Hide Fox, and All After

by Rafael Yglesias

  "You are, however, incapable of having a real relationship, incapable of focusing your love on any one being now. And guess what, kiddo? Precisely the same thing is true for me. So where's the difference? Only in our reactions to the same problem. One thing is stressed more in both cases. We both had complexes about our bodies. You're a little short, though now, it would be impossible to think that—you project an image so strong that one ignores it. Not even ignores it, one doesn't realize it. You've also got an incredible case of acne. But for fuck's sake, it ain't taken in that sense. They are so hardened, really they almost look wind-beaten, that they only add to the image of French seducer."

  Alec smiled with the relief of reaching calm waters after going over the hump of an enormous wave.

  "At one time, and even a little now, you were massively self-conscious. All right, now let's dissect me: I'm gangling, often awkward. But with great ease I'm at once insane, deformed; speaking significantly through the inference of madness. I play the image. I make myself more ridiculous physically than I was in the first place. So that I've even heightened my self-consciousness."

  "Okay, so what have we got? You got out of your sense of physical inadequacy by playing the opposite of your fear—and you did it. I made myself even more so. It's the same root: the psychology of an actor, of an artist. And to be able to play it so well that people, people, not fellow actors, are consumed by our vortex of imagery, brother, we gotta be geniuses."

  "And even then I don't mean 'genius' in its common sense. I mean that that quality is the stuff genius is made of—in that sense even American businessmen in the intrigues of opportunism reach some level of genius. But, in us, it is heightened, intense. Now what I meant about Richard was that that was not in him. That he played no such games; that he controlled no one, no groups, or the atmosphere of moods. And in that sense he is not like us: he is not a genius."

  Raul's throat was parched. He dragged on his cigarette as if it were a soothing source.

  Alec had been deluged by this flood. Everything that Raul said was so personal to him that his movements within the labyrinth of Raul's thought made him feel aged.

  Alec had walked into Mike & Gino's with his first impression of Raul altered only by the admiration his mother had for Raul's performance in Aria da Capo. It had been annoying to hear him praised. He had seemed just like a quiet ninth grader who looked incredibly tall and skinny. But for his mother's praise, he remembered him that way—even wanted to, because of his mother's compliments. And now, in a matter of moments, Raul had shifted levels so quickly, so often.

  Raul sat there now, having explained a truth that was close to him; Alec believed him his intellectual superior, and might have reacted with awe except for Raul's mad way of carrying himself. Raul relaxed, speaking of trivia, had no power, whereas Alec was a master of control at all times. Raul made up for his long periods without it by the intensity of his bursts.

  "You know it just hit me," Alec said, "that you're a ninth grader. It's incredible."

  "It has always astonished me. When I hit my fourteenth birthday and it was pointed out to me that I was fourteen, there was nothing I could do but laugh. It was a marvelously ridiculous idea."

  Alec looked at Raul for a time. "You're too Elizabethan," he said. "You shouldn't be in this century." Raul smiled.

  Alec suddenly became suspicious. But he had a test, which, though very simple, always worked well. "Raul, you said something before… Look, are you a virgin?"

  "Well…" Raul stopped thoughtfully. All of Alec's system whirred back into action. Perhaps this had been phony, a formula might be reached.

  "Frankly," Raul said, "yes." And he laughed. Raul seemed ironic; it caused havoc in Alec's system.

  "It is to my disgrace, I admit it. But I've already pointed out the logic of it. I can't focus my love on one being, and if I could it would dissipate my art."

  Alec became fatherly, "Ah, but who parts with his soul or being into fucking? Fucking, itself, is an art."

  "It's an extension of art for you, I said that already. But I can't fuck hypocritically. I have an infinite capacity for guilt."

  "But the way I made it into an acting part, why can't you?"

  "It would ruin all my imagery of loners, of insane blackness. It is the Hamletian rejection of Ophelia."

  "But Hamlet wasn't mad."

  "He was mad in terms of the society. That makes him sane, of course. And that's my madness—every time I see or hear about the embarrassments of adolescent sex, I am in real pain. A lot of my abstention, which really isn't one at all because I simply can't handle it psychologically, is almost a political act."

