Peter had shifted so that their arms were touching. He exerted a slight pressure now. “You’re right about Tim. I’ve already thought about it. That’s what’s so bad. I don’t see how I could ever forgive myself if I left him.”
“Well, if I clear out, we’ll have three miserable people, if that makes you feel any better. And it’ll all be my fault. I know that. But Jesus, baby, I’m ready now to give my whole life to you. Everything. At least with Hattie I found out what it means to really live with somebody. That’s the way I want it to be with us—like you said, as if we were married. I’d give my soul for the chance to make you happy for a change. You. Goddamn it.”
“Could I call you darling whenever I wanted?” Peter asked with a giggle.
“Oh, God.” He opened his mouth and took a deep breath and shook his head. “You’re so wonderful. Even now, when I feel as if I’d die if I don’t make love to you, and can’t, when you’re making me see what a shit I’ve been, it doesn’t matter. I’m with you. I’ve always fought everything. There’s no fight left in me now. You decide, baby.” He lifted his knees and put his arms around them and rested his head on them. “Please take me.” He had penetrated at last to the core of himself. Awareness had been slowly filling him. Last night, even when he had been paralyzed by fear, he had taken Peter for granted. Since then, layers of the fabrication on which he had built his personality had been stripped away until he had reached this ultimate exposure. Pride, assurance, self-sufficiency—all were gone. He was this little thing crying for acceptance. He was ready to build afresh from there. He felt Peter shifting around beside him so that he was sitting once more with his legs dangling over the side, but close against him, offering him the comfort of his body.
“I’ve been praying you could make it right,” Peter said slowly. He knew that there was a great deal that wasn’t right yet but he knew, too, that he was powerless to resist Charlie’s appeal. This was the moment he had longed for and dreaded. It was done. There could be no going back. It was a time for fireworks and rocketing emotions, yet he felt primarily a quiet sense of something known and expected and needed. Tim had fallen away into the past. There was nothing anybody could do about it. The rugged farmboy face filled his mind’s vision as he said good-bye. He went on, “I couldn’t see how there could be any hope for us. I hoped just the same. I think I see now. It’s not going to be easy. The only thing that’ll keep me from feeling guilty for the rest of my life is if we make it really right.”
“Oh, my darling baby.” Their arms were around each other. They hugged each other to their sides.
“Come on, darling,” Peter said. “We really will frighten the horses. We’ve got an awful lot to decide still. We’d better get back where there’re telephones.”
They rose and straightened their clothes and went to the car. As if by mutual agreement, Peter took the wheel. He drove until he found a place to turn. On their way back, when they reached the bridge again, he slowed.
“I’ll always remember this bridge. Golly, do you suppose it’s symbolic or something? Well, let’s cross it.” He took Charlie’s hand and speeded up, and they headed back toward town. “I suppose we should’ve burned it behind us. Listen. We’ve got to find Hattie. I’ll call our place and if there’s no answer, we’ll call the producer of that play. At least, we’ll know if she’s working.”
“If you can spare the money, I’d like to call C. B., too. If Hattie goes to her, God knows what she’ll say. I’ve got to prepare her.”
Peter braked and pulled over to the side of the road. He should have known it; he was behaving like the love-sick kid he had warned himself against. He should have known that happy endings don’t happen all that easily. Would Charlie ever understand what together meant in the way he thought of it? “That’s another thing,” he said, risking his whole hand on one play. “C. B. Are you ready to tell her we’re together, that we’re a pair?”
“But baby, I can’t do—”
“Then I don’t want you to see her again. I’ve done things in the last few months that lots of people would think are pretty disgusting, but I haven’t wanted to murder anybody. And that’s because I’ve found out things. I’ve found out that I can’t fake with anything that’s so important to me. I won’t insist on holding hands with you in restaurants, but that’s about it. I love my mother, but if she wants to have anything to do with me, she’s going to have to accept you as the man I live with. That goes for everybody.”
“But C. B. is different. She’s—”
“Oh, no, she isn’t. She’ll know we’re living together. That’s not going to be a secret from anybody. If you can’t tell her, she’s out. Or else the whole thing is off.”
Charlie knew that he couldn’t possibly tell C. B., but he also knew that Peter was right. He felt as if he were cutting into some vital part of himself as he spoke. “All right. I’ll tell her,” he said.
Peter started up the car again, and they returned to the hotel. They went to Charlie’s room and put in some calls. The apartment didn’t answer. At the producer’s office, they learned that Hattie was no longer associated with the production of Bumblebee.
“We can’t have this hanging over us,” Peter said. “After lunch, I’ll have to go back to the city and see what I can find out.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No, darling. That long drive wouldn’t be good for you. I want your cock to heal.”
“Oh, God, so do I. I can’t stand it much longer. I want your cock. It’s not just sex. I’ve got to know we belong to each other again. I could have you—you know—in my mouth.”
“But you can’t. It’ll make you—”
“Oh, baby. I start to get a hard-on every time I look at you, but it hurts so much it goes away. It’s been like that ever since last night when I was still bleeding and I thought I was about to be hauled off by the police.”
