“I know, Will,” he said, smiling sadly again. “I shouldn’t have done anything with him. I didn’t want to, but then…well, I did, in a way. It’s been a while.”
“That’s what I figured. That’s why I’m kind of sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you how he came on to me.”
So we talked about that for a while, and then he went back to what happened in the bar. “There was this one guy I wanted to meet,” he said. “But Trevor and his friends just wouldn’t leave me alone. And when I finally did break away, he was gone.”
“Was there something special about this guy?” My heart was actually pounding at the thought of some perfect and nice guy sitting by himself at the bar, maybe too frightened to strike up a conversation, and Uncle Sean having eyes for him, wanting to talk to him, and both of them maybe being right for each other.
“Not really,” Uncle Sean said. “Well, maybe there was. He looked lost and a little frightened, and our eyes met a few times, and I could swear his whole face brightened each time. Then one of Trevor’s friends came up and started messing around with me, playing like he was…well…being slutty.”
I hurt for the stranger, for him and Uncle Sean, and what might’ve been a missed opportunity, but since I’d never been to one of the gay bars, I couldn’t really imagine what it was like. I didn’t think I wanted to.
“You ought’a go again, Uncle Sean. Maybe the guy will come back.”
But Uncle Sean shook his head. “I just do not have time to sit and drink and hang out like that. It depresses me and makes me angry at the same time.”
So our conversation ended, and we both went to bed. I knew that Uncle Sean was disappointed in himself, which made me feel a lot less angry toward him and the way he had hopped into bed with Trevor on the first date. I lay for a long time thinking, wondering how Uncle Sean was ever going to come out of his shell if he wouldn’t go to the places where he could at least meet other men. Then I shuddered knowing that I wouldn’t want to be stuck having to do the same thing. He said I was lucky to have Lance and, as I lay in bed, I knew I was. He hadn’t said it sadly, just matter-of-fact. I wanted the same thing for Uncle Sean, so I felt guilty that I sometimes felt sorry for myself because Lance and I were separated while Uncle Sean didn’t have anyone.
Chapter Ten:
The New Boy Friend
Something great has happened to Uncle Sean, and I think it’s the beginning of a dream I’ve had for him for a long time—at least back as far as I’ve known about his great love, Theodore Seabrook.
So how do I tell about it? Uncle Sean went back to Trevor’s bar a couple of weeks after that disastrous dinner party and his blind date with Trevor. He had secretly been hoping that the guy he’d seen there (whose face lit up every time Uncle Sean caught his eye) would show up again, which is why he eventually began going back to the bar, even though he had angrily decided against it for about two weeks. Then one night when he was dressed in casual but stylish clothes and I asked him where he was going, he smiled sadly, saying he just had to see if that guy might show up again. We both knew who he was talking about, and I joined him in his sad smile, because I doubted he would ever see him again, though I didn’t tell Uncle Sean that. Still it kind of broke my heart at the hopelessness of it all.
But a few nights later when Uncle Sean was at the bar again, I was doing my homework, watching the clock because it was getting close to ten and Uncle Sean wasn’t home yet. I was about to jump out of my skin because I was worried that he would miss too much sleep. Not that he ever seemed to overdo the drinking. That was the farthest thing from my mind. I just could not stand to see him silent and withdrawn when he came home and more than likely to light up a joint and go to bed stoned. So when I heard his key in the lock I relaxed. I didn’t get up right away. I was in my bedroom at my desk. But then I thought I’d go say hi and then get back to studying for my math test. I was really surprised when I went into the living room to see Uncle Sean and this other man heading into the kitchen. They hadn’t turned on the lights, and it was kind of dark with only the fluorescent on over the sink.
So I was about to back out of the living room, fearing that he would think I was being nosy and feeling dread in my stomach that he had just picked up some guy for the night. But when Uncle Sean heard me, he called my name and I could hear a hint of excitement in his voice.
“We’re going to have some coffee, Will. Join us?”
