Where the Boys Are

by William J. Mann

  He backs off a little. “That’s different, Jeff.”

  “How so?” He’s given me the perfect opening; I’m not going to let it pass. “Maybe I only knew Anthony a few hours before I let him move in, but how much longer had you known Eva? A few months? Come on, Lloyd. Isn’t Eva as much a mystery to you as Anthony is to me?”

  He shakes his head in that stubborn, obstinate, superior way of his, the one that used to drive me mad when we lived together. “Jeff, I know a lot about who she is,” he insists. “Too much, sometimes, even.” He pauses. “Though I’ll admit that a friend of hers tried to tell me something, but I cut him off.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  He looks at me as if the answer is obvious. “Because she’s a friend. And I don’t like talking about friends behind their backs.”

  I lean in closer to him. I can smell his aftershave. I’ve missed that smell. Part of me just wants to kiss him and forget all this. Suddenly, in my mind it’s eight years ago, and Lloyd and I are vacationing on St. Croix, and we haven’t a care in the world and man, he looks so hot in that bright-blue Speedo. We dive into the water, splashing each other. We make love on the beach. But I catch myself. I have to say what I’m thinking.

  “Lloyd, I’ll be blunt with you. I think Eva is far more likely to turn out to be an ax-murderer than Anthony is. I think she’s unstable. I get the sense she could go a little loco on you if you don’t live up the image she’s got in her head.”

  “Oh, please, Jeff …”

  “I mean it, Lloyd. It’s you she wants. Not a guest house in Provincetown. You could be opening up a laundromat together and she’d be just as into it.”

  His face grows stern. “Jeff, I meant what I said. I appreciate your concern, but I’m not comfortable talking about her behind her back.”

  Oh, if this isn’t so typical Lloyd. “So you think I ought to be running around doing background checks on Anthony, but it’s not okay for you and me to discuss Eva!”

  “Jeff, the two situations are very different.”

  “Come on, Lloyd! You’re—”

  The door opens. We turn to look up at Anthony and Eva coming back inside, their cheeks rosy. They’re smiling and laughing together.

  “The store was closed,” Eva says, “but what a wonderful time we had throwing snowballs at each other!”

  “She’s so much fun!” Anthony exclaims to Lloyd, who just smiles tightly.

  “I felt like a teenager again,” Eva gushes, hugging Anthony around the waist.

  I stand and walk into the kitchen. This is all just too far out. Why the fuck did Lloyd come here today, anyway? He messes up my head with those damn flowers and then pulls back yet again, all hands-off, when I dare to talk about Eva. God, I hate her.

  But I hate even more feeling so petty.

  I turn around. Anthony has come into the kitchen behind me.

  “Jeff,” he whispers, his face all red and shiny from the cold, “if you and Lloyd want to be alone, I can go stay somewhere else tonight.”

  “No, no.” I look from him over at the flowers he brought me, sitting on the top of the refrigerator. “Lloyd’s not staying. They’re going back to Provincetown tonight.”

  Anthony smiles. “Well, I’m glad. I have to admit I feel a little jealous. I know that’s stupid, but I do.”

  My heart melts. Damn, it sure has a habit of doing that.

  “It’s not stupid at all,” I tell Anthony. “And hey. I really appreciated the flowers.”

  “Happy Valentine’s Day,” Anthony says. I smile.

  When we get back to the living room, Lloyd is putting on his coat. “Do you want to have dinner with us?” he asks. “After we get back from Pottery Barn?”

  Eva takes my hands in hers. They’re icy. “Oh, I’d so love for you to join us,” she says, looking up at me with those eyes, as if I hadn’t been nasty to her earlier, as if she were really being sincere. “You and Anthony both.”

  I look from her over to Lloyd. There’s no question I would like to spend Valentine’s Day with him. No question I’d like to sit across from him at a restaurant with a bottle of wine. No question I’d like to be with him tonight, so many happy Valentine’s memories living between us. But not with her along. Not with her going on and on about all they have to do and all the plans they’re making. They, they, they.

  “Thanks, but I promised Anthony we’d go out,” I say at last. I feel awful, especially when Lloyd looks away in disappointment. But in exchange I see a small, grateful smile creep across Anthony’s face.