  "But what you've just said amounts to meaning you're neurotic about it."

  "And you're neurotic about it in reverse. You can't avoid neurosis if you're an artist."

  "Neurosis is a repression. You're repressing, I'm not."

  "Listen," Raul said, laughing, "let's not make this name calling. But, Alec, we're both repressing. We are repressing the emotion of love. Or, 'cause I don't want to say love, we are repressing the instinct toward real, human relationships. It's just the same if you're married. That can be just as much a repression as chronic bachelorhood."

  "Touché."

  "Ah, we've reached an understanding."

  They smiled and relaxed.

  "But, Raul, you must have had some sex sometime."

  Raul chuckled at Alec's desperation. "Oh yeah. And it was ecstasy. But I had as much respect for the girl as I have for a toothpick. There are really good possibilities for me being a seducer. But you see, the moment I think thoughts like that, everything eats away at me. I'm corroded and empty. If it approaches any beauty, I begin to subconsciously destroy the relationship."

  Alec, remembering, sighed. Raul, suddenly bathing in memory, began, "I remember one time… No! I don't want to remember one time."

  He spoke with the intense seriousness of a child. Alec laughed at that. Raul captured the laughter and nodded. "Ah, life! Passing so…"

  "Eternity and the depths of hell."

  Raul murmured his agreement. The two were quiet until Alec asked for the time. Raul strained forward to see the clock. "It's about twenty of."

  "Really? That's all it is?"

  "Yeah, it does seem like it should be later than that."

  Alec looked about to see for himself: the knowledge of time was emptying for both.

  All the sounds of Mike & Gino's were of loneliness. Broad gusts of air blew from the open door down the corridor. Outside, New York was gray. People went up and down the subway steps hurriedly. About now, all Riverdale executives went downtown to their jobs: suits, attaché cases, and brisk steps. One came in and, out of breath, asked for the Times. Mike (or was it Gino?) spun agilely about and in the same circle of movement handed him the paper. The man meanwhile placed a dime on the counter and with the same brisk step was gone. It couldn't have been more than four seconds. The man moved up the subway steps two at a time, the tails of his gray jacket fluttering slightly.

  Raul had cramps from too much coffee and smoking on an empty stomach. He got up to buy a glazed doughnut.

  "Where're ya goin'?"

  "Huh? Oh. My stomach doesn't feel good. I'm gonna get something to eat."

  Seeing Raul come back with the doughnut, Alec said, "That's what you got to settle your stomach?"

  "That is pretty strange, isn't it?"

  The two fooled around for a while, Alec grabbing a piece of the doughnut, with Raul curling up in the corner of the booth, his left eye twitching, shoulders hunched, mumbling incoherently of thieves. Then Alec, staring ahead acridly, would let a hand stray, coming back eventually with another piece of the doughnut. Raul, in a livid state, pushed the rest of the sticky mass into Alec's face.

  Alec let it hang there loosely between his lips, placidly picking up his red bookbag and beating Raul over the head, finally hurling the doughnut too.

  He then rose swiftly. Looking in the mirror, he daintily
pushed his hair behind an ear. His face looked acidly dry. Raul crouched low beside Alec. "O beast, consumed of worms, thy fair mother awaits," he intoned, laughing huskily.

  Alec fixedly stared ahead into the mirror. He yawned. Raul quickly straightened up, like plastic snapping back from being bent. He looked at Alec mildly.

  Alec rigidly turned toward him. Raul collapsed to the floor. Alec burst out laughing. Raul got up, saying, "The tiles are dirty. Mike and/or Gino should do something about them. They're in disgraceful condition."

  Raul began brushing himself off. Alec got back into the booth. "You did that fall well."

  "Ah," Raul said, sliding back in, "I have had practice."

  Alec stared off vacantly. Raul lit a cigarette, glanced at Alec, and began rummaging about for a book. Suddenly Alec remembered Raul had said he had been cutting for two weeks. Before, Raul meant nothing to him, and so did the comment, but now… "Christ!"

