Wired Man and Other Freaks of Nature

by Sashi Kaufman

  “Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me!” she shouted along to the lyrics.

  “Nice,” he said. “Are you almost done?”

  Ilona nodded and then gestured at him with the hose. He hopped backwards before she could do anything about it. She smiled wickedly. The greenhouse was one of the only places that Ilona smiled on a regular basis. There was something else about her that looked different that night, but he wasn’t sure what it was and Ilona didn’t really tolerate staring. When she turned off the hose, coiled it, and placed it under one of the long wooden benches, she looked up and he realized what it was.

  “Hey,” he shouted over the music. “Your hair’s different.” It was pushed back off her face somehow. It made her look younger, not innocent but more open somehow.

  Ilona looked at him suspiciously. She walked over to the boom box and shut off the music. Then she pulled the thin elastic headband down around her neck and her hair fell back around her face. “So?” she said. “Where’ve you been anyway?”

  “I don’t know, around. You’ve been working.”

  “Not that much.”

  “Your hair. It looks different. I mean, it looks good.”

  “Yeah, it matches my corporate polo,” she said, pulling at her Broadway Gardens work shirt. She gave him another funny look and then just shook her head. “What’s going on?”

  Ben took a deep breath. “Uh, a lot, really.”

  Ilona put the radio on the floor and pulled a second beat-up plastic chair from behind one of the wooden tables. They sat down and Ilona stretched out her legs, propping up her boots on Ben’s thigh. “You mind?” she asked. She listened as he recounted the day at the aquarium and the conversation with Tyler.

  “Whoa,” Ilona said when he was finished. “That Scott guy should be arrested. Did you know him?”

  Ben winced at the sound of the name. “Yeah, of course I knew him. He lived at Tyler’s house for a year at least.” What else did he know? He knew Tyler liked him a lot at first and then hated him. He never asked why. He could have asked why. There was a slow drizzle of watery mud leaking off Ilona’s boot and down his pant leg, but he didn’t push her away. Instead he let his hands fall on her bare calves, just let them rest there like they might on the arms of a comfy chair. Even without moving his hands, which he didn’t dare do in case Ilona accused him of being some kind perv, he felt the smooth skin and the tiny prickles of new hair.

  Ilona was staring up at a hanging plant with large purple blooms dripping down out of the basket. Suddenly she reached up and grabbed one, shaking a dusting of dirt down on top of Ben’s head.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Listen, that is really messed up.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “I mean, it’s one thing—the two of you and whatever. But the babysitter? An older guy in a position of power? That’s just wrong.”

  “I know.”

  “Did you tell him that?”

  Ben paused. “Not in so many words.”

  Ilona shook her head. “What is it with you two? You can’t say shit to each other.”

  “We’re working on it,” Ben said, because he hoped it was true.

  Ilona shrugged. Then she looked down as if she were just noticing his hands on her legs. Her mouth curled up at the corner. “Want to go get drunk?”

  “It’s Thursday.”

  “And in four hours it will be Friday. Come on, we’ll go to my house. I can throw your bike in the jeep. If you need to swing by your house and fish your balls out of your mother’s purse, it’s on the way.”

  “Ha, ha,” Ben said. “My mother doesn’t believe in purses.”

  “Of course she doesn’t,” Ilona said. But he was already following her out of the greenhouse, thinking about what was going on in his first few classes the next day since he was bound to be more than a bit fuzzy, if he was present at all.

  He was fuzzy for class the next day, but then after school he found himself back at Ilona’s, sipping Captain and Coke on the roof of her house. It wasn’t technically her roof, just a small area outside her bedroom window where the living room bumped out into the yard. Tyler was there too, and they were all thoroughly buzzed. It was a freak warm day, and the sun was making them drink more and drink quickly. He wondered if being drunk or high two days in a row was enough to qualify you as having a problem.

