by Noah Harris
Richard shrugged, wiping his eyes. “They’re OK. No, that’s not fair. They’ve always loved me and wanted the best for me, but they’re so small town. They’ve never understood why I wanted to leave Chillicothe. Grandpa was the one urging me to leave.”
“You said you thought he might have been gay.”
Richard shook his head. “Nah, I was fooling myself. He was just someone who cared about me and knew I was too big for that small town. Maybe he realized I was queer, I don’t know, but he did know I’d never fit in. I think he regretted not getting out of Chillicothe himself. Like all the guys who came back from the war, he’d seen a lot of the world and didn’t have as much of a small town mentality as he did before, but he never broke out of it completely. He didn’t want me to make the same mistake.”
“But those comments he made. You know, about not being true to yourself and how he hadn’t been fair to your grandmama before she passed?”
“I was reading that wrong. Just wanting to find someone in my family who understood the real me. I shouldn’t disrespect his memory like that.”
Richard could feel Tyrone tense and realized he had said the wrong thing. After a time, Richard said.
“I have to go to the funeral. Dad says it’s next Tuesday.”
“You gonna fly?”
Richard shook his head. “The closest I could get would be Kansas City and they’d still have to drive down and pick me up. I’ll take my pickup. I need to get out of town for a while anyway. The drive will do me good. Clear my head.”
Suddenly, Richard had an idea. He sat upright and put a hand on Tyrone’s cheek.
“Do you want to come?”
Tyrone cocked his head. “Me? Go to Missouri?”
“You need to get out of town too. A few days away will help us figure out what to do. Plus…I want you to come.”
Tyrone didn’t look convinced. “Country, I don’t think your hick town is gonna welcome me with open arms, you dig?”
Richard sighed. “I know. It’s just that…I’m going to go back there and have to tell all sorts of lies about my life here. It feels like I’m betraying my grandfather. He was the one who pushed me to get out of town and be myself. I can’t go to his funeral and pretend to be someone else.”
Tyrone looked shocked. “You’re gonna come out at your granddad’s funeral?”
“No, of course not! I can never do that. It would break my mother’s heart and dad would probably disown me. No, but I can show them a little of what I am. If I can’t show them my boyfriend, I can show them my best friend, because you’re that too.”
Tyrone considered it for a moment. “Go to some redneck town or take my chances here with the demon worshippers. That’s a hell of a choice you’re giving me, Country.”
“You’ll be alright if you’re with me.”
“I ain’t gonna bet on that. Where will I stay?”
“At our house.”
“Your parents will be cool with that?”
Richard frowned. “They’ll just have to be.”
Tyrone thought for a moment, then stroked Richard’s hair tenderly. “You the only person I’d do this for, Country.”
“I love you,” Richard smiled and gave him a kiss. To think there had been a time when he felt uncomfortable kissing him. What an idiot he’d been!
“I love you too, and this proves it,” Tyrone replied.
Richard pinched his cheek. “Aw, you just want to get away from Georgios for a while.”
Tyrone grinned. “We’re gonna dump him on Adam and Steve?”
Richard gave him a sly look. “Yeah. There’s no room for him in the pickup anyway.”
“You’re a cruel man, Richard. You’re gonna owe them a hell of a lot of dinners. Now go call your folks while I clear the Georgios thing with the guys. And tell your family you’re bringing a brother home. I don’t want there to be any surprises on the front porch.”
Sitting in Adam and Steve’s bedroom he made the call, his heart pounding just as hard as if he were face to face with a dozen demons.
When his mother picked up the phone and not his father he relaxed a little. Mom would probably not understand, but Dad definitely wouldn’t.
“Hi mom, it’s me again. I’ll be driving up for the funeral. If I leave tomorrow I can be there by Sunday night.”
“I’m so glad you can make it. I know how much your grandfather meant to you. And you meant a lot to him. He so enjoyed getting your postcards from the city.”
