Hide Fox, and All After

by Rafael Yglesias

  Alec laughed, putting up his hand to mark the end.

  Raul turned, marking a spot with his finger. "Bells. I hear bells."

  Alec giggled, "You mean music."

  "No," Raul said, drawing the word out contemptuously. "The telephone is ringing."

  Alec looked at the clock. "Oh, God," he said without energy. "I forgot."

  Raul leaned forward with a silly grin. "That the telephone was ringing?"

  Alec hissed abortive giggles. "Joanne's calling me."

  Raul fell silent. Suddenly he burst out with: "Who the fuck's Joanne?"

  Alec laughed, draining himself of all physical movement. He fell back on the bed.

  Raul leaned forward again, naturally continuing the movement to the floor. "Ya know what?"

  Long pause. "What?"

  "The phone stopped ringing."

  Laughing galvanized them. They lay on their backs, cars skimming the gutters below. "Listen," Alec said. "She'll call back. You answer it."

  "What do you mean, I answer it? I'm unwilling."

  "Very simple. Just say I'm at my grandparents'."

  "Hello. Oh yes, Joanne, how are you? Oh. Well, Alec's not here. He's at his grandparents'. Who the fuck am I? Well, it's unimportant really."

  "You are exactly who you are."

  "That's very heavy."

  "No, I don't mean that. Say who you are, who you really are. Say you're staying with me, since you're working on the play, for three weeks."

  Silence. "Hello, this is Raul Sabas, secretary to Mr. Shaw."

  "Exactly."

  "Well. We're secure in this sense: no spontaneity."

  "We don't want to find out we're a part of their order."

  "I want this down on the record, though," Raul said. "I have no faith in England. I don't believe it." '" 'Just a conspiracy of cartographers, you mean?' "

  The phone began ringing loudly. Raul twirled about. "Blatant reality!"

  "Hello." Alec held a match to Raul's cigarette. "This is Raul." He dragged on the cigarette, and smiled. "Raul Sabas." Alec sat on a chair across from Raul, signaling that he would pick up the extension.

  "Who are you?"

  "A good friend of Alec's. I'm working with him on Rosencrantz and Guildenstern."

  "Oh." The voice was distracted, annoyed, suspicious. "Is Alec there?"

  Raul smiled, Alec returning it. "No, he's not. He's staying tonight with his grandparents."

  "You're there alone?"

  "I'm living with him until the production."

  "Oh yeah? Where are his parents?"

  Raul's voice became icy. "They are in Europe." .,

  "Why didn't you answer the phone before?"

  "Is this an interrogation? I'm trying to get my sleep."

  All sweetness left the voice. "You're full of shit. Stop playing games with me. Put Alec on."

  Long pause. Raul sighs. "My dear," he said, the words carefully calm, "I'm afraid I cannot put on someone who is not there."

  "I don't like being used."

  The panther leaps. "Who used you?"

  The voice halts, aware that too much has been let out. "I have a message for Alec."

  "Be brief."

  "Oh, it's very simple. I think you'll remember it. Tell Alec I pity his perverse way of dealing with human beings. Good…"

  "According to Joyce," Raul said, "pity is the emotion which arrests the mind in the presence of whatsoever is grave and constant in human sufferings, and unites it with the human sufferer. That emotion is compassionate, not contemptuous. Good-by."

  The phone bangs on the receiver, Raul rising in fury. "Bitch!"

  "Cunt!"

  "Fool!"

  "She's a nice young kid." Alec looked smugly at Raul.

  Raul deflated. His arms fell noisily to his sides. "Such a lame ending."

  The quick, joyous music made light their limbs, the room brightening with exuberance. They swung and danced about, joints passing easily between them. Hectic, pure joy: they smiled and nodded in appreciation of another's movement, or words, the world swirling to their beat.

  The record stops—a sudden silence. They are at opposite ends of the room as Alec bursts out, "Rosencrantz!"

  "What?" Raul jumps, and the air lifts, a smile with it. Congratulatory laughter—Alec turns, arms out-stretched, triumph dawning in his voice: " 'There! How was that?' "

  " 'Clever!' "

  " 'Natural?'"