  Hanging out with Tyler and Ilona took some of the pressure off—as though with her there it simply wasn’t possible to talk about all the things that they should talk about. Tyler was dating someone again—one of Megan’s friends, actually, which was kind of weird. He wondered if Megan knew about it and if she cared. He didn’t plan to bring up Scott again or anything else related to what Tyler had confided in him, so he was pretty surprised when Tyler, who was sprawled out with his head in Ilona’s lap and his legs overlapping Ben’s, blurted out, “How do you know if you’re gay?”

  Ben coughed hard, sending an ice cube spinning out of his mouth into the boughs of a nearby pine tree. “What do you mean?”

  “What do you mean, what do I mean? I mean how do you know? Does everyone just know? Or do you think it could just sneak up on you?”

  Ilona leaned back, her elbows pressed into the roof shingles. Ben couldn’t tell through her mirrored trucker glasses where she was looking. “Do you want to hump dudes?”

  “No,” Tyler said.

  “Do you want them to hump you?” Tyler shook his head. “Well then, mostly likely you’re not gay.”

  But Tyler looked skeptical. “But what if I’m repressing it? I mean, what if it’s like this seed buried in me that’s just waiting to grow?” Ben remained silent. He couldn’t help but feel like it was only Ilona who should say anything on the topic. Like Tyler wanted him there, but not to speak.

  Ilona took a long, slow sip of her drink. “I’m not an expert, but I’m pretty sure most people know if they’re gay by the time they’re in high school. And if they don’t know or they’re repressing it or whatever, they definitely wouldn’t be having this conversation. I mean, repression is repression. There’s not repression-lite.” She gestured with her drink, which sloshed up and over the rim onto her thighs. Tyler turned his face to one side and licked the soda and booze mixture off her leg. Ilona knocked his head around with her legs. It was a weird juxtaposition to the topic of conversation.

  Suddenly Ben felt like a complete asshole. What was he doing here? It was so obvious what was going on, or what was about to go on. He stood up suddenly, but the booze made his head spin. “Where are you going?” Ilona asked.

  “I gotta piss,” he mumbled. He stepped back through the window and hoisted himself over Ilona’s clothes, which were mounded on the floor. He closed himself in her bathroom and sank down onto the closed toilet lid, holding his spinning head in his hands for a minute. When he stood up he realized he really did have to piss, which he did and then splashed his face with cold water. He stared into the mirror trying to figure out if he was really jealous, and if he was, did he have a reason to be? And if he was, what the hell did that mean anyway? And then Ilona pushed the door open.

  “You really don’t understand the meaning of a closed door, do you?”

  “You said you had to piss, not take a dump. I figured you were probably hiding in here being all weird and overthinking things.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing,” he mumbled. Ilona just raised her eyebrows like she knew better. “Shut up,” he added.

  “For the record, I get it now.”

  “Get what?”

  “What you see in Tyler. I mean, I really thought he was a douche bag. I kind of wanted him to be a douche bag. He’s so damn pretty.” Ben felt the burning feeling in his gut migrate up into his throat. Ilona pushed her shades back up onto her head, which made her hair fan out like a spiky blue tiara. “He’s good, isn’t he? Sincere. He loves what he loves.”

  “I gotta get going,” Ben said.

  Ilona squinted at him. �
��Why? Because he licked my leg? Don’t be such a sour-pants kid.” She pushed gently on his chest. “That’s not going to happen with me and Tyler. I don’t care how pretty he is.”

  “Why?” Ben asked, embarrassed that he needed to know, embarrassed that he was so obvious about this thing.

  “Because he’s all this.” She gestured in front of her face like she was showing off a mask. “He might not act like a head case in public, but he is one. And I’m not really into head cases. I get enough of that around here with Judy. We’re all freaks, I just prefer it when people fly their flag on the outside instead of pretending so hard to be normal.” She exhaled sharply through her nose. “Sound like anyone we know?”

  “Shut up,” Ben said again.

  Ilona just rolled her eyes. “Don’t puss out and leave. I’ve got a plan for us, for later.”

  “All of us?”

