“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard Judy Garland died?”
I’m stunned. I’ve loved her ever since I saw The Wizard of Oz on TV when I was a little kid. How could she be dead?
“That can’t be true, Becky.”
She nods her head. “Oh, it’s true all right. Died of an overdose in London yesterday.”
I knew Judy had a problem with drugs. After all, the studio had kept her hopped up on drugs to keep her working. LuLu told me all about that.
“That’s horrible,” I say.
“Yeah. Great talent,” Becky says, heading to her department.
I spend the day not really concentrating on my work. I am destroyed by Judy’s dying. Such an incredible talent. Gone. I can’t stop thinking of never seeing a new movie with her again, of never seeing her again on TV, of how her children Liza, Lorna, and Joey must feel. It makes me so sad.
As soon as I clock out, I head to Jeep’s. His mother’s home, so our favorite thing is out today. But I’m not in the mood anyway. I just want comfort over Judy’s death, and Jeep’s good at comfort. Even his mom’s upset with the news.
I spend a couple of hours with them, and then I go home.
Mother and Daddy are watching the ten o’clock news when I come in the back door.
I must be a mess, because Daddy says, “Why so hangdog, King Cat?”
“Judy Garland died.”
“Some movie star killing herself is no reason to mope,” he says.
“Dewey’s a big fan of hers,” Mother tells Daddy. “It’s okay to be sad, dear,” she says to me.
“She didn’t kill herself, you know. It was an accident.”
Daddy is wise enough to not say anything more this time. Judy may have been a drug user, but I know she didn’t do this on purpose.
It is announced Judy’s funeral will be on June 28 in Manhattan. Thousands of people lined up to get a glimpse of Judy in her glass-topped casket the two days before.
At her funeral, James Mason, her costar in A Star Is Born gave the eulogy. I watch as it is replayed on that night’s news. I see Mickey Rooney was there, as were a lot of other celebrities. An enormous crowd of people gathered on the sidewalk to gawk at the people as they went into the chapel. The saddest sight was her kids as they arrived. I cry buckets as I watch the news. And Daddy doesn’t say a word.
Next day, I go to Jeep’s after work. He’s waiting for me on his porch, busting to tell me something.
“Did you hear? Did you hear?”
“Hear what, Jeep?” What news could be worse than or more important than Wednesday’s horrible news?
“My friend in New York called. Something amazing happened last night in Greenwich Village.”
I follow him into his house, where he sits me down. Then he drops next to me.
“A bunch of drag queens were out at this bar called the Stonewall Inn. They were really torn up over Judy Garland’s funeral yesterday. Well, late at night—actually early this next morning—some cops started harassing them. It happens all the time, my friend says.” Funny thing—Jeep has never told me the guy’s name. I guess my friend is good enough for Jeep. I focus back on Jeep’s story.
“So, usually the queens get carted off to jail for a night, or the cops run ’em off, and then force free drinks from the bartenders. Last night, though, the queens, I guess, were just too torn up over that funeral, so they fought back. Dewey, they actually fought back. From what my friend tells me, what he heard, the cops were arresting the bartenders at the Stonewall for selling drinks without a license. They do that all the time. A lot of gay bars in New York have been shut down. So, while the cops were putting the bar guys in the paddy wagon, they decided to arrest a couple of drag queens for good measure. The other queens got furious. My friend said it was because Judy Garland, the singer they loved most in the world, had just been buried, they were grieving, and they decided not to take it anymore. They started throwing bottles at the cops. It turned into a full-scale street fight. They had to call the riot police to finally get it under control. Can you imagine that?”
“Wow. That’s amazing. Fighting back like that would never happen here.”
“You’re right, Dewey. We have to stay locked here in our closets—that’s what they call it, you know—but in f-ing New York City, somebody had the courage, at last, to fight back and tell the world we’re human too. Drag queens or just gay boys like us, all us gay people deserve to be respected. This might start something, Dewey. Something good for everybody who’s gay.”
“I hope so, Jeep. I certainly hope so.” And I think, I only hope I have the courage to fight back someday.