  "What?"

  "You've been cutting for two weeks?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "Are you crazy? They're gonna find out."

  "I've cut before, and I've been caught before."

  "Well, they must have put you on probation, right? So…"

  "No, they didn't put me on probation. They just said forget it. Anyway, they already know I'm cutting. They've called twice."

  "And what happened?"

  "Nothing. First time, my father lied. Second time, he didn't."

  "Raul, they're gonna throw you out this time."

  "If they do, they do. I can't do anything about it."

  "Do you wanna get thrown out?"

  "Yes and no. Yes, I find school, any school, intolerable. No, I don't want to lose the theater. There isn't any other school with as good a theater."

  "If you want to stay in the theater, then you're going to have to stay in the school."

  "I know that. I mean I am aware of that mentally— in an abstract sense. But I don't feel it. In other words, I am not afraid of it when left alone. After reasoning with my parents and Mr. White, enough fear is instilled for me to panic. 'Straighten up and fly right,' as old White says."

  "Okay, but if you keep this up you're going to get thrown out. I don't think you want that."

  Raul sighed. It was an old and boring argument. "All right. Today is the last day. Now may we drop this specifically adolescent and tiresome question?"

  "It isn't adolescent at all. Just the opposite."

  "Oh, man, you're gonna say responsibility in a moment, an' I'll murder you."

  "I don't believe it's a question of responsibility. But it's the only way to do it."

  "You wouldn't say that if you were my age. After this year I've got three more years of high school."

  "That's true, that's certainly true." Alec stared off. "It's a pisser. Yes indeedee, it's a pisser."

  "I don't want to be arrogant, but you didn't feel the way I do now."

  "You're right. But I was younger in ninth grade than you."

  "How old are you?"

  "Sixteen."

  "You're kidding."

  "I skipped when I was in grammar school. I also went into school a year younger. Listen, Raul, I want you to be around. So could you stop cutting?"

  "Don't worry about school. I don't want to miss the plays, so I'll stop cutting."

  "Good. I hope this play goes well."

  "What part are you trying for?"

  "The Peasant."

  "Oh. That's the part I'm trying for. However, I don't expect to get it," Raul added quickly.

  Alec sneered. "Why not?"

  Raul couldn't help smiling. "Come on, the Peasant's second lead. Since when does he give second leads to ninth graders? Anyway, why aren't you going for Paul?"

  "He'll give that to Black."

  "Black? Black's a football player."

  "Ah, Raul, you warm one's heart."

  "He is a football player, right?"

  "Sure, but that doesn't… he has a truly booming voice and Mr. Miller has the bad habit of thinking that that's good acting."

  "You depress me. It's inconceivable. If he commits such a blasphemy to the stage I'll 'smote the circumcised dog—thus!'"

  "What from?"

  "It's not quite an exact quote from Othello. Last line before he kills himself."

  "And Miller'll be doing that play next year."

  "You're kidding. Who's gonna play Othello?"

  "Hinton. Miller's been planning that since Hinton was in the ninth grade."

  "Do you think he can do it?"

  "Probably. Hinton's really nice."

  "That's not a very good criterion for casting."

  "No, it isn't. I was just commenting."

  "Ah, yes. As it were, Cronkite commentary."

  "More or less speaking of…"

  "To relate about."

  "The vague promenade of human beings."

  "The march of fools."

  "The ides of April."

  Raul groaned. "One must have more finesse, eh?"

  "Very true. It was obscene."

  "But it was, in any case, a testimony of Cronkite."

  "A… gaggle of geese."

  "A veritable pride of lions."

  "Ah," Alec smiled, "you've rounded the question off well."

  "Not obesely, I hope?"

  "I don't think it's in you."

  "That, my dear boy, was an insult."

  Alec smiled. His Tareyton flowed up gently and, at an angle, met his lips. He dragged, letting a small stream escape, and just as gently let his cigarette slide back into the ashtray. "It's time to go."

  "You bore me. I don't want to meet Richard."