  “Not like that, you filthy monkey. I told you, I’m not getting involved with the two of you and your weird sex fantasies.” She laughed as the fire rose up in Ben’s cheeks and he pushed past her out of the bathroom. He thought about leaving, casually yelling “see ya” and walking out of the house. But he didn’t. He didn’t want to be anywhere else.

  Chapter 27

  “A gay bar?” Tyler sounded skeptical.

  “It’s not just a gay bar, it’s a club. An all-ages club,” Ilona stressed.

  “Called the Man Ray?” Ben said. “It sounds like a gay club.”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure they don’t check out your sexuality at the door,” Ilona said. “Come on, we can go dancing.” She looked at Tyler. “You can test your theory.”

  “You think he should pretend to be gay?” Ben said.

  Ilona sighed. “No, not pretend to be gay. Just, you know, saturate himself in a little bit of the homo-world. Maybe throw on a tight V-neck T-shirt.”

  “Those are gay?” Ben pulled at the collar of his long-sleeve shirt, peeking in at his undershirt. Crew neck.

  Ilona shook her head. “They don’t make you gay, dummy, they’re just enjoyed by the gays. Tyler can chum the waters a bit and see how he responds. Who knows, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he’s a big closeted Mo in the making.” They stared at her. “A ho-mo?” She shook her head again. “You two are so straight, sometimes I think I might die of gender role boredom.”

  Ben didn’t say anything, waiting for Tyler to shoot the idea down. But Tyler sat up suddenly. “I’m in,” he said. “Seriously.”

  “I thought you had plans with Lexi?” Ben asked.

  “I’ll text her.”

  “To come with us?”

  “No!” Tyler said. “But you’re coming, right?”

  Ilona grinned at him. He scowled back, “I guess so.”

  The line outside the club stretched halfway down the block. Ilona made them leave their jackets in the car. She said there would be nowhere to put them in the club. Ben was cold but he didn’t argue. He didn’t really want to admit that he had never been to a club before, much less a gay club. He was pretty sure, at least, that Tyler never had either. They had to walk past the long line of people waiting to get in to take their place at the end of the line. Ben tried not to make eye contact with anybody, but he was aware that they were all being checked out, by guys and girls.

  Only Ilona seemed at ease. She jumped up and down to stay warm and chatted with the people in front and in back of them as they waited to get in. At least the line was moving, which gave Ben hope and something to do instead of just standing there admiring the graffiti on the club wall. They had spent a little too much time stuck next to the neon pink cock and balls with the words “Man Ray” spurting out the head of the penis.

  Finally they were at the front of the line, where they paid ten dollars for the privilege of wearing a pink plastic bracelet stamped with the words “Under 21.” Two older guys with skintight jeans bypassed the line, blowing kisses to the bouncer and eyeing their underage bracelets. “Jailbait,” one of them whispered as they went past. When they opened the heavy unmarked black door behind the bouncer, a blast of music and flashing lights surged into the street. Ilona hopped up and down excitedly and pulled them along behind her into the club.

  The music was a pulsing techno beat. Ben thought he recognized the sounds of last summer’s pop hits threaded through behind the beat. Ilona pulled them into what would turn out to be the first of many dance areas. She pushed them back against the wall and yelled for them to wait there. A few minutes later, she was back with three plastic cups of beer. “How?” Tyler shouted at her.

  “It’s easy,” she shouted back. “You just ask someone to get them for you.” Ben looked around nervously. “It’s not a high school dance,” Ilona shouted. “No one cares!” It seemed she was right. He was glad to have it. This was definitely a situation that could use a little bit of the edge taken off. He sipped slowly from his cup, letting the headache—probably from drinking earlier in the afternoon—drift away. The place was packed, and it wasn’t like a high school dance where people formed small groups and sort of half-talked, half-danced until that one song came on that made everyone forget that they felt like a complete asshole and start shaking around in whatever ridiculous way seemed cool and acceptable at that moment. Not that he had ever even ventured as far as one of those half-dancing circles. Usually, if he had even made it to a dance—it meant Tyler had dragged him along—he just hung out with some of the other soccer guys on the sidelines, checking out the freshman and sophomore girls and pretending like they were cooler for being on the sidelines.