Peter knelt between Charlie’s knees and kissed him. “Please don’t want it until we can have it all together. It’s never been the same with anybody else. I don’t want just part of it. It would drive me crazy for us not to be really together.”
“I know. You’re right. I just wanted to blot everything else out. Everything I’ve done, everything you’ve done. We’re back where we belong now. I know it, but it’s such hell not to be able to do anything about it.” There was so much he wanted to give some firm expression to. Yesterday he had had a wife, a budding career, a life. Today it was all gone. After he had talked to her about Peter, C. B. would probably be gone too, although he was already trying to hit on a way to deal with her so that a break could be avoided. Peter was all he could be sure of and yet his life felt fuller and richer than it ever had before. It should be frightening; this beloved creature kneeling before him was all that tied him to life, but he wasn’t really frightened. Peter had accepted him. He didn’t have to pretend any more. He could look into Peter’s wide, accepting eyes and wonder what Peter saw reflected in his and shape himself as he found the answers. That was what life was going to be: a shaping of himself in the mirror of Peter’s eyes. He was astonished at his acknowledgment of his homosexuality and still not totally convinced of it; to the extent that it was true, it applied only to Peter. Whatever problems they faced, infidelity would not be one of them. There was only one body in the world he wanted; the fact that it was male seemed unimportant. It was Peter, which made it right.
Already he felt himself growing into himself, into a self he had only occasionally glimpsed through Peter, into a self that could exist only in Peter. Pleasure was an inadequate word for the way he wanted Peter in his mouth and the flow of his body’s essence into him; it was a rite, a manifestation of his dependence, a demonstration of his need to honor and cherish him.
Peter ran his fingers over Charlie’s face and held it briefly between his hands and stood up. “Lunch. Let’s have it up here, shall we?”
“Sure. Aren’t you being awfully free with your money?”
“Well, th
at’s another thing. I’ve got quite a lot of it. Fifty-six thousand, five hundred, and some odd dollars. I’ve made a bit in the last couple of weeks.”
Charlie threw his head back and laughed. “Made a bit? What in God’s name are you talking about?”
“Well, I only started with fifty. It’s going to be a bit difficult to explain. We’d better order.”
They did so, and Peter told him about Walter while they waited. “That’s going to be another big blowup, of course,” he ended. “I feel like hell about that, too. He’s such a sweet guy. I’d better get through it all this afternoon. I won’t have time to pack up the apartment. I seem to’ve accumulated an awful lot of junk in the past couple of months. Well, junk maybe isn’t the right word. As you see, my life hasn’t been exactly simple. Maybe if the coast is clear, we can go in tomorrow and do it together.”
Lunch was rolled in on a table, and they sat and ate and built the future.
“I’ve been thinking,” Peter said. “I told you I want to go back to school in the fall. Not necessarily for a degree. I know the courses I want to take. What about your painting? If the theater’s out, wouldn’t you like to really get to work on that?”
“It’s the thing I’d like most,” Charlie said, realizing suddenly that with Peter, work could become a vocation. “But there’s no point in being a Sunday painter. I’ve got to find a job.”
“Now listen, you’ve thought like that for too long. C. B. again. Isn’t painting a job?”
“Well, sure, a hell of a tough one. But what am I supposed to live on?”
“We’ve got the money, for God’s sake. The income isn’t much, but we can get by. Until we both get started, it won’t do any harm to take a little capital when we need it.”
“Are you sure it’s all right for you to keep me?”
“No, I couldn’t keep you. Any more than you’d keep me. We’re each other. Anything we have is ours. That’s the way it’s going to be. If you don’t feel that way, the hell with it.”
“Golly, to borrow an expression. You’re quite a guy, aren’t you?” His mind was saying Peter, Peter, Peter, wonder and delight growing with every repetition.
“Whatever I am, I’m it with you,” Peter said. “I’m just beginning to feel it. Holy cow, this is exciting. I’m in love. Big news. I’m with the guy I love. At last. I’m going to live again with the guy I’ve always loved.” He jumped up and circled the table and put his arms around Charlie from behind and nuzzled his ear. “Oh, God, darling. This was worth waiting for. We’ll make it now, won’t we?”
“You’re damn right, darling. Darling baby. Don’t make me cry into these chops.”
“No more crying. We’ve done more than our share of that. We really are silly faggots—bursting into tears every few seconds.” He went back and sat down. “Where were we? Oh, yes. Should you go to school or something, or do you just paint?”
“There’re people in the city I’d like to study under, but first I’d like to get back to it on my own.”
“Well, how about this? What if we find some place out around here, really in the country, and rent it for the summer? Just us, and you could start painting again and we’d fuck a lot and all that sort of thing. Then we could get down to business in the fall. How would that be?”
“That would be just about heaven, baby.”
