The taxi stopped in front of the brownstone. Mark paid the bill, took his suitcase, and got out. Then he lugged his bag up the stairs and opened the door to his apartment.
“Welcome home!” John was in the kitchen mixing something in a large ceramic bowl. “You never even called me,” John said in an irritated sarcastic voice. “I tried calling the hotel late last night. They rang your room but you didn’t answer. I suppose the wedding went on past three in the morning?”
“I was in the room. I just didn’t feel like talking.”
“You didn’t answer my call?” John asked.
“That’s right.”
“What the hell is eating you?”
“I told my father. He disowned me. He is right now as we speak sitting Shiva for me.” Mark slumped into the large La-Z-Boy.
“Shiva?”
“Yeah. It’s something Jews do when somebody dies.”
“You didn’t die.”
“I did, as far as he’s concerned. He didn’t take it well at all.”
John walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa. “Lots of parents react like this when you first come out. Then after they have a chance to think it over, they ease up and accept it.”
“Maybe your parents, John. Not mine,” Mark said getting up and pouring himself a drink. “You were so damn insistent that I tell them. I don’t know why. I’ll never understand why.”
“Because, Mark, our love is nothing to be ashamed of. For God’s sake, it’s not a sin to love another person.”
“Go to hell, John.” Mark downed the entire drink. “I’m going out,” he said and left.
CHAPTER TEN
Mark didn’t care for airplane food so he hadn’t touched his dinner on the plane. Now, as he was walking, he realized he hadn’t eaten all day. His stomach was growling. He went a little farther down the street to a small café where he and John usually went together. It was an eclectic place. But as soon as he entered, the maitre d’ asked about John. “Will John be joining you?” he asked.
“Not tonight,” Mark stammered. He didn’t feel like talking. As soon as he was seated, the waitress came over and asked about John.
“Where’s John?” she said in a cheery voice that annoyed the hell out of Mark.
“He’s working tonight.”
“Do you know what you’d like?”
“No, I need a minute.”
“Sure, go ahead and look over the menu. I’ll be right back.”
Mark left the menu on the table and walked out.
He walked a block to the underground subway station, hopped a train, and went into an unfamiliar part of town. By now it was after six and he was really hungry. The last meal he’d eaten was before the wedding. He walked until he found a restaurant specializing in crepes. At least nobody knows me here. I can eat in peace. The last thing I want to talk about tonight is John. A nice glass of wine, a good meal. This is what I need right now.
The waiter walked over to Mark’s table. He was at least six feet tall, blond, and strikingly handsome. He reminded Mark of Troy Donahue, an actor Mark had always thought was heartbreakingly gorgeous when he saw him on screen.
“Would you care for something to drink?”
“Wine, merlot.”
“Of course. I’m Paul. Take a few minutes to look over the menu and I’ll be right back with your wine to take your order.”
Paul returned and Mark ordered a chicken crepe with mushrooms and asparagus in a white wine sauce and a green salad. This dinner is expensive. But right now, I don’t care. I am so upset with John and my father . . .
“Can I get you anything else?” It was Paul, the Troy Donahue look-alike.
Yes, you can take me home and we can have sex. That should serve John right, Mark thought. But he said, “No, thank you.”
Mark ate slowly. Inside, he was burning up with anger. He hated his father and was furious with John. He wished that Abby were around. The last time he tried to call her the number she’d given him was disconnected. He knew she would surface again soon, but he needed to talk to her tonight and he had no way to reach her.
After Mark finished eating, he paid the check and said goodbye to Paul and the fantasy of spending a night with a movie star. He went outside and began to walk. He didn’t want to go home. He knew if he did, he and John would end up having a big fight. So when he passed a familiar gay bar he went inside. I’ll have one drink to loosen me up before I go home.
Mark sat down at the bar. The bartender smiled at him. “What’ll you have, Handsome?”
“A black Russian,” Mark said.
“Right away.”
