He stood for a stunned moment and then forced his feet up the remaining steps and sank into one of the rickety straight-backed chairs.
Now what? Somewhere in the wreckage of the monument to self-love he now seemed to inhabit, the mind went on searching relentlessly. Perhaps they could save their deep, loving friendship by attempting to achieve the Socratic ideal. Sexless love. Physical satisfaction in casual encounters, the Jeannots, the Dimitris, the Tonys. It would probably kill him if Peter took happily to such a life, but he would kill them both if he didn’t curb the demon that was in him. He had known that much in Crete. He had learned it could drive him to murder.
How did you conquer jealousy? It was lodged in the ego, perhaps in his goddamn cock. Was it simply that he couldn’t bear anything to challenge its supremacy?
He wasn’t prepared to put himself through intensive psychoanalysis. He had to come to grips with an immediate problem: now that infidelity was an issue between them and could become increasingly so, how could he love Peter, how could he live with him without destroying them? He had found the source of his despair. Could he transform himself, or was there more about himself he had yet to learn?
His waking hours lost whatever shape they had had, given significance only by the hoot of a boat in the harbor, sometimes during the day, sometimes at night. The days when there was none simply dropped out of time. Because he had refused to learn their schedule, he was in a state of constant alert and expectation while he continued to search within himself for a clue to the future. Everywhere he looked in the past he was confronted with self-love.
His altered attitude toward the public acknowledgment of their relationship might help, but it carried with it the danger of greater exposure to all the things he feared. The party at Capri, the evening at Poros had been a defiance of all his instincts.
Renounce the physical in their lives. His mind kept coming back to it. They had so much together that went beyond sex. He thought he could train himself to bear the thought of Peter with others if it were no longer a question of infidelity but an understanding they had reached together. With time, the hunger of his own body must ease.
He had progressed no closer than that to a resolution of the conflicts that seemed to be threatening his sanity when he realized that he had been there a week. Panic immediately paralyzed thought. Had he pushed tolerance too far? Had Peter finally rebelled and left him to his fate? Even worse was the possibility that something had happened to him. He was sure that Peter could handle Cassandra and he had confidence in the boat, but there were always dangers at sea. How could he find out if he was safe? Even if they weren’t together, he couldn’t live in a world without Peter in it somewhere. He wanted to rush down and find out when there was a boat for Piraeus. Frantically, he counted the days once more. Something might have delayed the departure from Crete. Peter’s mention of four days had been whistling in the dark. Five or six days was much more realistic. They might have got in last night. If they had had engine trouble, seven or eight days would be good time. There had been no storms or big winds recently.
Slowly, he calmed himself. No matter how he tried Peter’s patience, he knew he wouldn’t go off without him. He might not come look for him if he were angry, but he would wait for him, at least until they were due to go home. Give it a few more days. Something might yet come clear in his mind. He had promised Peter to make it easy for them. If he had just arrived, or was about to, letting him wait a few days was not too much to ask of him.
He was reading by the light of the kerosene lamp the next night after dinner when a boat hooted in the harbor. As usual, he tried to pay no attention. As usual, he couldn’t resist the urge to go out to the perilous terrace overlooking the port just in case he might catch a glimpse of the golden head. As usual, he went back inside and began to go through the movements in his head that anybody looking for him would have to go through: finding an interpreter, asking for a blond American, learning how to get to the house. After enough time had passed so that he could reasonably expect to hear someone coming, he steeled himself as usual against disappointment.
When he heard Peter’s unmistakable hurrying footsteps, he leaped up and his heart felt as if it would burst his chest with joy. They were getting near. For a terrible moment, he thought they might have taken a wrong turning. He couldn’t hear them. Was that the sound of voices? One brief feminine note. Martha? Oh, no, his mind protested. He forgot it as the footsteps came clear again, louder, almost here.
At the knock, he rushed to the door and flung it open. Peter stood in front of him. They looked at each other without moving. Charlie longed to seize him and hold him in his arms, but as soon as the first rapturous shock of his presence passed he knew he mustn’t get them off to a false start. He was aware immediately that Peter was holding back, too.
“I’m in a blazing rage,” Peter said sharply, “but that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t stand not knowing where you are.”
“I’m glad you found me. Don’t you have a bag?”
“I left it below. I wasn’t sure I’d be invited to stay.”
“You’re invited, with qualifications maybe. I still don’t know what they are.”
“I see. Well, my acceptance is apt to be pretty damn qualified, too. Did the goddamn hotel lose your message or didn’t you really leave one?”
“I didn’t leave one. Well, I told them to tell you I was still in Greece.”
Peter swept past him into the house, lighting it up with a blaze of vitality. “What’s it supposed to be, a treasure hunt?” he demanded. “Usually they give you clues.”
Charlie closed the door, realizing that he was thrilled by him in a way he had never been before, thrilled in some unfamiliar feminine part of himself that was quickened by the virility that had been growing more pronounced in Peter and now made him a commanding presence. “I knew you’d guess,” he said, almost apologetically. “I left my bag.”
“What was that supposed to tell me? God, what a trip. I’d have gone out of my mind if you hadn’t been here.”