Richard’s eyes filled. “Yeah. I’m glad he did. Now mom, I wanted to ask you something. You see I have a friend here, my best friend, and he’s got family in Kansas City. He wants to see them and is willing to pay for the gas. That would really help me out. I was thinking of showing him Chillicothe and then after the funeral we’d drive down to Kansas City and see his folks.”
“Oh that’s fine. He can stay with us.”
“He’ll stay out of the way for the funeral and everything. He won’t be any trouble at all.”
“That’s quite all right, Richard. It would be nice to meet one of your New York friends. Everyone is so curious about your life there.”
“Well, um, yeah. He’s a really nice guy. He helped me a lot when I first got here.”
“We’ll be happy to have him. We have that old Army cot in the attic. We can put it in your room.”
Yeah, I guess we won’t be sharing the bed.
“That’s great mom, thanks. It’s just that, um, there’s something you should know.” Richard tensed.
“What’s that?”
“You see, Tyrone is a, um, well he’s a Negro.”
Negro? You’re talking like a Missouri boy again!
“I beg your pardon?” His mother’s voice went up a notch.
“He’s black.”
Long pause.
“Well any friend of yours is welcome here, Richard.”
His mother’s voice carried that same note of unspoken disapproval as when Richard had told her he was moving to New York City, or the time he told her he was going stag to the senior prom, or any of the other times he did something unacceptable to small-town mores.
“Great! See you soon. Love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, Richard. I hope everything's all right there in New York.”
Richard hung up. Had that been suspicion in her voice?
The next day they were driving down the highway in Richard’s ’72 Ford pickup, a gift from Grandpa on his sixteenth birthday. It used to be his before the cancer stopped him from using it.
Richard smiled sadly. It had been Grandpa’s last gift to him, and it had been what had transported him to New York City and his new life.
Now, he was using it to go right back where he came from.
“We’ll only stay a couple of days,” Richard said.
“We can stay as long as you need, Country.”
“I told them you have relatives in Kansas City. We’re supposed to see them after Chillicothe.”
“Me? I’m supposed to have country cousins in Kansas?” Tyrone said and laughed. “Shit, Richard, you are one bad liar!”
“Actually, there is a Kansas City in Missouri also.”
“Why do they call it Kansas City then?”
“Because it’s on the Kansas River.”
“Which is what, in Missouri? So why don’t they call it the Missouri River?”
“There already is a Missouri River. Didn’t you get geography at school?”
“You ever seen a public school in the hood? They didn’t teach me shit. Half the time the teachers didn’t even show up. Hell, we didn’t have a gym for two whole years because the roof caved in and there wasn’t any money to fix it. The city doesn’t give a damn about kids in my part of town.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“It’s all good, Country. You don’t have to apologize for what other white people do. Just be cool and that’s good enough.”
“It’s just not fair, though. I mean, Chillicothe isn’t e
xactly a rich town but our school was pretty good.”
“Lots of things ain’t fair, Country. You and I both get shit for being gay.”
“True enough,” Richard grumbled. He glanced at his boyfriend. Tyrone had stowed away all his flashy clothes and had brought along only jeans and plain t-shirts. He had even taken the black power hair pick out of his Afro. He obviously didn’t want anyone in Richard’s hometown to suspect he was gay or even hip.
Richard ground his teeth. He hated seeing people hide their true selves. He hated having to do it himself even more.
His boyfriend didn’t seem to mind. He had the window rolled down, his arm on the sill, smiling as the breeze blew on his face. They were passing through western Pennsylvania, speeding through undulating, open countryside. Red farmhouses flashed by, pastures full of cows and tall fields of grain too. While it was a warm, sunny summer’s day, it felt noticeably cooler and less humid than the city.
Tyrone took a deep breath of air.
“Better than the Bronx?” Richard asked.
“Shit, Country, anything’s better than the Bronx. If it weren’t for my momma, I’d have left that shithole years ago.”
“Once we get some money we should get her a decent place, then get ourselves one, and move in together like we planned.”
