s just the sort of person who’s a stranger only once. Then every time she smiles she has the look of an old friend who shares a delicious secret.”

  Tim’s head spun. He could hear those exact words coming from his Aunt Ruth and Artie and hadn’t even met her yet. Tim suspected that he would have another night of wild dreams, but right now he just felt tired. He wasn’t that much older than Corey, but Tim was worn out. “I’m glad you liked her, Artie. I almost forgot they’re having a party on Friday and she asked me to invite you. Whaddayasay? You wanna come with me after I get off work?”

  “I’d love to, but I can’t leave Jason alone on a Friday night. What time does the party start? Maybe I can duck out early. Jason’s leaving me alone on Saturday night. Maybe I should. He can cover for me for a change.”

  Tim had almost managed to forget about Jason. “I’m not sure. She mentioned that their friends would go on all night, although I’m sure Harley won’t last long. We can talk about it tomorrow. Goodnight, Artie. Thanks again, Jake. Tell Arturo goodnight for me, will you?”

  Tim intended to head straight home, but he was tired of feeling sorry for himself. Artie had been arranging things so that he and Jason never saw each other, but this had gone on long enough. When he got to the corner of 19th and Castro he turned left toward Noe Street instead of right toward Collingwood. Tim thought of all the nights he’d walked over to Jason’s place on Hancock and spent the night in Jason’s bed, but tonight things were different. Tim’s encounter with Corey had put a sort of buffer between then and now. Tonight he would just stop by to say a friendly hello.

  There was a pick-up truck in the driveway behind Jason’s convertible. Tim got close enough to see a logo on the door from a nursery in Sonoma County. Jason’s yard wasn’t big enough for a gardener and nobody was landscaping at this hour. Tim’s heart sank. Jason must have picked up some butch trick on his night off. Tim never considered that the truck might belong to someone visiting the people upstairs.

  Tim felt foolish standing in the driveway. He was all ready to brag about his adventure with Corey or even admit to trying to act like Jason on Sunday, but all he really wanted tonight was a friend. Tim headed back down the hill toward the bars. As tired as he was, he wasn’t ready to go home. Tim wondered where Corey was right at this moment and he tried to imagine a life more exciting than the photographs on his refrigerator. Tim stopped at the Midnight Sun, ordered a drink he didn’t want and stared at the video screen. Everyone else was laughing at a scene from some old TV sitcom, but Tim’s thoughts were miles away. Tim wondered if he would ever meet a great guy who wasn’t too young or too old or too weird or too something...

  “Hi there, Tim. Can I buy you a drink?” Tim hadn’t yet taken a sip from the one in his hand and he nearly dropped it. Dave Anderson, his high school track coach, was standing right behind him.

  “Yeah, it’s really me. Surprised you, huh? You look good, Tim! You’ve filled out some since high school. You’re not such a skinny kid anymore.” Tim had psyched himself up to see Jason tonight; he wasn’t prepared for this. Dave had been on his mind ever since that picture in the Chronicle, but Tim had convinced himself he’d only imagined it was Dave getting into that cab yesterday. His mind had been on Corey. Dave reached for his wallet. “Can I buy you a drink?” He repeated the question.

  “No, I’ve already got one. I can’t believe it’s you… after all this time… I can’t…” A Saturday Night Live spoof on the Presi
dent’s State of the Union address caused a roar of laughter to flood across the Midnight Sun. It was followed by an old music video of Madonna’s Express Yourself. Tim was relieved to hear something as familiar as Madonna. It had been years since he had laid eyes on this man he once thought he knew so well. “I just can’t… let’s… go someplace quieter, okay?”

  Neither of them spoke as they crossed Castro Street. A raucous crowd screamed approval at a drag queen’s antics on the tiny stage inside Harvey’s windows as they walked past. Tim tried to gauge Dave’s reaction, but he couldn’t. They made their way through a cluster of smokers outside the Badlands and Tim said, “I saw your picture in the paper. I thought I saw you on the corner yesterday getting into a cab. That was you, wasn’t it? What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve been looking for you. I heard you worked in a bar near 18th and Castro.”