  “Are you sure?” Eva’s asking, busy with her gloves. “Oh, well, some other time, then. You must come down and visit us soon, Jeff. I’ll cook a marvelous dinner!”

  Anthony extends his hand to her, but she moves in for a tight hug instead. “Thank you so much, Anthony. I so enjoyed spending time with you. You must come with Jeff when he comes down to the Cape.”

  Lloyd comes over to me. We embrace. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Cat,” he whispers.

  My throat is too tight to reply.

  After they’re gone, I let out a long sigh.

  “I think Eva is going to write to you,” Anthony says as he heads into the shower.

  I look after him, puzzled. “Write me? Why?”

  “I don’t know. She asked for your E-mail. I hope it’s okay that I gave it to her.”

  Whatever she has to say, I’m not sure I want to read it. My heart feels all melted down to nothing. I press my face into Lloyd’s daisies, inhaling their tangy fragrance. From the shower I can hear Anthony singing: “I’m naked without you …”

  His voice seems to dislodge Mr. Tompkins from the couch. The cat jumps down, stretches, then walks over to the door from which Lloyd has so recently departed. Plopping down his enormous body, he completely obliterates the doormat. As always, he’s determined to wait there until Lloyd has returned.

  A Few Hours Later on Route 3, Forty Miles South of Boston

  Lloyd

  “Lloyd,” she’s saying, “I haven’t given you my Valentine’s gift yet.”

  I grimace. It’s dark, and it’s started to rain slightly, a slushy, snowy mix. The wipers are having trouble keeping the windshield clear. I’m certainly not in the mood to be opening up Valentine’s trinkets while trying to keep my eyes on the road. Besides, I’m still in a bad mood from the visit with Jeff. Yet again I’d gone to see him, made the effort, trying to get us back on track. I even brought him daisies. But he remains so intractable, so stubborn about accepting my venture with Eva, irrationally jealous of her and making outrageous claims.

  Sure, I have my own worries about Eva, but unstable? Just who’s unstable here? Who’s the one who took in some unknown stray who keeps his past a deep, dark secret? That’s not exactly the most stable act, in my opinion. Once more, Jeff has gotten caught up with a trick, just as he did with that Eduardo kid a few years ago, completely blind to what it’s doing to us.

  Us. Maybe such a construct no longer exists. Is it over, then? The thought hits me like a physical force. Could all those months of reconnection really have been leading nowhere? Is Jeff really so—

  “Lloyd?”

  I turn. Eva’s leaning in closer to me, holding something in her hand. She switches on the overhead light. It’s a small package wrapped in a piece of silk.

  “Eva, I can’t really …” I gesture with my head to the road in front of us.

  “Oh.” She nods. “Of course. Here, let me unwrap it for you.”

  I sigh. “Eva, you shouldn’t have done anything. I didn’t get you a gift. I’m sorry.”

  Part of me had, of course, expected her to do something. Part of me knew she wouldn’t just let Valentine’s Day pass without offering some token of her affection. It’s sweet, it really is—and I truly believe that gift-giving is about the giving. If she wants to give me something, then she should. But still I feet awkward being empty-handed. True, I paid for dinner, but that didn’t come wrapped in silk.

  “It’
s okay, Lloyd,” she says softly, reassuring me. “I didn’t expect anything.”

  She unfolds the silk wrapping to reveal a small wooden box. “Hang on,” I say, aware that I’m not fully participating in the romantic mood she’s trying to set up. But there’s an eight-wheeler coming up fast on my ass, and I really don’t want to get us killed. I switch on my signal and more over to the right lane. The road is getting slushier. The wipers squeak across the glass.

  “What’s in the box?” I ask, a little reluctantly, even a little petulantly.

  She lifts the lid. I can’t see right away. “What do you think?” she asks.

  “What is it?”

  She holds the box up in front of my face.

  “Eva! Please! I’m trying to drive here!”

  She withdraws the box quickly. “I’m sorry.” She makes a little sob. “It’s just that this means something to me. And you seem as if you don’t even want it.”

  I sigh. “Let me see it again.” She holds the box out in her hand. It’s a ring. A ring with a green stone. “What—what is that?”

  She smiles weakly. “It was Steven’s. I bought it for him on our fifth anniversary. It’s an emerald, Lloyd. To match your eyes.”