“All right. That’s settled. Now I really ought to get the hell into the city. Swallow whatever you’re chewing. I’m going to give you the biggest, wettest kiss you’ve ever had in your life, and then I’ll go.” He rose and went to Charlie and squatted beside him. They kissed at length. He dropped his head back, and they looked at each other.
“I don’t want you to go without me,” Charlie said. “Actually, it doesn’t make sense. I can’t just call C. B. I’m going to have to see her. If possible, I want her on my side if Hattie decides to blow the works. I’ve got to go with you.”
Peter rose, looking thoughtful. “I don’t quite see how we should work it. Hattie. I’ll start at the apartment, if it’s not surrounded by the police. I might even have to call her parents. The thing is, C. B. may already know things I ought to know. Yes, you’d better call her now and see what happens.”
“OK.” Charlie rose from the table and placed the call and waited tensely. The plans Peter was elaborating with such confidence would make it even more difficult to deal with her. The two of them living conspicuously in the country. His painting. Living on Peter’s money. He braced himself to face some hint from C. B. of a scandal brewing with Hattie. First things first.
He got one of the maids who told him placidly that C. B. was expected back after lunch. Nothing in her manner suggested crisis. He left word that he would stop by in an hour or two. He hung up and turned to Peter. “It sounds all quiet there.”
“Good. Now the problem is how we’re going to keep in touch. I may find out things you ought to know immediately, especially if the police are in it. I don’t particularly want to call you at C. B.’s. You have my number. I’ll try to do everything from there. If I absolutely have to, I’ll call you. Otherwise, I’ll wait for you to finish with her.” He approached Charlie and stood in front of him and looked him gravely in the eye. “Now listen. I don’t care what you tell her so long as you don’t cheat on how I figure in what you’re going to do. I mean this. I’m all yours and I’m totally in love with you and always will be, but she can still kill it if you let her. She’s going to try.”
“She can’t succeed. I worship you. I mean that literally. Down on my knees.”
Peter touched his arm. His eyes lingered in Charlie’s another moment, and then he turned away. “Well, we’d better get going. We’ll have to come back here tonight. I won’t be able to use the apartment after this afternoon.”
They drove into the city, talking in bursts, interspersed with thoughtful silences. Peter drew up in front of C. B.’s building. “If you don’t hear from me,” he said, “don’t worry. It’ll mean everything is all right. Just come to me as soon as you can. If I’m not there, I guess you’ll have to wait.”
Their hands reached out and gripped each other hard for a moment. Then Charlie let himself out, and Peter slipped quickly into gear and drove away.
He parked the car opposite El Morocco. He took a deep breath and crossed the street and rang the bell marked “Mills.” He was tense and keyed up, but he had rehearsed what he would say to Hattie, so he was almost disappointed when there was no response. He wanted to get it over with. After he had rung several times and waited, he put the key in the lock and entered. At the end of the hall, he listened at the door before cautiously opening it. He went in on tiptoe and peered into the living room. Nothing. He edged forward until he could see into the alcove. He exhaled and relaxed and looked around him. The place looked very tidy. He had been prepared for pools of blood, but the bed was made and there was no trace of violence. He looked around the living room. There was a sheet of paper on the desk and even from where he stood he could see that it was addressed in large letters to “YOU SHIT.” He went over and picked it up.
YOU SHIT,
If you dare come back here, you’ll see I’ve had all my things taken away. You better make sure I never see you again. I was going to turn you over to the police, but my family swore they’d never have anything more to do with me. As if I care, except I happen to need them. You’ll be delighted to hear that I have to spend the next few weeks in the hospital having my face fixed up. Don’t you feel manly? You shitty faggot. I’d be happy to go around for the rest of my life looking like Frankenstein if I could see you locked up where you belong, but I’ve got to think of my career. Thanks for fixing it so I had to quit the play. I hope I’ve fixed you for life. Maybe you bled to death. It’s too much to hope for. Just watch out.
There was no signature. Peter folded the sheet and put it in his pocket. All their planning and worry was for nothing. It was wonderful, they had only themselves to consider now, but it rather took the wind out of his sa
ils. He had seen himself rushing about, perhaps dodging the police, conferring with lawyers. It had turned out to be what he had hoped it was last night—an ugly ending to a situation that could have been tragic. He was left with nothing of any real importance to do except to wait for Charlie to extricate himself from C. B. He had tried not to let his thoughts dwell on the interview, but he was far from tranquil about its outcome. He knew C. B. as an adversary, and he knew that this was an occasion for her to draw on all her reserves of coercion. Charlie had seemed awfully sure of himself this morning, but he knew the hold she had on him and understood it. He wished he hadn’t had to challenge it.
He approached the telephone and looked at it for a long hesitant moment. He was playing for his life now. He picked it up and dialed C. B.’s number.
When it was answered by a familiar Negro voice, he hardened his accent and asked for Mr. Mills. In a moment, Charlie was on the line.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, darling,” he said. “It’s all right. I was thinking of how worried you must be and I couldn’t see why you shouldn’t know—it’s all right.”
The Peter & Charlie Trilogy Page 29