  " 'Instinctive.'"

  " 'Got it in your head?' "

  " 'I take my hat off to you.'" They have met in the center, smiles impetuously passing from one to the other. Raul bows, laughing joy caught in his throat.

  Alec inhales proudly, " 'Shake hands.' " They do, the climax perfected.

  Raul goes to the desk, lighting a cigarette. Alec tosses his out the open window, turning to Raul. "Question."

  "Yes?"

  "Their attitudes toward the Player change many times, what is a general interpretation of that?"

  "You mean—what are the different attitudes and why they change?"

  "Yes."

  Line by line they picked the play apart. They discussed the way the production was being blocked, decided they didn't like it, and made up a list of those members of the cast who should be spoken to, dividing it in half. They smoked more, and slept.

  A bright, exuberant sun; a sleepy, peaceful morning. Smoking, drinking their coffee, they were whimsical, calm men. They walked in a spring breeze with clever smiles, quiet, husky voices. They broke apart to begin their day. Alec was off to a seduction, Raul to a class or two, both eventually descending for the rest of the day upon the theater and the cast.

  Alec was too polite; his comments were modified by compliments, his softening of criticism took away its energy. Raul was too severe; he pointed out so clearly the faults and limitations of others that they felt hopeless. They reacted defensively, driving Raul to unreasoning severity, turning him into a prima donna.

  Following an agreement, Raul and Alec met in Miller's office at the end of school. Lighting cigarettes, they looked at one another. Neither was willing to speak.

  Raul smiled, Alec frowned. "We blew it," Raul said finally. Alec nodded. Raul stared at him. "Well, there was nothing we could do, really. I mean it was pretty egotistical of us to decide we'd advise everybody on how they were going to act."

  "Okay. But it still pisses me. This is an important production and it's getting the same apathy the other productions get."

  "Well, since when are people gonna start hustlin' their ass for Sabas and Shaw?"

  Alec looked at Raul severely. "I just wish this theater had a little more energy."

  "Devotion, determination."

  "Exactly."

  They finished their cigarettes, lit others. Then Raul finally spoke. "We have many scenes alone, and they are all very powerful. When another actor comes on the stage, it's like giving lines down an empty well. Nothing meets you. No tension, no force, no energy. Lines are spoken limply, movement becomes stilted. One is suddenly conscious of the fact that it's a high school production. All right, that's the situation. We understand it. We should be on top of it, then."

  "How does that put us on top of it? We have no control over it."

  "We do when we are alone on the stage, which is quite often. We're blocking our own moves, building our own tension."

  "Still, it will be thought of as a high school production."

  "Look, Alec, you'll go out of your mind if you think of the image others project for you." Silence. Alec sighs, unsatisfied. "I don't believe this, Alec, we're losing everything. So don't get depressed. We are playing to an audience, not just to parents."

  The opening came near, and the process of ego-building began. All about the school, signs went up advertising the play. Cast members were off from afternoon classes. Raul and Alec were off full day. They spent their days giving their lines over and over. Sitting, walking, they never stopped. The pace of their life became hectic, as if they were runni
ng toward oblivion.

  As the opening came closer, Alec's organ made greater and greater demands on him. Raul worked a full hour a day as his secretary. Alec had passed the word along that Raul was living with him and handling his calls. Raul kept a yellow sheet of typing paper in the inside pocket of his jacket, a new one each day, of the excuses he was to give, whom to put off, and whom to encourage. After his hour he would come in, voice hoarse, hair messed, exhausted and pale, fall straight to the floor, looking up into Alec's smiling face, and say, "What the fuck are you trying to prove?"

  Alec would laugh. "That's exactly what I'm trying to prove."

  "You're going to be impotent by the time you're thirty."

  Alec looked reflectively at Raul. "You know, medically, it's possible."

  Raul groaned. "You'll have children of exhausted loins."

  " 'Your lines will be cut.' "

  "To dumbshows, etc., yeah, exactly."

  "Oy, bitter, butter, batter, aren't you bitter?"