  I’m flabbergasted. “Eva,” I say slowly, “I can’t accept that.”

  “Of course you can!”

  “No, I can’t. It was—yours and Steven’s. You should keep it!”

  “Oh, darling,” she says, leaning over toward me again. “I want to give it to you. For all you’ve given to me.”

  “First of all,” I say, my eyes in the rearview mirror, “please don’t call me ‘darling.’ Second of all, I can’t accept it because it’s just too much. Too intimate. Too much like we’re lovers, and we’re not, Eva. We are friends. We are business partners. We are not lovers and that is a lover’s gift!”

  There’s silence, except for the steady squeaking of the windshield wipers. I reach up and switch off the overhead light.

  “Eva?”

  No response from the darkness.

  “Eva?”

  Suddenly she bursts out with an enormous sob. As if all at once she’d been stabbed with a spear up her gut. I jump, grabbing tight onto the wheel, trying to keep the car steady. I catch a quick glimpse of her as we pass under a streetlamp. Her face is contorted, her mouth open. It looks as if she’s baying at the moon.

  “Eva, please!”

  “Stop this car!” she demands. “Stop—this—car!”

  “Eva, I can’t stop—”

  “Pull into that rest stop there! Stop this car!”

  “Eva, I’m not—”

  “Stop this car!”

  I swerve all at once, feeling the slushy road under me, praying to God we won’t skid off the road. Slamming on my brakes after pulling into the rest stop. I turn, ready to tell her to stop being so crazy, that she almost caused us to have an accident …

  … when she opens up her door and runs off into the night.

  I sit in stunned silence. What the fuck just happened here?

  I feel the cold and dampness from the open door. I sit staring at it for a few seconds. Finally I reach over and pull it closed.

  I will not enable this behavior, I think. I will not go running out there looking for her. That is what she wants me to do. I will sit here and wait for her to come back. It is cold and rainy and she will come back in eventually. Hell, I should just drive off and leave her. That would …

  Ahead of me several yards there’s a car parked. I watch as the driver’s-side door opens, momentarily lighting up the interior. A man steps out, pulling a baseball cap far down onto his head. He slams the door and the light goes off. I hear a beep sound. An automatic security device. I think I can discern the man walk into the woods on the side of the rest stop.

  Where Eva has fled.

  Holy Jesus, I think. I can’t leave her out there now, with some guy …

  I take a deep breath and open my car door. It’s just above freezing, thank God, but it’s still cold, especially with the rain-snow mix sliding down the back of my jacket. I step through the slushy mess up onto the grass. “Eva!” I shout. “Where the fuck are you?’

  I can’t believe this is happening. I take a few steps toward the woods and call her name again. Nothing. No sound. No sight of her.

  I venture past the first thicket of trees. In front of me stands an aluminum chain-link fence. A section has been cut from it, enough space for a person to pass through. I suddenly realize why, and who has done it. Men stop here and go into the woods to blow each other. Javitz used to tell me all about places like this. Jeff’s recounted a few escapades here himself. Oh, Christ, I think. That’s what that guy from the car was looking for. He saw someone run in here. Wait’ll he finds out she’s a woman!

  I push on ahead. “Eva!”

  I hear her before I see her. A low, wracking sob. I make out a figure huddled beside a tree. I approach her. She doesn’t even look at me. She just keeps crying softly to herself.

  “Eva, come with me,” I say gently, taking her by the shoulders. She doesn’t protest, just allows herself to be led away passively. On our way out, I spot the man from the car lurking in the bushes. God, even in the snow and the rain they come, I think with disbelief. “Sorry, buddy,” I say under my breath as we pass. “Nothing here for you.”

  Though right now I’d gladly hand Eva over to him.

  Once we’re back in the car, I look sternly at her, though she keeps her eyes averted.

  “Eva, something like this can never happen again. Do you understand?”

  She turns her big round eyes up at me. “I know you slept with Tyrone. Were you never going to tell me?”

  I don’t know how to respond right away. I open my mouth but say nothing.

  She unlatches the glove compartment and withdraws a Kleenex, dabbing at her eyes. “Oh, Lloyd, forgive me for being so silly. My behavior was atrocious. Of course it will never happen again.”