  “I work in a restaurant, actually. It has a bar. But what about that preacher? Did he send you down to Castro Street to convert some fags to Jesus?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got all night,” Tim said, trying to make it sound more like a threat than an invitation. He was relieved that the Edge wasn’t hosting a fundraiser tonight. They crossed the room and found two stools near the back without anyone stopping Tim to talk. He had to admit that Dave looked good too. He did some quick arithmetic in his head and guessed his old coach must be in his late thirties by now. The grainy pictures in the paper didn’t do him justice.

  “Hi Tim… the usual?” the bartender asked.

  “Make it two. I’ll have whatever he’s having,” Dave said and reached for his wallet. “This place is nice, not too… gay. I didn’t know what to expect. I guess you’re a regular here.”

  “The Castro is like a small town, Dave, just like any small town Main Street in America, but we get more tourists than most small towns and we show them a better time.” Tim shook his head, still not sure that this moment was real. In all his visions, whether in dreams or wide awake, he had never pictured seeing Dave Anderson in the flesh again. Now they were acting like a couple of old friends. “If you don’t think this bar is too gay now, you should have seen it a few years back, before they remodeled. They used to have a thirty-foot shlong above the bar.”

  “A thirty-foot what?”

  “Cock… dick… penis! They got rid of it to make room for the gay grotto up there.” Tim tried to see if Dave reacted to anything, but he just kept staring at Tim, who felt like an exotic insect on the head of a pin. “What are you doing here, Dave?”

  “I told you. I came looking for you.”

  “But why?” Tim tried to keep his voice calm. He didn’t want to show any emotion.

  “To apologize, I guess… to hope you could forgive me.”

  Tim shook his head again, as if he only imagined what he was hearing. “But what are you doing in San Francisco?”

  ”You said you saw the papers, so you know all about the men’s rally this weekend… Arlo Montgomery?”

  ”I know all about Arlo Montgomery—the biggest gay-bashing bigot of them all. How did you get involved with him and how the hell do you reconcile that… with this… with looking for me?”

  ”I told you it’s a long story, Tim. When I first met Arlo I thought he could help me. He was a therapist before he got into this religious business. It is a business, you know. I’d made one mistake and I thought he could help me through my problem. I had a wife and a little girl. She’s a teenager now. You should see her, Tim. She’s beautiful. She’ll be starting college soon.”

  Tim cringed and took a swallow of his drink. He was glad they were at the Edge because they made the strongest drinks in town. “Yeah, she must be a little older than I was when you first met me.”

  Dave was oblivious to any sting in Tim’s remark. “I thought Arlo could help me salvage my life. I thought I could prove I was serious about cleaning up the mess I’d made.”

  “Mistake! Problem! Mess!” Tim tried not to shout, but he was spitting his words out. “Is that what I was to you?”

  A young man in a purple Mohawk came out of the Men’s room with a roll of tape and a stack of flyers. “Fight back against the bigots! Join the protest Saturday night! The Christian Right is wrong!” he shouted as he walked toward the front door of the bar. “Defend the separation of Church and State!” He handed out flyers on the way and scattered several along the bar. One landed in front of Tim.

  “What’s all this?” Dave asked.

  “It’s a list of events to protest Arlo Montgomery and your little rally at the Civic Center this weekend. It looks like people have gotten organized in the past few days, even with the big dance party coming up on Saturday night. I’m proud of them.”

  “Arlo Montgomery isn’t who you think he is, Tim,” Dave said. “And you weren’t a mistake. I was the one who made a mistake. I was wrong to deny my feelings for you and I had no business getting involved with you like that and then letting you take the blame for what happened. I’m really sorry.”

  “What do you want from me, Dave?” Tim asked.

  “Nothing.” David Anderson took a slug off his drink and spun around in his stool to put his elbows on the bar. “If you could forgive me, that would be great, but I can’t ask for that. I guess I just needed to find you and see for myself that you came through it all in one piece.”