Hell, I could always live the lie, get married. Have a couple of kids. I dated girls when I was young. I’ve even had sex with a few. It wasn’t the greatest sex, but I did it. I am capable; I could make a baby or two. Cheat on the side. Sit in movie theaters and watch gay porn flicks until some guy sat down next to me and put his hands on me. Who the hell am I kidding? I could never do that. I couldn’t do it to myself and it wouldn’t be fair to put some poor unsuspecting girl through that. I felt terrible when I dated girls and they fell for me. Like Judy Marsh in high school or later in college, Margie Green. They were both lovely people and I felt like a traitor. Neither of them deserved what I did to them. They liked me; we were good friends. They fell in love and I was secretly longing for a male lover. It was not fair. No, I am not going to get married to satisfy my father’s need for a grandchild. He’ll just have to get over his expectations of me. And if we never speak again, then so be it. I can’t do it. I won’t do it.
Across the room, Mark’s friends Gabe and Joe were waving him over, trying to get his attention. He didn’t feel like talking. He felt like sulking and getting drunk. Nevertheless, Mark took his drink, left a generous tip for the bartender, and walked over to their table.
“Joey, Gabe. Good to see you,” Mark lied. He would rather have spent the evening alone.
“Sit down. Join us. Where’s John?” Gabe asked.
“At home,” Mark said.
Always where’s John? Everyone asks “Where’s John?”
“I don’t like that tone of voice. Something wrong in paradise?” Joey asked.
“We’re having a little fight. It’s nothing, really,” Mark muttered.
“Everyone fights. I’m sure it will be fine,” Gabe said.
“Wanna talk about it?” Joe asked.
“It’s nothing, really, nothing.”
“If it was really nothing you wouldn’t be out drinking alone,” Joe said.
“That’s true,” Mark said. “Maybe it would do me good to talk about it.” He began to tell his friends about how John insisted that he come out and tell his parents he was gay at his sister’s wedding. He told them how his father responded. During the course of the next two hours, Mark got so inebriated that he was laughing and dancing with strangers. He was no longer feeling any anger or pain.
At midnight, Gabe and Joe wanted to leave. “We both have to be at work in the morning. I’m going to put you in a cab and send you home,” Joe said.
“I can take care of myself. Do I look like a child?” Mark answered.
“No, but you do look a little drunk. I want to be sure you get home safely. I insist.”
But Mark shrugged his friends off. “I’m staying. Leave if you want to.”
“Really, Mark. I think you should get going. You’ve had enough to drink,” Gabe said, touching Mark’s shoulder.
“Goodnight,” Mark said. “I’ll go home when I am ready to go home. I’ll give you guys a call during the week.”
Gabe looked at Joe and shrugged his shoulders. “He’ll be all right,” Joe said. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When Mark woke up late the following afternoon, naked in bed in a strange apartment in Queens, he couldn’t remember how he got there. He wouldn’t even have known he was in Queens except when he got out of bed he saw a piece of mail addressed to a fellow named Gene T.
White.
Who the hell is that?
Mark’s head ached so badly he could barely hold it up straight. What did I do last night? If his bladder wasn’t exploding with urine, he would have fallen back into the comfort of this strange bed and laid there until he could gather his thoughts. But he needed to find a toilet as soon as possible. He picked his briefs up off the floor and put them on. It was lucky for him that the bathroom was right across the hall from the bedroom. He went in and relieved himself. Noise came from somewhere in the apartment. Mark followed them to a living room where a very attractive man with black hair and ice-blue eyes was looking at magazines.
“Gene?” Mark said.
“Good morning, Mark.”
“Did we?” Mark asked.
“Of course. Why else would you wake up naked in my bed? Now that was the foolish question of the week,” Gene said.
“Oh shit! What the hell did I do? Gene, I am involved with someone. Seriously involved. I don’t do this sort of thing.”
“Oh, I know. I heard the whole story last night, Mark Levi. All about your Jewish guilt; the whole story. Why don’t you have a cup of coffee and sit down? You don’t have to worry. Your lover, John, need never know. Your secret is safe with me.”