“Yeah, I haven’t forgotten. It’s the bread that’s stopping us.”
“When’s the last time you were in the country?”
“Didn’t I fuck you a couple of nights ago? Oh wait, you mean this country! Hell, if you don’t count that Circle Line trip we took out into the harbor then I guess it would be high school. Did a Fresh Air Fund trip when I was fourteen.”
“Fresh Air Fund, that’s some charity, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, rub it in, white boy. It’s an organization that sends poor kids out to the boondocks to live with white folks for a couple of weeks in the summer. Supposed to civilize us and make the white folks feel good about themselves.”
“Hey, at least they let you stay at their house. Where did you go?”
“Place called Mt. Kisco up on the Metro North line about an hour north of the city.”
“Was it nice?”
“Was it? Shit! This family had four acres of land all for themselves. Most of it was woods except for about an acre of the greenest lawn you’ve ever seen and a big bed of flowers along the front of the house. The old lady of the house made me mow that lawn and tend those flowers every day I was there.”
“Got some free labor out of her charity, huh?”
“Locked up the silverware too.”
“Oh come on!” Richard said with a laugh.
“I ain’t jiving you. She had it locked up in one of the cupboards and never opened it while I was there.”
“Then how do you know what was in there?”
“I broke into it one night.”
Richard glanced at Tyrone and saw he was serious. They both burst out laughing.
“Did you steal any?” Richard asked as he passed a tractor and got back in his lane.
“Oh, thinking the black man gonna steal anything he got his hands on, yeah? I didn’t steal shit. I was just curious to see what was in there.”
“Sorry,” Richard said, suddenly embarrassed.
Tyrone nudged him. “Did steal the old man’s porno, though.”
“What were you going to do with a bunch of titty mags? You told me by that age you already knew about yourself.”
“Oh, these were real hardcore stuff. Up close and personal. I wasn’t looking at the pussies, I was looking at the dicks going into them.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Says the man who took a hundred guys’ cum in the Hole in One.”
Richard bit his lip. “I went a bit too far with that one, didn’t I?”
“It’s all right. Wow!” Tyrone said as he spotted a couple of women riding horses through a field. “Damn, are we in a western movie or something? Anyway, you were just finding your way. I got a bit crazy in my early days too. Used to go to the toilets.”
“Eeew.”
“Hey, I didn’t have no bread to go to the peep shows or the porn booths. The toilets were free. And being black, no one messed with you. Lots of cats get mugged in toilets, but not me. Sometimes it was hard to score though, because they thought I might be doing the mugging.”
“How is that scene?” Richard asked, feeling a tingling in his pants. Any new experience always got him hot.
“Skip it, Country, it’s even worse than the theaters. Sure, you can get laid, but there’s lots of old trolls, and weirdos, and druggies. And of course undercover cops. Nearly got arrested one night.”
“Really? What happened?”
“Shit, I never told you this story? Aw man, it’s embarrassing.”
“That’s probably why you never told me. Come on, think of all the things I’ve done. I’m not going to judge.”
“Oh all right, but don’t tell anyone, you dig? I have my reputation to maintain.”
“Says the drug dealer.”
“You take more drugs than my best customers.”
“Touché.”
“So when I was a young cat, only eighteen like you are now, I was pretty green.”
“Come on, that was only four years ago. You’re making it sound like you’re an old man.”
“Think how much you been through in the past two months and stretch it out to four years. You’d feel like an old man too. So like I said, I was as green as I was black, and that’s a dangerous combination of colors when you’re cruising the toilets.”
“I can imagine.”
“No you can’t, and I’m glad. So anyway, one day I go into the toilets at Port Authority Bus Terminal.”
“Really? That place is a dump.”
“Like I said, I wasn’t too picky back then. I was just a horny, clueless motherfucker like you were a few months back.”
“Har har.”