The summer seems to go by in a flash. As June turns into July, I find more and more time to be with Jeep. When we’re not making love, Jeep goes on and on about that music festival his friend told him about. The Woodstock Festival, as they are now calling it, is set to be held in someplace called White Lake, near Bethel, New York—like I know where either of those places are—on August 15, 16, and 17. They’re officially calling it the Woodstock Music and Art Fair. Jeep’s friend says the posters also read, “An Aquarian Exposition, Three Days of Peace and Music.” Jeep knows all about it, thanks to his friend. We, of course, here in Fort Worth, barely hear anything about it. And we certainly haven’t seen one of the posters.
But Woodstock’s all Jeep can talk about. July and early August. The thing’s just two weeks away, and Jeep can’t shut up.
“Wow, Dewey, can you imagine? Three full days of the best musicians around? God, I wish I could go.” He adds, “I wish we could go.”
“Dream on, Jeep,” I say, caressing his cheek as we lie there in his bed. He has just taken a phone call from his friend. I’m glad we’d pretty much finished our fun when the phone rang. “You might be able to put together the dough, but it’s too close to when I start school. I’ll be too busy getting ready to leave to traipse off to upstate New York.”
Saying that hurts. I don’t want to leave Jeep. But NTSU is calling. I have to go.
“No way I could find that much bread. It’d cost a fortune to go, even if I could thumb it all the way there. I’d still have to eat and get a motel room some of the time. I’d sleep out most of the way, but a man’s gotta shower every once in a while. Cost a couple of hundred, at least. I’m saving what I make at Safeway to go to Tarrant County. While you get the royal treatment at North Texas F-ing U, I’ve got to get in my two years, at least, at junior college. For that I need money, money, money. No, Woodstock’s not in my future. Like you said, Dewey, just a dream.”
He sounds so sad.
“I wish I could get you there, Jeep.”
“I know you do, Dew. But you know what makes me sadder than the fact I can’t go to Woodstock?”
“No, what?”
He leans in and pecks a kiss on my nose. “That you’re goin’ away.”
“I’m only going to Denton. Thirty-five measly miles away. It’s not like I’m heading to the University of Singapore—if there is such a thing.”
“I know that, Dew. But I won’t get to see you every day, like now. And even if you come home on weekends, where can we do this?” He makes a sweeping motion that says our bed activities.
“We’ll find a way, Jeep. I’m not giving this up for anything.” And we go for another quick round before his mom comes home.
My mind’s full of how soon it will be before I go off to college. How sad I will be. Oh, I know college’ll be exciting, but I’ll be missing Jeep like mad.
As I come in the back door, Daddy’s sitting in his chair. I expected him to be in bed by now.
“You’re home pretty late,” he says quietly.
I’m confused. He never waits up for me, especially since I graduated.
“Yeah,” I say, “I was over at Jeep’s.”
“You’re spending a lot of time with that boy.”
“Uh-huh.” What’s this about?
“You need to start concentrating on getting ready for school. Spend less time with tha
t boy.”
Why does he keep calling Jeep that boy? And was that spend less time a suggestion or an order? I look him in the eye, trying to figure out what brought this on.
“A guy at the shop saw you two at Kip’s last Saturday night. He didn’t say anything to me, but I overheard him talking to some of the other guys. I don’t like what I heard.”
So here it comes. My secret is out.
“You’re not to see that boy again, you hear? I know what I heard’s not true, but I don’t like people talking about my son. So no more.”
It’s now or never. Life has a way of moving things along.
“I can’t do that,” I say, softly.
“Can’t do what?” His eyes are steel.
“Quit seeing Jeep.” I can almost feel his eyes cut right through me, puncturing me. “I love him.”
The look on Daddy’s face is terrifying.
I stand there. He sits. Minutes fill the cold, cold void.
“You can stay until you leave for college. But after that, don’t ever come back. No son of mine’s a fag.”
The way he says it. Frigid. Unwavering.