  "You, boy, better meet him."

  "Some pig-ass friend, some idiotic, time-consuming babbler."

  "Can such insolence go on without God intervening?"

  "So, ladies and gentlemen, these important questions face us today on Inside Out. Stay tuned—David Susskind will return in a moment."

  "It really is time to go."

  "Ah, life, passing so…"

  3

  Winding their way up one of the hills away from Broadway, Alec and Raul had taken the long route to their school. This way they would get to the rear of the school buildings. If they had taken the short route, Raul could have been seen from either Stevens or Porshe Hall. They ran across the street from the Business Office to the back courtyard of the theater. The courtyard's walls were cement; the floor was cement, and the theater building was cement. Dampness lay like a malignant disease there, overwhelming the nostrils and depressing the spirit. Alec asked Raul to wait while he went to the gym to get Richard.

  Raul, huddled in a corner of the cement walls, decided he should have a cigarette. No one, he thought, comes here until lunchtime, which was two hours away. Then again, the faculty parking lot overlooked . the courtyard and it was possible someone might come. The tension mounted. He had decided nothing, but he took out his pack of cigarettes.

  It had been sunny in the morning, though gray, but now the gray obscured the sun. It had just begun drizzling slightly. Raul watched the rain drop on the pack of cigarettes. The cellophane covering steamed up, and Raul smiled, muttered, "Coward," and put them away.

  From the tennis courts at the other end of the football field, Alec and Richard were coming. Raul, whose glasses were too spotted by rain to see clearly, thought Richard was wearing a suit. He wiped his glasses, but they were too far away. As they came closer, Raul saw that Richard was wearing a brown, striped Edwardian suit updated by bellbottoms. He had spare sideburns, ending on pudgy cheeks; his thighs stretched his pants to the seams; and he wore wire-rimmed glasses. His face was round and flat; his nose thick and close to it. He not only had braces on his teeth, but the front two were covered by shiny, tough metal.

  Altogether, Raul thought, a true Riverdalian.

  "Raul, Richard. Richard, Raul. You saw him in Aria da Capo."

  "Hi," Richard said, a little unsure. Raul nodded solemnly. "This way," Richard sai
d and led them up to the street. His car was a white Buick Electra with the convertible top up. Alec opened the bucket seat to let Raul in; the interior was upholstered in black leather, which pleased Raul.

  The car lurched as it started, and Raul pulled himself up to whisper in Alec's ear, "The prince in his deceptive carriage: white to the world, black to his soul."

  Alec smiled. Richard, puzzled, asked what Raul had said.

  "Oh," Alec said, "just a mad piece of imagery. He's incredible like that."

  Richard nodded unconvincingly. He had never been able to make contact with Alec's acting; cowboys and Indians at eight had become too complex for him at eighteen. He was embarrassed and disappointed by Alec's enthusiasm for Raul. He had a headache; his life was collapsing. Nothing was going right. He had wanted to talk to Alec about it, but now, how could he? He had asked Alec, coming from the gym, if he wanted to go with him downtown to buy a book he needed. What was it Alec said? "If Raul wants to come." Alec, a little embarrassed for Richard, wanted to watch the effect Raul would have on him. But Raul was quiet in the back, watching the trees of Riverdale pass. The rain softened and united the colors. The melancholy was sweet. "You know it's a beautiful day," he said.

  Richard took this for sarcasm, as did Alec. "It's miserable, isn't it?" Richard said.

  "No, I didn't mean that. It's raining, but beautiful. It has a very sorrowful effect. I like it."

  Alec nodded. Richard said, "Each to his own." He saw the blunder immediately. Raul told himself it was no time for hysteria, and Alec tried to blend into his seat.

  They were silent the rest of the way while Richard described what some of the seniors 'were doing. Finally they reached Richard's apartment house. The driveway was in the shape of a semicircle which, at its widest point, was a few feet from the lobby of the building. Richard let Raul and Alec out and then drove off to park the car.

  Raul stretched, yawning. "I'm fuckin' tired, man. Whew!"