I moved into the kitchen, curious as hell and apprehensive and flipped on the light in the breakfast alcove, hoping not to appear too curious. My first impression was that Uncle Sean’s friend was utterly ordinary. He was several inches shorter than Uncle Sean, a little soft where Uncle Sean was lean and square, with dark brown hair where Uncle Sean was blond. Not being a good judge of age, all I could really tell at the moment was that this guy might be five or ten years older than Uncle Sean, which made him mid-to-late thirties. But when we shook hands as we were introduced, the guy smiled. It was like Uncle Sean had said of the guy he’d seen in the bar, his face lit up and, in a completely different sort of way, he was very nice looking.
I liked Hank Kirsten immediately. When Uncle Sean got me alone for a moment on the pretext that he needed to find a certain LP in the stereo cabinet, he said, “He’s the guy from that night!” This was in a stage whisper, and I just couldn’t help but laugh aloud, which caused Uncle Sean to grin from ear-to-ear and bring a finger to his lips. Then he quickly grabbed an album and I placed it on the turn-table and eased the volume up so it would sound all right in the kitchen.
When the coffee was ready, I got the cups and saucers and threw some cookies onto a plate and joined Hank and Uncle Sean at the breakfast table. Under the light, I saw that Hank was pale skinned and that he had a bad haircut which, as we got acquainted, just made him seem a little more cute to me. He certainly wasn’t a spiffy dresser like Carlos or Bryce, and his clothes looked a little more lived in than Uncle Sean ever allowed his to get. That was kind of nice, too, making Hank someone you felt immediately at ease with. He was wearing a dull brown suit that must’ve come off the rack at Sears, and his dress shoes were scuffed, as though he walked a lot. I could imagine that he walked with a casual gait, careless to avoid oil spots from parking lots or rocks in his path.
When he laughed, he got into it with his whole face, and looked at me and Uncle Sean openly.
“I confess, Will,” Hank said, after the conversation was less stilted and we were talking about how he and Uncle Sean had met, “I kept going back to the bar, hoping to catch another glimpse of Sean.”
“But we kept missing each other,” Uncle Sean added.
“I never could make myself stay more than half an hour, once I was there, because those places scare me.”
“And I kept going too late,” Uncle Sean added, again.
“Until tonight?” I asked.
They both nodded.
So it turned out that Uncle Sean’s interest in Hank was more than just a passing curiosity. There was something about Hank that had affected him deeply in that first and only exchange of glances, something that made him hope he would see Hank again.
I suppose it was the same thing that had made Hank go back night after night, too, until they’d finally connected.
I wasn’t going to say “love at first sight,” but as I watched them together, I could tell there was something deeper than just casual interest between them. They also appeared to be kind of nervous, as when Uncle Sean got up to do something then sat down again and asked Hank if he wanted more coffee and Hank looked into his still full cup and said yes, and Uncle Sean went ahead and poured a couple of drops into the cup. I was nervous too, because it was really painful to watch them—funny painful, maybe. But for all their cuteness together, I still hoped Uncle Sean wasn’t going to have Hank spend the night—at least not that first night. It was none of my business. I just didn’t want it to be the same old thing. Meet a guy, have sex, and then see if there’s anything deeper possi
ble. I didn’t want Uncle Sean to relive his experience with Trevor, either, because he had felt guilty afterwards about sleeping with him on the first date, since it really wasn’t what Uncle Sean wanted.
I’m kind of embarrassed as I write this, because I was expecting Uncle Sean to put off sleeping with Hank until he got to know him better; yet when Lance and I met we held off at most a day.
Another thing I liked about the night Uncle Sean brought Hank home was he didn’t bring out the wine or his pot stash. We just drank our coffee, nibbled on the cookies Mama had given us, and talked. After a while, I decided I needed to leave them alone, so I kissed Uncle Sean on the cheek and shook hands with Hank. His skin was warm and his grip was firm—both of which I liked.
Then I lay awake listening, hoping I wouldn’t soon hear the headboard bumping.