The days wear on after that. The usually hot, humid days, the fiery days of August, are arctic in our house. It is unbearable, but I don’t have any other place to go to until I move into the dorm.
Mother’s kinder to me than Daddy. She at least speaks to me.
“I can’t even begin to understand, dear. The Bible says it’s wrong. But you’re my son, and I love you, so I can live with it. I know your Daddy’s angry and hurt right now. He’ll come around. Just wait it out.”
But she’s delusional. I saw those eyes. I heard those words. He won’t come around, as she says.
I try to spend as much time with Jeep as I can. And he tries to comfort me. Staying away from the house makes Daddy even madder than if I were around all the time. And Jeep’s comforting only reminds me I will be separated from him soon.
The day before I’m to leave for college, I make my decision, and I tell Jeep. At first, he refuses my plan because he thinks we don’t have enough money. But I assure him I’ve saved almost all I’ve made this summer. Now I only have to tell my folks—well, Mother, at least.
I pull her into my room as soon as she gets home from work.
“Mother, I’ve made a decision. You won’t like it. And certainly Daddy won’t like it. But this is what’s going to happen.”
She starts to talk, but I put up my hand. “No, let me speak. Jeep and I are going to New York City—to live.” Again, she tries to speak. And again, I stop her.
“Just hear me out. This is hard for me, and I want to say everything before you try to talk me out of it, as I know you will.” She nods. I don’t know if the nod means she will keep quiet, or if it means she’ll surely try to talk me out of it. I decide it means both, and I keep talking. “There is a music festival starting on the fifteenth Jeep wants to go to, so we’re driving there first. After it’s over, we’re heading to New York City. Last month, something monumental happened there that will affect gay people for a long, long time, Jeep and I think. If any gay person can live openly and happily anywhere, I believe it’s in NYC. And the opportunities for getting acting jobs there are really good.” I lie a little because I’ve read most actors make their money as waiters because competition is so stiff, but I have to throw out a tiny lifeline here. “So I can act and Jeep can do his music, and we can live together without the disapproving eyes of Texas staring at us.” I finish. I take a breath, glad to have spilled the beans.
“Oh, Dewey, dear, what about your scholarship?” I hear a tremble in her voice; I see tears forming. “What about the draft? If you don’t go to school, you’ll get called up. I couldn’t bear it if you got sent to Vietnam.”
“I’ve thought about that, Mother. There’s no way I’ll fight in that terrible mess. I’ll tell the draft board I’m gay. It’s the truth, and they’ll never draft me. Jeep has a friend who says all you do is check a box saying you’ve had sex fantasies about other men. After that, a psychiatrist asks you questions, and you get classified 1-Y, I think it is. I won’t be fighting in Nam, that’s for sure.”
“Dewey, your daddy doesn’t want you to fight, either, but he would be so embarrassed if you admitted you are that way to the draft board.”
“Then you can tell Daddy I convinced them I’m a conscientious objector. I am, so it wouldn’t be a total lie.”
“But baby, what about school? Are you just going to give up all that?”
“I have to, Mother. Don’t you see? Daddy won’t let me come home again, and I would be miserable without Jeep. I could bear it if I could come home weekends, but I can’t come home. I could sneak around, maybe stay at Jeep’s house, but it’d hurt so much, knowing that you were just a mile away, and I couldn’t see you. No, going all the way to New York’s the best thing.”
“Please don’t do this, Dewey.”
“My mind’s made up. When I leave here tomorrow, I will pick up Jeep, and we’re heading to Woodstock Music Festival. After that, a whole new life. A life of freedom with the man I love.”
Mother cries a moment, and then she dries her tears and stands taller. “I’ll tell your daddy.”
“No, Mother. I have to do that.”
I go to find him. And I say my piece. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t even look at me. I finish, and I go back to my room. Mother has changed into her housedress when she stops at my door.
“I’ll make some dinner, dear. I’m not hungry, but I’m sure you and your daddy will eat.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry either.”
She leaves, and I never smell any food odors as I pack my stuff. I guess dinner never got fixed.