  No one here was pretending not to dance. He had never seen men dance the way the men on this dance floor were dancing. Their whole bodies moved like they were made of some kind of superheated liquid. And they were touching each other, grinding and folding into one another. He watched one guy who was wearing bright yellow pants and a thin white tank top. He was dancing with one guy and then another, and sometimes he was dancing by himself, totally unself-consciously. Ben wished that for once in his life he could be that unself-conscious and not care what people thought when they looked at him. Suddenly the man looked around and made eye contact directly with him. Ben shot his eyes in some other direction, feeling like he was naked. When he slid his eyes back to check, the yellow pants guy was still looking at him, smiling and dancing all the while. He beckoned at Ben with a hooked finger. Ben smiled nervously but shook his head. “Careful,” Ilona said. “Unless you want a dance partner, it’s better not to make eye contact in here.” She laughed at Ben’s obvious discomfort. “You want me to pretend I’m your girlfriend?” She pushed him back into the wall—which was covered with sound absorbing black foam—and began nuzzling at his neck. Holy shit, he was hard in a second. This was Ilona! He pushed her away. She was laughing and tossing her head to the pulsing music.

  At least when he looked up the yellow pants guy was dancing with someone else. Ilona used her magic to get them another drink, which Ben drank more quickly than the first. Abstinence could wait for the weekend. Tyler set his drink down between his feet and pulled off the long-sleeved T-shirt he was wearing to reveal a tight black V-neck. Ben felt his jaw drop a little. “What?” Tyler said. “I just want to know. And this is the place to find out.” Even Ilona looked a little surprised. Within a few minutes, a guy with a Mohawk and a silver tank top gyrated in their direction and asked Tyler to dance. Ben stood there, mouth agape, as Tyler followed the guy out onto the dance floor.

  “Do you think we should go with him?”

  “Why?” Ilona said. “The guy’s gay, he’s not a rabid dog. I’m impressed. I didn’t think Tyler would do it.” Then it was just the two of them. “So,” Ilona said, whispering in his ear so he could hear her. “Are you going to dance with me? Or am I going to have to go find some gay boys to hang all over?”

  Normally he followed pretty strict rules about dancing—which meant that he didn’t. But nothing about this situation was normal. And the thought of standing here by himself with his beer and wardin
g off potential male suitors was way worse than any way he might embarrass himself on the dance floor. Plus, he could still feel warm spots on his neck where Ilona had pressed her lips. “Okay,” he said. She grabbed his hand and pulled him behind her to the center of the dance floor. He pounded what remained of his beer and let the crumpled cup fall on the floor. He shrugged, and Ilona laughed and looked like she might have said something. It was so loud in the middle of the dance floor. He couldn’t hear anything. He tried to dance, but the not-hearing feeling was sickening and distracting. He started wondering about ways to get out of the club, an illness he could fake or emergency phone calls he could suddenly receive.

  “WHAT’S WRONG?” Ilona was staring at him. She looked confused.

  He shrugged and tried to fake it a bit more convincingly. Ilona wasn’t buying it. He took a deep breath, rubbed his face with his hand, and tried not to touch his ears. “I can’t hear anything,” he said, almost hoping the music would hide his words.

  Ilona smiled at him. It was a strange smile for her, so sincere. She narrowed her eyes a little and shook her head. Then she mouthed at him, “NO ONE CAN HEAR ANYTHING.” And then before he could stop her, before he could push her hands away or even say anything, she reached up, placing her thumbs gently on his cheeks, and unhooked his hearing aids from behind his ears. He could feel his mouth hanging open just a little. The backs of his ears felt like ice and then suddenly they were burning hot and exposed—completely exposed.

  It was a dare; he could see that from the playful but kind look in her eyes. She grabbed him by the belt and pulled him by the front of his pants toward her. He didn’t try and stop her as she shoved the hearing aids deep down into his pockets and pulled her hands slowly back out. And then she started to dance.