  "Bitter, nothing. You're lucky I'm not horny."

  "Oy, my God, my God, listen to him!"

  "What is it? You don't consider me any serious competition."

  Alec looked at Raul agape. "Are you serious?"

  "No, my tone's false. But I do want to know whether you consider me any competition or not."

  "I never think about it, because of your principles." Raul smiled broadly. "Okay," he said quietly.

  Meeting people became a greeting, an invitation to a performance. They never ceased playing games, nor could they. They walked the campus, strutted about the stage, with the arrogance of those free from serious emotion.

  Flinging doors open and entering the cafeteria, a group of Raul's classmates, who hadn't seen him for a few weeks, stopped, asking him what he'd been doing. Raul, not stopping, said, "Man, we're livin' hard and fast."

  Alec swung about, looking tough. "You got that, you mothers."

  When they walked, they walked smartly. Entering, they would sit as if expectant of applause, staying with no one for more than a few minutes. They went to the cafeteria not to eat but for money. There was a system to this: certain people were hit for certain amounts, certain people were paid back quickly, with others it was drawn out, and some were never paid. With this money they bought cigarettes, invariably ate out, and bought grass.

  The partnership became legendary. Raul was already notorious, and those who suspected Alec of evil ways were now confirmed in their belief. Sabas and Shaw were inseparable. Most were attracted by their banter, others were frightened of it, and still others were contemptuous. The image they projected became so powerful that its implausible nature was overlooked.

  Alec walked over to where Raul was standing. Their eyes and quiet smiles revealed their consciousness of the eyes upon them. Alec leaned against the wall next to Raul. They didn't look at each other but surveyed the cafeteria as if it were prey. "How much do you have, Raul?"

  "Six."

  "Seven," Alec said, with a small satisfied smile.

  "You won again."

  "Yep. Frank's giving me the grass in an hour or so."

  "I should give you five then."

  "Yep."

  Raul's eyes didn't stray from observing the cafeteria, as he gave five singles to Alec.

  "Thank you."

  Frank and Richard approached them. Frank, nervous, said loudly, "What the fuck you two guys doin'?"

  Raul looked at him coldly.

  Alec smiled challengingly. "Are you ready yet?"

  "Well, if you want to get it now, we can. I thought you had to wait an hour."

  "I come and go. I thought I'd need more time, but I didn't."

  Raul turned to Alec. "Are you going?"

  " 'Why? They have us placed now.' Richard," Alec said, "will you drive us?"

  Frank's house was pure residential, rich Riverdale. They were let into the comfortable living room; two or three other students were there, listening to jazz on the stereo. Raul and Alec stared hostilely at the wall while Frank disappeared into a back room. In a moment he returned. "Do you guys want to smoke now?"

  Alec looked at Raul. Raul dragged on his cigarette and said, "Well, it's not our usual time, but we don't owe anything to anyone."

  Alec slapped Raul on the knee: both of them rose and followed Frank into his room. The others followed. Frank's room was small and uninteresting, but it had good exposure to the sun, which drenched the room. Alec and Raul settled comfortably into chairs, the others sitting on the bed and squatting on the floor. Frank opened his bottom drawer, taking out a small bucket filled with grass. The amount was incredible.

  Raul whistled low and long. "Fields of plenty."

  Frank took out a pipe, filled it. It was lit and passed around, filled again, and then again. Raul leaned back in his chair, fatted by the feast. He snapped his fingers at Alec. "Cigarette."

  Alec took out one for himself and one for Raul. It took them ten minutes to light their cigarettes, to the glee of the others in the room.

  Conversation was a low, quiet murmur; time passed in graceful flight. Richard, Raul, and Alec walked to the car in the hushed afternoon and drove away slowly. Somewhere along the way Richard stopped the car, said something wonderingly, and got out, Raul and Alec following. They swayed back and forth, watching Richard kneel down to inspect one of the tires. A passing breeze blew his jacket open. He stood up and looked at them. "Flat," he said.

  Raul and Alec laughed and laughed, stopped, only to see Richard's face drawn in worry and break out laughing again. Quite naturally they rolled in the gutter, knees drawn up to their bellies, laughing hysterically.