I’m up early and begin loading my car, going back and forth from the house up the driveway to our parking lot. I don’t have much to take with me, but it takes several trips. Neither Mother nor Daddy has said a word to me all morning. Daddy, in fact, sits in his chair, eyeing me silently each time I pass through the den to the back door.
It tears my heart out. Daddy was so quick to change his mind about Vietnam and the boys dying over there. It seemed like his attitude morphed overnight about that. Maybe it was Danny’s dying, Jo’s talk with him—and I know, my performance in LOVE—that were the powerful forces that brought about such an instant change.
But this thing—my being gay. I don’t think he’ll look at it differently. Not anytime soon. It’s all so bound up in beliefs and grief and embarrassment. A man can’t discard a lifetime of believing in an instant, especially if he thinks he’s losing his only son and is likely to face harassment from friends and coworkers if they find all this out.
Yeah, I understand. But oh, how it hurts.
I simply want to wave a magic wand or say a special prayer, so that poof, Daddy turns from angry to happy, back from hate to love.
As I pass through the kitchen lugging a box of play scripts, Mother stops me. She drops a paper bag on top of the box. “I packed some biscuit and sausage sandwiches for the road. There’s enough for you both. Are you all packed?”
I nod.
“I’ll see you out.” And together we walk past Daddy, still sitting glumly in his chair, and out the door to my car.
I feel a tear slide down my cheek. My hands are full, so I can’t brush it away. Mother says nothing as she gently wipes the tear. Then she speaks.
“I’m going to miss you so much, dear. You take care of yourself in that big city. And bundle up when it’s cold. You think it gets cold here, you just wait until you have a New York winter.” She’s babbling. I think it’s to prolong my leaving.
I put the box in the trunk of the car, and then she grabs me, encircles me with her arms, pulls me to her, and gives me the tightest hug I’ve ever had. And she won’t let go. “I love you, son.”
We break away, and I realize Grandma and Grandpa have come from their trailer to say good-bye. Grandpa shakes my hand, saying, “You be good, boy.” He always
calls me boy.
Grandma is echoing Mother’s tears as she kisses me on the cheek. “What am I going to do without you, honey? You make us proud. I want to be in the front row when you star on that Broadway thing.”
I hug her and tell her I love her. I look at all three of them, trying to fight back tears. I’ll never leave if I start bawling. It’s gotta be hard leaving home anytime you do it, but the way I’m doing it makes it harder. Here I am, fleeing so I can start a career so few succeed in, so I can be with the man I love, so I can be who I’m meant to be and only realized who that was so little time ago. And leaving the man who raised me and loved me and now hates me.
I fight the tears.
A tug at my arm.
I turn.
Daddy.
He thrusts folded bills into my hand. I look down and see they are hundreds, several of them.
“You’re gonna need this, King Cat.”
More from Russell J. Sanders
Ethan Harker is the son of The Prophet, the stern, demanding leader of a small Southwestern polygamous community. Ethan has been groomed to one day take his place as the leader of this isolated cult.
But things happen that compel Ethan to flee his stifling community and find his way in the world beyond it. Totally out of his depth, he is sheltered by a remarkable group of people from a loving and accepting church. From them, he learns what family truly means and begins to construct a life free from the restrictions he’s grown up with. Little by little he dismisses the assumptions he was taught about the “evil” people in the outside world.
Amid all this, Ethan realizes something about himself when he meets rapper Kyan, a boy his age. Although he’s been brought up to fear and hate members of Kyan’s race, he can’t help falling in love with Kyan. Fueled by a new understanding and new friends, Ethan gains the strength and courage to conquer the confusing world he has been thrust into.
With a beautiful girlfriend, a scholarship to a prestigious musical theater school, and talent to spare, life is good for high school senior Neil Darrien. He’s on his way to stardom, but then newcomer Zane Jeffrey secures a place in the school show choir, rousing Neil’s envy. Neil soon sees there’s more to Zane than a talented performer, though—he’s funny and charming, and the two boys become friends.
All You Need Is Love Page 24