I heard laughter, instead, which sounded muffled through the walls, and eventually, when I was drifting off, Uncle Sean came into my room and sat in the dark on the edge of my bed and talked to me.
“So, what did you think?” he asked.
I knew what he meant. “I like him. He seems like a good sort. You?”
Uncle Sean didn’t say anything for a moment.
I could feel my heart pounding, and I was afraid he was going to say he was disappointed in Hank or something.
“I’m not getting my hopes up, Will. I can’t. But we’ve agreed to go out again.”
I felt relieved. “That’s good. Then you hit it off?”
Uncle Sean chuckled. “What drew me to him in the first place was how vulnerable and even frightened he looked that first night when I saw him.”
“It had to be more than that,” I said.
“He’s kind of cute.”
“He’s a Teddy bear, all right,” I said, immediately regretting that I’d said ‘Teddy.’
“He’s recently divorced,” Uncle Sean said.
“What kind of divorce? You mean he was married to a woman?”
“Yes. He said he was married for seven years.”
“Any children?”
“A little boy.”
So our conversation went.
Even though I was growing sleepy and probably drifted in and out of sleep, every time I came back to consciousness, Uncle Sean was still there, still talking about Hank.
“He’s a music teacher at Stephen F. Austin High…”
“…custody of his boy.”
* * *
Anyway, Hank was a guest at our house almost nightly after Uncle Sean brought him home that first night, and they went out together, though they did simple things like take in a movie, eat dinner out, take walks in the neighborhood.
So, when Uncle Sean came into my room one weekend morning when I was getting dressed after my run and said, “I think we’re going to sleep together tonight,” I couldn’t have been happier. Over the last couple of weeks I had really grown to like Hank and figured he and Uncle Sean had a lot of things in common and enough differences to keep their relationship interesting.
“That’s great, Uncle Sean!” I said, giving him a hug. Then I remembered about the ZZ Top concert that same night and told him I probably wouldn’t be home very early. “So you guys can run around naked if you want.”
We both laughed, and then I headed out the door. I was looking forward to the concert, and I was glad it was on the same night that Uncle Sean and Hank would probably prefer having the apartment to themselves.
Chapter Eleven:
ZZ Top and the Nightmare
I’m out here at the lake, and even though it’s still muggy and hot and I still sweat before I take a dip in the water to cool off, there’s been a change in the way the trees and grasses look. It’s late September and fall has begun its slow sapping of the green. In this heat, even the trees look kind of tired, ready to give up summer’s lush display. Almost a month has passed since I last wrote more than little diary entries in this journal. Classes have begun to stretch into infinity like a highway in the middle of West Texas, seeming never to have an end. And I feel as though I’ve been ruined by something that happened to me—or that I dreamed happened. Not knowing if it was real or imagined disturbs and haunts me during my waking hours. The texture and detail of the dream is always just out of reach for me to stare it in the face to see exactly what it is. I’ve even lost weight over the worry the dream causes me, because when it first occurred, I wasn’t sure at all that it was a dream. I’m still not really sure, and this doubt is what makes me sweat, makes me feel violated in a way I can’t grasp, and keeps me from eating. At times I feel sad and teary, at others just stunned with the endlessness of this semester and life here without Lance. So, I’ve been living in kind of a daze this entire month as fall slowly creeps in. And so I’ve decided I’ve got to write it down, but before I do, I need to get things down in the order that they happened.
* * *
I had left the house as usual the morning that Uncle Sean said Hank was going to spend the night. So I was in a great frame of mind when I got to work at the geology department, and my day went great. I saw Charlie for lunch and he reminded me about the ZZ Top concert, which was totally unnecessary, since posters had gone up around campus and practically everywhere you looked were reminders. Besides that, I walk or drive past the stadium almost every day, and that morning, three semi-trucks and a bus were parked outside the stadium. I remember being surprised that just one band would need so much equipment. Then that afternoon, I showered, got dressed, and visited with Uncle Sean for a few minutes, helping him to straighten the living room and put clean sheets on his bed. He was fretting and I was teasing him, and I left full of hope that all would go well for him, though I can’t say I was that excited about the concert, since I didn’t know much about the group.