  7

  The commonest activities on the day of the opening carried a new electricity. Raul was possessed by a great calm, shrouded in a mist of contemplation. Only two or three hours before curtain time did hysteria become his natural state.

  Alec was off getting in as much fucking as possible before the performance; his lust was desperate today, Raul had never seen him so frantic for it. Raul lingered among the costumes and in the theater, living with the dusty ghosts that would be alive in the evening.

  Alec's parents had returned from Europe, so the two ate out for privacy. They spoke of their feelings as they wound their way to the theater, their words and voices surrounded by an aura of tenderness but marked with cynicism as they entered the theater.

  "It's like having your virginity ripped away from you," Raul said, opening the door.

  Alec smiled. "How would you know?"

  They were there two hours ahead of time so the theater, except for Miller and the stage crew, was empty. They waved to Miller, who was busy with last-minute checking, and went on up to the dressing room. They dressed slowly and began to make up, languishing in the slow transformation. The stage manager came by, warning them not to make up so early since it would be easily smeared, but he drew neither a response nor their attention.

  They heard the gradual awakening of the theater as the cast began to arrive. Most stayed in the auditorium, chatting with girl friends, but some came up to begin dressing. Raul and Alec said hello to no one, giving a nod at most, their faces grim.

  Nearly all the cast was in the dressing room as Alec and Raul finished. Their loud chatter and noisy preparations upset Alec's and Raul's concentration. They were dressed in black. Alec put a boot up on a chair, resting an elbow on the elevated leg. They surveyed the hot, busy room. Raul inclined his head toward Alec: " 'It's like living in a public park.' "

  Because of their cold looks and silent manner, everyone had decided not to approach them. Raul placed his cape on his shoulders, offering Alec his.

  "No, I think not. Would you care for a cigarette?"

  "Yes, very much."

  Their step was sharp, Raul's cape swayed importantly as the cast cleared a path for them. They entered Miller's office, which was filled with people. Raul and Alec ignored them, though some were faculty. Alec asked, "Is our makeup okay?"

  Miller studied
them. He nodded. "Very good." The faculty who were there wished them luck, students slapped them on the back.

  They escaped quickly, going down the steps, onto the stage, through the curtain, and into the auditorium. The girls and students there showed their admiration. The surge of ego. A student usher called to them, "Hey, you're not supposed to be in the auditorium."

  Raul laughed loudly. "Did you hear that, Alec? He depresses me by calling it an auditorium and then asks me to leave." Those in the audience laughed.

  Alec smiled wryly. "Rubin," he called soothingly, "you let us know when the theater's being opened up and we'll leave."

  Raul laughed. "Alec, um, we should leave anyway, should we not?"

  "Ah, quite true."

  They swung about, exiting with much force. They smoked silently in a hidden corner of the theater. They had never felt so close as now, so at one with each other that a glance expressed a thought more clearly than language could.

  "You know," Raul said, "I think we use that severity with others to hide the feelings we have for each other. In some ways. I know it has a more important function for us, but no one would guess from our manner how close we are."

  Alec nodded thoughtfully. "I was just thinking," he said quietly, "how our relationship is like the platonic relationships between boys in ancient Greece."

  Raul laughed idly. "If it wasn't for your promiscuity, we'd be accused of homosexuality all the time."

  Alec put his cigarette out. "Did you know that for a while I was afraid you were homosexual?"

  "So was I."

  Alec laughed.

  "Once," Raul said.

  "No, you're just asexual. I don't see how you stand it, though."

  "Are you convincing yourself, or what?"

  Alec laughed and beckoned Raul to follow him as he rose to leave.

  "I am not," Raul said, "averse to masturbation."

  They entered the backstage of the theater. Davis passed by in a rage, yelling, "That idiot Bobby ruined my costume."

  "As others," Raul said, rounding on Alec, "are not averse to emotional masturbation."

  Judy, who played Ophelia, came into their range of vision. She glared at Alec. Alec began to move toward her, saying absently to Raul, "Don't run the thought into the ground."