“I’m sorry. But you must’ve been pretty sure I would be. This is the only place we talked about buying a house. Where else could I have gone?”
“How do I know? I don’t know what to expect any more. Did you buy it?”
“In both our names. There’re some papers you’re supposed to sign.”
Peter looked around him at the big bare room and a glimmer of a smile twisted his lips. “I’m glad you haven’t over furnished it. All right. Tell me. What’s it all about this time?”
“What? Coming here without leaving word? I had to do it that way. I had to make a complete break. I had to find out what it felt like. It was the only way to discover what’s been wrong with me.”
“Wrong with you?” Peter sat in one of the chairs at the table and looked up at him, a challenge in his lively eyes. Even when he was angry, there was too much love and interest in his face for his anger to seem hostile. “I thought I was the one who was always wrong. I was once, God knows.”
Charlie sat across the table from him and nodded briefly. “That’s part of it. The essential part, I guess. There are more important things than sex, but it certainly causes most of the trouble. I’ve been wondering if you were wrong. I’ve been trying to look at myself and us and everything. I’ve been going around in circles. I don’t know if you should stay, but seeing you has certainly lifted one load off my mind.” He put his hand out to him on the table.
Peter looked at it but didn’t move. “What if I’d just given up and gone home?”
“I knew you wouldn’t.”
“You’re pretty sure of me, aren’t you? I’m proud of that.”
“You have the right to be. I wish I had as much to be proud of. Did all go well with Cassandra?”
“Sure. It was unmitigated hell. Thanks for asking. We got back day before yesterday. There wasn’t a boat till today. It’s been nice in Athens, wondering about you.”
“Will y
ou please believe me? I cracked up. Surely that was obvious enough. Wrecking the boat. Jesus. If I hadn’t come out here or somewhere and tried to come to grips with myself, I don’t know what would’ve become of me.”
Peter’s eyes filled with solicitude, although everything else about him remained tough and unyielding. “Are you all right now?”
“More or less. It helps to find out things.” He paused, looking at Peter with fresh eyes. He saw a hard strength in him that hadn’t been there before. He had hardened physically and his youthfulness seemed less a phenomenon than the natural emanation of thriving health. It occurred to Charlie that perhaps he hadn’t been a total failure after all. “I think I’ve found out things.”
“Such as?” Peter’s tone was demanding. The soft dependence was gone.
Charlie wondered if it would end with his pleading to retain a place in his life. This, too, gave him an uneasy thrill. “I know I’ve had to be alone. I may still have to be alone, even though it’s wonderful being with you now.”
“Well, I suppose you might as well be alone if you don’t want to touch me.”
“It isn’t just a question of wanting. I wanted to the minute I opened the door and saw you.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Peter put his hand out and Charlie took it in both of his and leaned over and kissed it. Peter moved his fingers in a brief caress. “That feels better. What else do you know?”
“I know I’m human. I’ve given up trying to play God. Being human presents me with a new set of problems.” Charlie paused and then plunged in more abruptly than he had intended, not sure that he would be able to define the basic problem but determined to try. “I saw your Dimitri on the dock at Poros the other day. If I could’ve got off the boat, I’d have stayed with him. For a minute, I would’ve given up everything just to be with him for an hour. I gather that’s what you felt about Jeannot. How can we not give in to things like that and stay alive? The fact that maybe you weren’t wrong has led me to some pretty strange conclusions.”
“Just a minute, before we get to conclusions,” Peter said, his look hardening. “How about this? One of the best-looking guys I’ve ever seen picked me up at a bar last night. American. Sensational. Damn nice, too. Intelligent. Everything. I could have had him—in the time-honored fashion. He made that clear enough. You, Martha—all right, start with Jeannot—well, I didn’t know what I’ve been missing all these years. It’s still new enough so that it does things to me that are pretty hard to resist. If I’d been on my own, I might’ve fallen for the guy in a big way. Once would’ve been better than never. Is that the sort of thing you’re talking about? Are you trying to say I should have had him?”
“Yes. No. When it happens to me, I can understand it. When it’s you, I can’t take it. There, by God. Now we can get down to brass tacks.” He slammed his fists down on the table and leaned forward. “You tear me apart. My being so sure of myself and knowing what’s best for us is a goddamn act. I’m rotten with jealousy. I’ve found out that I’m literally capable of killing you. That’s why I say I have to leave you. The only hope I can see for us is to stop having sex with each other and find it somewhere else.”
“What are you raving about?” Peter demanded.
“Stand up.”
Peter looked at him as he leaned intensely across the table. There was a wild gleam in his eye. Peter shrugged and did as he was told. Charlie sprang up and swung his fist. It connected hard with Peter’s jaw. He went careening back across the room.
“That’s for Jeannot.” Charlie roared. “That’s what I want to do whenever I think of him. That little tap I gave you in St. Tropez was nothing. I want to beat the shit out of you when you even look at anybody else. Do you want to live with that?”
Peter shook his head and steadied himself. He flung off the light jacket he was wearing. “I’ll answer that question later. Right now, I’m going to do something I’ve been waiting to do for years.”