“I told you my lover’s name?”
“My God, Mark. I could hardly get you to shut up. Like I said, relax. You don’t have enough money for me to blackmail you. You’re as poor as an urchin in need of the Salvation Army. All show, no go, if you know what I mean. So don’t fret. Last night was fun. We can just chalk it up to a good time, like two guys going out for a drink or having a tennis match. It really didn’t mean much to either of us. Right?”
“Oh boy, I am feeling so weird. Not good at all,” Mark said under his breath
“Sooooo dramatic. Forget it ever happened.” Gene smiled. “Just relax and go home to your boyfriend. You love him and you know it.”
“Yes, I do. I am pissed as hell at him. But I do love him.”
“I think it’s really kind of sweet. I’ve always wished someone would love me that way,” Gene said. “But, I have to say, I just can’t stay with one person for too long. I get bored.” Gene smiled. Mark had to admit he was very handsome but, inside, Mark wanted to cry. He’d broken an important trust that he shared with John.
Even if John never finds out, will this forever be an unspoken wedge between us? Have I spoiled something wonderful? Jewish guilt? This Gene guy is right. I do have Jewish guilt. I was raised to treat people the way I want to be treated. That was my dad’s way. Damn you, Dad. Damn you for making me a good person who cares too much. And damn you for not being able to accept me as I am. Even you have your faults and your inability to love me as a gay son is your biggest one.
“There’s some coffee left in the pot in the kitchen. I’m out of cream, but I do have some of that powdered shit if you want. And there’s some sugar in the cabinet over the sink. Go and get a cup. It will help you with your hangover. Then take a shower and get the hell out of here, Mark Levi. Go home. Go home to the man you love. The man you talked about all night even during our little rendezvous. Go home to John. I hate to admit it, but he just might be the luckiest guy in New York.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Mark was ashamed of himself. He’d done something he swore he would never do—cheat on John. What made their relationship so special was the honesty they shared. From the very beginning, they had vowed never to lie to each other. He was angry with John for making him open up to his family. If it were up to Mark, he would have kept his homosexuality a secret until both of his parents were dead. Abby already knew. And, although Haley would have been a little shocked, she would have been a lot easier to deal with than his father. Growing up with his dad, he knew that Dovid would have a hard time accepting this. His father had great qualities. He was kind and generous. He fought for the underdog, always. He hated prejudice and accepted people of all religions and races. But this? Homosexuality? His own son? NO! His father could not accept this. Why? Mark didn’t know. The only thing he could ascertain was that growing up in Russia during the war, homosexuality was seen as a perversion. He saw the look on his dad’s face when he told him. It was a look of disgust. But, even more, it was a look of disappointment.
Who am I fooling? The world still looks at John and me as outcasts. We can’t get legally married. And as much as I wish it weren’t true, I know that there are still assholes out there who would rather beat the hell out of us than try to understand that we are not really different than them. The only difference is that we are attracted to members of the same sex. We still have all the same feelings. We still cry, we still hurt, we still bleed.
Mark got on the subway. He got a seat, but at the next stop, a large group of people entered his car. An old woman, carrying a brown bag, was standing. She was holding on to a metal post trying not to fall as the train chugged along the track. Without thinking, Mark stood up and offered her his seat. She gratefully accepted.
Dad was big on manners, Mom too, he thought, wishing he could call home and make things right with them. But it didn’t feel right to call. At least, not today.
The apartment Mark and John shared was a quick walk from the subway station and before Mark had any idea of what he was going to say, he was opening the door to his home. John immediately came out of the bedroom.
“Oh my God. Where were you? I was worried sick. I was about to call the police,” John said.
“I’m sorry. I was mad. I stayed out all night.”
‘I’m sorry too. Maybe I was wrong in trying to force you to tell your parents. I just wanted us to be . . . normal.”
“I know,” Mark said plopping down on the sofa.
“I love you. I don’t want to lose you over this,” John said.
Mark swallowed hard. “I love you too.” Tears welled up in his eyes.