  “I’m fine, Dave… really. You weren’t the only man who ever hurt me and I’m sure I haven’t met the last.” Tim turned and looked at his coach, his first lover, and he almost felt sorry for him.

  “You weren’t the only person I hurt either, Tim,” Dave said. “I tried to go back to my wife, but there have been other guys since you. I’d learned some things, though. I never got involved with anyone as young as you were and no one who was as near to home. But there were lots of trips to Chicago, New York, Miami...”

  “But how did you get mixed up with this preacher, Dave?” Tim asked.

  “I told you. I thought he could help me, but he was a businessman first. He saw the power of the Christian conservatives in this country and he recognized how many strings they’re able to pull in the government. He realized he could make a lot of money preying on people’s fears.”

  “That’s disgusting! It’s an insult to all the decent religious people. They’re not all hypocrites, you know. I’ve known a lot of real Christians… my Aunt Ruth, for example. Some of them even try to make the world a better place,” Tim said. “San Francisco doesn’t tolerate bigots. There’s going to be a lot of angry people out there protesting this weekend and they’re not all just gay people, either.”

  “I know, Tim, and I’m going to do everything I can to put a stop to it. It’s the least I can do. Just think of it as my way of making it up to you, okay? None of these protests will even be necessary.” Dave looked at the flyer again and shook his head.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t tell you right now, but you’ll see. Trust me. Can I buy you another drink, handsome?”

  Chapter 9

  On Thursday morning it took Tim a minute to remember what day it was. He tried to remember how many drinks he’d put away last night and then he remembered his encounter with Dave Anderson as if it had been a dream. He forced one eye open and slid his hand across the bed, relieved to find it empty.

  Tim plodded naked down the hall to put the coffee on and he opened the back door onto his patio. He felt even more relief that the fog had finally come in sometime during the night after such a rare clear evening. The gray day suited him. At least it didn’t lure him to the beach. He considered going straight back to bed, but he found his newspaper at the door again and thought he should do something nice for Teresa one of these days. Sometimes he felt sorry for straight women in San Francisco, especially in the Castro. What chance did they have?

  As the coffee brewed he flipped through the headlines and scanned the Bay Area section: Some gays gear up to fight religious crusade while others choose to
party. Tim was glad the Chronicle ran a picture of the giant mirror ball advertising the dance at the Moscone Center. He feared he might have dreamed all that, too.

  He flipped to Page Two of the Datebook where he always read Jon Carroll and Leah Garchik, but Tim wasn’t awake enough to focus on them yet. Memories of last night became clearer with his first sips of coffee. They were jumbled together and mixed up with his horny dreams of high school locker rooms, jock straps, track meets and his old coach Dave Anderson.

  If anyone asked, Tim would swear there was nowhere he’d rather be than San Francisco. Even when things weren’t great, they were good. Disappointments occurred, but a terrible day’s events in Minnesota, if they happened here, would cause one that was merely okay. Tim smiled when he thought of Jason’s old saying: “You know you’ve brought home the wrong guy if you define eternity by the time between when you cum and he goes.”

  There were much worse things than a lousy date, such as a drop in his T-cells or the end of a love affair. Tim could sometimes ease the minor pains in life with a ride on the F-line streetcar to the Ferry Building and a long jog along the waterfront. Some days a half an hour at the gym cleared his head. But today Tim wished he were someplace else. Running would only remind him of Dave Anderson. His real trouble was that he had no one to talk to and it was his own fault. He could have told plenty of people about his past, but he didn’t.

  He knew that most San Franciscans’ hearts were in the right place. For every good cause there were people ready to open their wallets and volunteers willing to donate their talents and hard work, but there was one unwritten rule. Nobody would tolerate a bore. For every sad coming-out story, there was a sadder one, a more homophobic father in an even smaller, more conservative town. Tim’s experience with Dave ranked at next to nothing compared to some of the horror stories he’d heard. He carried his coffee to the living room, sat down by the bay window and flicked on the computer. There was only one person who knew what Tim had been through and she would always listen.