He went for Charlie with fists flying and crowded him back into a corner of the room. Charlie was hurting before he realized that Peter was in earnest. He fought back, smashing his fists into the hard body. He was careful not to land any punches near his eyes or mouth. Peter observed the same caution but they were hurting each other. Their breathing became labored. They grunted as their fists hammered each other.
Peter landed a strong blow to the side of Charlie’s jaw. His head snapped back and for a moment his sight failed. Peter followed up his advantage with a blow to his solar plexus and another hard one under the heart. This is a man, Charlie thought with wonder as his breath was cut off; I’m in love with a man. He flung himself forward and felt Peter catch his weight and support him as he waited for his body to recover.
“Had enough?” Peter asked cheerfully despite the heaving of his chest.
Charlie nodded. As he began to breathe more easily, he was shaken by helpless laughter. Revelation had descended on him once more: this was what he had always wanted—a man he could cling to, who could beat him into his senses when he lost his bearings. He didn’t know why it should take him so by surprise; all the history of their lives pointed to it. Peter had chosen his career and had guided him through it. Peter had kept him. Peter had always provided the solid foundations; he, only the dramatic flourishes. He had been misled by the sexual role he had played. The reversal he had initiated in Athens hadn’t been a passing whim but the expression of a long-felt, unrecognized need. And it had worked for Peter too. He could tell by the way Peter held him that it had worked. As his strength returned to him, his laughter redoubled.
“What’s so funny, you shit?” Peter demanded with a chuckle. “You hurt me. It was sort of fun but I don’t see that it gets us anywhere.”
Charlie pulled himself up and settled his weight on his own feet and looked at him. “It gets us through life, Slugger darling. God, what a man. Thank God, I didn’t hurt that mouth.”
“Is this the traditional clinch?”
“Why not?”
Their mouths met and they kissed at length, holding each other close in spite of their drained and aching bodies. Their mouths parted and Peter laughed.
“How D. H. Lawrence can we get?” he said. He moved his hips against Charlie’s. “Mmm. Everything seems to be working normally. What was all that about not having sex together?”
“More of my brilliant analysis of a nonexistent situation. I overlooked the fact that you’re the man in the family.”
Peter looked at him with a sly smile. “I guess maybe we both are. At least, I’m not as much one of the girls as I thought. I was really steaming at the idea of letting that guy have it last night. He was very butch, too. How’s that for a switch? It’s amazing the things you know about us, the things you know about me that I don’t even know myself.”
“Feminine intuition, my darling.”
“Look who’s calling me darling. What’s wrong with baby?”
“You’re nobody’s baby now.”
They laughed and Peter gave him a quick kiss and broke away from him. “Come on. Show me our house. I hope there’s a good strong bed that’ll hold both of us. I intend to put it to a rude test. What’s out here?”
“Be careful. Part of it doesn’t look very solid.” They went out onto the terrace overhanging the port.
“My God, how beautiful,” Peter said in an awestruck tone. “Just the way I imagined it.”
“This is where I wait for you to show up.”
“Of all the nutty ideas. I still don’t see why you were so sure I’d pick this place.”
“I wasn’t. I figured if you couldn’t find me, you didn’t deserve to have me.”
“Bastard.” He took Charlie’s hand. “Always keep ’em guessing. It makes life interesting. Things happen to us. I’ve been wanting to tell you how amazing it was, being with Martha and knowing you were there growing inside her. Don’t let’s kid ourselves. It’s you. I almost fell in love with her. There wasn’t any question of sex again after you lef
t but—well, I’m glad there’s a little Charlie at last.”
Charlie squeezed Peter’s hand. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re thinking it would be nice for there to be a little Peter, too.”
“There you go again. Yes, the idea’s beginning to make sense to me. You’ve started something that’s pretty fascinating. I even understand what you meant about the sex part of it. As far as I’m concerned, sex will always be you, but there was something special about doing it with Martha—simple and natural, thinking about having a baby. How’s that for a queer? Honestly, all the fuss about male and female! It’s a wonder it hasn’t turned us both into screaming queens. Speaking of which, there’s more about Martha.”
Charlie remembered the voices and he stared at Peter in the dark. “For God’s sake. Don’t tell me you’ve brought her with you.”
“The old intuition is working overtime. Yes. I was in such a state that she offered to come in case I didn’t find you and went off my rocker. She was marvelous to me on the trip back. Always there when I needed her.”
“You mean, we’re going to have to have her up here?”
“Not tonight, idiot. I showed her the hotel and brought her partway up here so she’d know where we were. I told her if I didn’t come back, it would be because you were fucking me silly.”
“Or vice-versa?”
“Well, yes, now that you mention it. Maybe vice-versa.”
They looked at each other, just catching the glitter of eyes in the light from the lamp, and burst out laughing. Charlie knew that he was given to extremes of optimism and despair, but he felt that even his jealousy would be manageable now that he saw Peter in the light of his real need. In spite of his talk about the boy last night, or perhaps because of it, he didn’t think he would stray in that direction again. There might well be girls. He found it exciting to think of sharing him with girls. He tangled his fingers in the golden hair and held on. “You’re my Slugger.”
The Peter & Charlie Trilogy Page 69