“I’m glad you’re home safe. You don’t know what I was thinking. My mind was going at a thousand miles an hour. I was afraid you’d been attacked by gay bashers or someone or something had hurt you.” Now John was crying.
Mark reached for him and they embraced.
“Do you forgive me?” John asked.
Mark nodded and held John close to him. He wanted to tell him what he’d done. He longed to ask for forgiveness, but he couldn’t. Mark was afraid if he told John that he cheated on him, John would leave him. So instead, Mark just held John in his arms.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
September 1991
The phone rang. John picked it up.
“Abby?” he said then turned to Mark who was sitting at a desk in the living room facing the window. He’d been working.
“It’s your sister.”
Mark reached for the phone. “Ab, how are you? Where are you? I haven’t heard from you since before the wedding.”
“I know. I know. I was in London. Now I’m in Tennessee but it’s a long story.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes. As right as rain.” She laughed a bitter laugh.
“What’s wrong, Ab?”
“Everything and nothing, I guess.”
“Talk to me. Come on . . .”
“The guy I was living with in London dumped me. He kicked me out.”
“Are you working? Do you need money?”
“No. I’m okay. I’ve been waiting tables at a diner. I moved in with another guy I met. He’s kind of a jerk. I haven’t decided if I like him or not. We’ll see,” she said then she continued. “Anyway, I’m coming to New York for a weekend next month. Any chance we can have dinner?”
“Yes, of course, but how are you getting here? Do you have plane fare?”
“I’m riding with someone. Coming by car.”
“Jeez, that will take forever.”
“Yeah, I know. But I have to do it. So how about dinner? Can we meet?”
“Dinner? Just dinner? I wouldn’t hear of it. You’re going to stay here with John and me for the whole weekend.”
/> “I can’t. I’m meeting someone and then I have to leave and go right back to Tennessee. Long story. I’ll tell you about it when I see you.”
“Dinner it is, I guess. Just let me know when. You can come here. John would love to see you too. John and I love to cook so we’ll make something really special or if you prefer we can go out. Whatever you want. Okay?”
“I’d love to see John again.”
“I’ll tell him. We’ll both be looking forward to it!”
“Good,” she said. Then in a small voice, she asked, “How was the wedding? I’ll bet Little Miss Perfect looked beautiful.”
“Haley looked very beautiful, Abby. And she was disappointed that you didn’t come.”
“The assholes were probably pissed too.”
“You mean our parents?’
“What other assholes do you know?”
“Plenty. But yes. They were upset that you didn’t come.”
“I couldn’t, Mark. I just couldn’t bring myself to come. Besides, I didn’t have the money.”
“I thought you were living with some rich guy in England.”
“Yeah, he was rich, but he controlled every dime he gave me. He bought me nice stuff, but he would never give me cash. And for sure not a plane ticket home to Chicago.”
“Is that why you didn’t come? You know Dad would have given you the money if you asked him.”
“Only partially, Mark. I really didn’t come because it hurts too much to see Mom and Haley together. I’ve always felt like an outsider.”
“Oh, Abby. Do me a favor. If you need anything, anything at all, call me. Okay?”
“Yeah. Sure, Mark.”
“I mean it, Ab.”
“Like all of a sudden you’re rich?”
“I’m not rich. But I’m your brother and I’ll help you in any way I can.”
“By the way . . . how’s the show coming?” she asked.
“It closed, sadly. But I do have interesting news. John and I are collaborating on a new project. It’s a musical. A story about a little girl in ancient China. She knows she is about to have her feet bound and she is terrified. So, one night she steals away on a ship where she meets a dog that belongs to the ship’s captain. The cool thing is this dog can talk. But only this little girl can hear him. Remember when we were kids and you said you could hear Buddy talk? You said she talked to you, not so much in words but in her expressions. Well, one night John and I were hanging around the apartment, just chatting, and I remembered what you told me about Buddy. That was how this whole creation was born. So you and Buddy were the inspiration for our new musical.”
Another Generation Page 4