  I still don’t say anything, pulling back in my seat instead to watch her carefully.

  “It’s just that I felt you and I were friends. Good friends. When you didn’t tell me about Tyrone, I felt as if you didn’t trust me. I was worried about a pattern starting between us.” She looks at me suddenly, as if I’d been the one to misbehave, as if I were the one who needed scolding. “A pattern of deception, Lloyd. I can’t tolerate that. If we’re to have an honest, healthy relationship, there can be no deception.”

  “No deception,” I repeat back emotionlessly.

  “There needs to be one-hundred-percent honesty.” She takes a deep breath to calm herself. “I suppose it’s been building inside me. That’s why I reacted so outrageously just now. I am sorry, Lloyd. It was so unlike me.”

  I wonder.

  “Of course we’re not lovers.” She gives a sudden laugh and looks over at me. “What gave you the idea we were? I certainly don’t think of you in that way, Lloyd, and I’m sure you don’t think of me that way, either!” She sighs dramatically. “You see, my emotions have just been on edge. I wanted to give you that ring not for any other reason than to express my gratitude to you for giving me this new lease on life. I’m not sure if you can understand just how important that’s been for me.”

  “I know it’s important, Eva.”

  She reaches over and pats my hand. “Do you know why it mattered so much? Today, of all days? Not only is it Valentine’s Day, but it’s”—her voice chokes up again, and the tears return, though a bit less noisy this time—”it’s also Steven’s and my anniversary. We were married on Valentine’s Day. Today was always so special for us: all the little gifts he’d leave hidden around the house for me; all the little sweet things he’d do”—she covers her face in her hands—”oh, Lloyd, I miss him so!”

  I hesitate for a moment, not wanting to do it, but I do anyway. I put my arm around her. I can’t help it. I’m such a sucker. Too softhearted for my own good, Jeff often says. I’m taken in by every sad story anyone ever wants
to tell.

  But she can’t be lying. Not about this. I know how much she loved Steven. Running out of the car is still unacceptable, but I guess I can understand her grief. There are times I still feel like running away, as far and as fast as my legs can take me, and it’s been four years since Javitz died. My heart softens toward her and I tighten my arm over her shoulders.

  “Please take the ring,” she says in a broken voice. She’s retrieved it from the floor. “You don’t know how happy it would make me.”

  “Eva, I’m not Steven,” I say as tenderly as I can. “You can’t turn me into him.”

  Her hands grasp my face. “Oh, darling, Lloyd. Of course you’re not. You’re you. I don’t want you to be Steven. I want you to be you, the wonderful man who’s given me so much.” Our faces are only a couple of inches apart. I can smell her breath, slightly stale. I can feel the rush of her blood still thudding through her body. “Please accept this gift from me.”

  I sigh in resignation. She removes her hands and finds the ring in her lap. She slips it onto my finger. “There,” Eva says. “It fits you perfectly.”

  “Thank you” is all I can say, softly and without emotion. I turn and grip the steering wheel. The emerald flashes in the glare of a passing truck. I turn the ignition.

  It’s going to be a long drive back to Provincetown.

  The First Week of March, A Skyscraper Downtown

  Henry

  Once again I’m carrying a case full of goodies—the same things, in fact, I would’ve taken to Mardi Gras had I left with Jeff, Anthony, Shane, and Brent this morning as I’d originally planned, on a nine A.M. flight to New Orleans. It was to be a two-city circuit extravaganza, with a first stop at Mardi Gras, then on to the Winter Party in Miami. We couldn’t choose between them, so we decided to do both. Except then I backed out altogether.

  I was sorry to cancel. I’d had a great time last year, and I know Jeff is disappointed. He says I’ve been neglecting him lately, and maybe I have. But he’s got Anthony to keep him company now, hasn’t he? Why go and watch the two of them nuzzle on the dance floor for four and a half days? Anthony’s time is soon to be up; Jeff is going to tire of him soon. I know the routine very well. Jeff’s last few infatuations—Alexei and Zed and that kid from Missouri—had been all over him, barely allowing me a word in edgewise. Until, of course, they overstayed their welcomes and Jeff bid them so long, farewell, auf Wiedershen, good-bye. Of course, then Jeff was all too glad to have me back in his life.