“So like I usually do, I play it cool. Just strolled into the john like I was gonna do my business. As you said, it’s pretty nasty in there. Lots of graffiti and busted toilet doors. Stank too, because of a couple of backed up toilets. So I check the place out. There’s a row of urinals to my left and a row of stalls to my right, plus some sinks right next to the door. A couple of white dudes are taking a leak at the urinals and I could tell right away that neither of them were players. One was a businessman type who was looking at his watch while he was peeing. Probably emptying out his last martini before heading out on an upstate bus. The other guy just sort of stared at the wall. Never looked around like they do when they’re on the prowl. Plus they’re spaced far apart, not next to one another checking each other out.
“I don’t see no one else at first. So I head for the furthest urinal, taking it slow and passing all the stalls as I do. I can see right away that one is open for business, because there’s a dude in there and as soon as I pass he taps his foot, just a little tap. Soft enough that you probably wouldn’t hear nothing if you didn’t know what to listen for. So I see my chance right away, but these two straight dudes are getting in the way of my play, you dig?
“It ain’t no thang. I know the cat in the stall ain’t going to leave any time soon. Some take over a stall and stay for hours. So I keep going until I’m at the back of the bathroom, the urinal furthest from the door. I whip out my dick and pretend I’m taking a piss, waiting for them other dudes to leave. In the meantime, I check out all the numbers written on the wall. You know, ‘eager bottom call 555-1919’ or ‘Mondays 1pm, I do anything’.
“Pretty soon both guys leave, one right after the other, and I’m about to zip up and go check out the cat in the stall. I clear my throat to tell him I’m still there, and sure enough I hear the lock to the stall click open, but no one comes out.
“So now I got this guy for sure. But before I can make a move, another dude comes in. This guy’s Latino, a bit old and hefty for me but like I said I was young and horny and didn’t really g
et picky. Beggars can’t be choosers and anyone cruising the toilets at the Port Authority is a beggar, you dig?
“Right away I get weird vibes from this guy. First thing he does when he comes through the door is look right at me. Like right at me, eye contact and everything. He was carrying a paper supermarket bag and he waggled it a bit as he walked in. I thought that was kinda strange.”
“Was that a signal or something?” Richard asked.
“You’ll see. So this guy goes straight to the back of the bathroom, like right behind me, and goes into a stall. So I’m like, alright, this guy is either hornier than I am or the worst cop in the world. I decide to play it cool. I just stand there pretending I’m still doing my business.”
“After all that time? Everyone must have thought you had a prostate problem.”
“The way cats hang around the toilets in Port Authority, you’d think every man who took the bus had a prostate problem. So after a minute I look over my shoulder and he’s in the stall. The door is open a crack, and I see that now there are two supermarket bags on the floor instead of just one.”
“Huh?”
“That was what I said. Being the curious, academic sort I decide to make a scientific investigation. I move over to the stall and scuff my shoe on the floor as a signal, and right away he opens the door a crack as an invitation.
“Now things are getting interesting. I tell you, Country, when you’re a young blood there’s nothing like the thrill of the toilets. Yeah, it’s low class, but it’s exciting. It’s cat and mouse with the police and the bashers. Plus when you get away clean you feel this sense of victory, like when you just made a killer slam dunk on the courts. So anyway, I sorta peek in and he’s sitting there with his pants around his ankles and his meat in his hand. The supermarket bags are taking up most of the rest of the stall. The one to the side has groceries in it, but the one right in front of him is empty.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Neither did I until he pointed to it and told me to step inside.”
“Oh, so your feet wouldn’t be visible under the partition.”
“Now you’re catching on. Pretty clever, huh? Cops are always looking for two pairs of feet under the stalls. Usually one person squats on the bowl, but this paper bag trick was much more comfortable. So I close the door behind me and step into the bag. ‘Let me suck you’ he says, and I’m sure up for that. Back in highschool I used to go with the ladies to cover my rep, you know? I’d get them to suck my dick and I’d lie back with my eyes closed fantasizing about dudes.”