When I got to Charlie’s dorm room, I was surprised to see other guys I recognized from GPA, including Tim, Renato, and Lee. I thought it was an odd combination, but then among the gays, there’s wider inclusion of differences, like drag and butch guys, new Bohemians and leather guys. I was also surprised that apparently it wasn’t going to be just Charlie and me going to the concert. I went on in to the small dorm room. It was kind of close in there and I popped out into a sweat almost immediately.
Anyway, about the differences, even our appearance was wide-ranging. Tim was wearing black bell-bottoms and a purple tank top, and I think I liked him better when he was in drag and wearing makeup. Without the fluffy wig, the mascara, and lipstick, he looked somewhat emaciated. Lee was in his usual dirty jeans and tonight he was wearing a ZZ Top T-shirt. I remembered Lee from the GPA meetings but had never thought much about him, other than that he wore the campus costume for what I thought of as the new Bohemians. But I noticed for the first time that he had beautiful green eyes and a square chin. A little on the skinny side and at least as tall as I was, I thought two things about him. His chocolate-brown hair was thick (though greasy) and clean it would probably brighten his face. The second was that he wasn’t all that bad looking, in a future-university-professor sort of way. I just bet he was majoring in political science. Charlie was wearing a pink tank top and white jeans. I thought he looked much better now that he’d been swimming out at Lake Travis and getting more sun on his face and arms. Against the pink of the tank top, his tan looked golden. I was wearing my blue and green striped polo and khakis with sandals and no socks. Since the air conditioner was not working very well, the one thing we all had in common was a sheen of sweat on our faces.
Renato was wearing black leather pants and biker boots and no shirt. Without a shirt, his chest was slicked with sweat, and I think he must have depended on the way it made his tight abs and pecks glisten. I noticed Charlie and the rest of the guys paid him lots of attention. I have to admit he was a good looking guy, especially without a shirt, and it was hard to take my eyes off him. I decided classical Spaniard or Portuguese with his red hair, blue eyes, and pale skin.
I thought we’d leave for the concert right away, as it was comi
ng on dusk. I had heard the sound of the instruments whining in the stadium on my way here, loud guitar riffs and the squawk of the sound system being tested. I was hoping this group was musically good and not just what I’d heard called acid rock, though I only knew of that kind of music from snatches I heard as I crossed campus sometimes. Loud, kind of weird screeching. So I was dismayed to see that Charlie was rolling up about a dozen joints at his desk, and Renato was cutting up something into little squares with a razor blade. I didn’t even want to know what that was, but the others watched Renato with fascination. From snatches of their comments I learned it was ‘windowpane’ LSD, blotted on paper. The very idea of that scared me to death and if anyone offered any to me I would turn it down. Marijuana was enough to change my entire mood and to twist reality a little too far, like a Salvador Dali painting, which I knew about from a book of famous paintings Lance had shown me once in high school.
So I was vaguely uneasy the way the others seemed more intent on the drugs than on the concert. When Renato had finished cutting up the windowpane into tiny squares, I was further dismayed to see that Charlie popped one on his tongue without the slightest hesitation, as did the others. Renato held out a little square on his finger. “This one’s for you, Will.”
I shook my head, kind of wishing I hadn’t even come. “No thanks. I’ve never done LSD before.”
“Aw! C’mon pretty child,” Renato teased. “It’s a smooth trip. No speed in it.”
I looked a little too long at the end of his finger, then into his captivating, ice-blue eyes, and glanced quickly away because they were teasing and mischievous, and I thought suddenly of Trevor and his meanness when he put the make on me the night of our dinner when he was supposed to be Uncle Sean’s date. I also remembered what Uncle Sean always told me, to be myself, and I didn’t think taking some head trip was me at all.
“Nope. No thanks,” I said, more forcefully. I was kind of hoping Charlie would help and I looked toward him. He was smirking as well.
All Over Him Page 11
