“I’m glad we’re friends again, Henry,” he says, close to my ear.
I smile, kissing his cheek. I suppose hard, intense sex, followed by a dreamy, sticky night in each other’s arms, would tend to smooth over whatever hostilities had existed between us. As soon as the sun was up, I’d slipped upstairs, not wanting to be discovered in Luke’s room by Lloyd. But not before we made love again, this time going more slowly, savoring every moment. I kissed his neck, he licked my nipples. He buried his face in my armpits, I made slurping noises on his tight, flat stomach. And I fucked him again, gentler this time, but with just as shattering a climax.
Once more I close my eyes and rest my face in his sweet, sweet hair.
I’m not sure what I’m going to tell Lloyd. What makes it even more difficult is that I’m not sure what’s going on between Luke and me. We’ve had wonderful sex—but exchanged precious few words. So I’m left wondering how he really feels about me. He called us “friends.” Is that what we are? Friends who have sex? Or might it be more? Might he share these feelings I’m having, this rush of emotion that makes he want to sit here all day, just holding him in my arms? Have I imagined all of Luke’s manipulation, exaggerated his obsession with Jeff? All I know for sure right now is that it feels awfully good sitting so close to him.
“So,” Luke says, “you said we needed to talk.”
“Yeah,” I agree, but I voice nothing more.
He turns his face so he can look me straight in the eyes. “I meant it when I said I’ll quit the job,” he tells me, “if that’s what will allow us to continue seeing each other.”
I try to see the truth of his feelings in his eyes. “Is that what you really want? To see me on a regular basis?”
Luke smiles. “Why is that so hard for you to believe?”
“Luke, it’s been obvious that your interest is in Jeff.”
He stiffens. “That was not his Speedo, Henry! We just have the same suit. That’s why I was staring at him yesterday. I thought I had an original.” He looks at me as if I don’t believe him. “Go over and look on his deck and you’ll see. I was over there this morning, and his Speedo is sitting there. Mine is put away in my drawer.”
I sigh. Of course, Luke could have gone next door and replaced the bathing suit on the chaise lounge this morning just to cover his tracks. But maybe he’s telling the truth. I just don’t know anymore.
But I do know the sex with him was awesome. And I just can’t seem to keep from kissing him. Never has a boy tasted quite this sweet.
I pull back gently to look into his eyes, keeping my arms tightly around him.
“Luke,” I say, “I have a confession to make.”
“Oh?”
“I read some of your writing.” I wait for him to react, but he doesn’t. He just keeps looking at me with those mysterious eyes of his. “The stuff you threw in the dumpster. One binder had fallen on the ground and I picked it up, intending to throw it away, but I…”
“But you took it back into the house,” he says. “You read my work without my permission.”
I feel terrible. “I’m sorry.”
Luke only smiles. “It’s okay, Henry. What part did you read?”
“I’m not sure. Seemed like it was a short story, or maybe two short stories…”
“Well, what was it about?”
I look at him. “Well, you titled it ‘Darryl’s Story.’”
“Oh, that. What did you think?”
I’m not sure what to say. “Well, it was disturbing.”
“Good. I wanted it to be.”
“You succeeded.”
He smiles. “But did you think the writing was good?”
“I can’t judge,” I tell him.
He pouts. “You hated it. Just like Jeff.”
“No, no, no. It fascinated me. It…” My voice trails off until I can find what I want to say. “It made me want to know who you really are.”
“So you did like it.”
I shrug. “Like it? I’m not sure. All I know is that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” I look intently at him. “Or you.”
Several seagulls screech in their amazingly human-like voices. They land not far from us in the water, batting their wings angrily.
“Well, I’m glad I got you hooked, Henry,” Luke says, suddenly energized. “That’s what a writer hopes to be able to do.”
I shake my head. “But is it true, Luke?”
He smirks. “Jeff usually answers that question with a line about his work being emotionally true, if not always literally true.”
“But much of what Jeff writes is literally true.”
He nods. “Exactly.”
I sigh. “You’re a mystery, Luke.”
He makes a little laugh sound in his throat. “I don’t know why you think that. I’ve told you far more stories of my life than you’ve ever told me about yours.”
“Well, that’s just it, Luke. They all sound like stories. What you write, what you say…I’m never sure what’s the truth. What’s real. What isn’t.”
He grunts. “So you’re saying you don’t believe what I’ve told you about my life?”
“I’m saying what you’ve shared so far doesn’t always seem to add up.” I sigh. “Your stories read as if they’re about this person you say was your lover, this Darryl, but part of me thinks they’re really about you.” I look at him and raise my eyebrows. “Maybe I’m just suspicious by nature.”
“Well, answer me this, Henry,” he says. “Do you at least believe that I like you?”
I start to reply, but find I don’t have the words. Why is it so hard for me to believe that this attractive young guy wants to be with me?
Maybe because I grew up never believing anyone would ever want to be with me. “Henry,” my mother would say. “You need to be more manly. You should be out playing baseball. No girl wants to date a sissy boy.”
And then, in high school and college, I was always the pencil-necked geek, my yearbook pictures still embarrassing to look at. No wonder Jack never looked at me that way. My shirt never fit quite right; my hair was always too long or too short.
Then, when I came out as gay and started trying to find my way in the gay world, I immediately felt out of place in the world of the Body Beautiful at the clubs. Only when I met Jeff did I start to improve my body and my wardrobe—but then I always had my mentor to compete with, and when one competes with Jeff O’Brien, the outcome is always predetermined.
Except maybe this time it’s different. Maybe—just maybe—Luke is telling me the truth. It really is me he likes. Not Jeff.
“Okay,” Luke says, almost as if he’s psychic, “I’ll admit to you that I’ve been very attentive to Jeff. Maybe even ass-kissing a bit. But it wasn’t because I wanted him, Henry. It was because I hoped he’d help me with my novel.”
“Well, that’s been very obvious. Even to him.” I narrow my eyes. “But I suspect it was a bit more as well…”
“No! It was all about Jeff reading my work.” He pouts. “Well, that was a big mistake. He just cut me right down.”
“I think you might be over-reacting…”
Luke leans his head on my shoulder, not listening. “But you think I have talent, don’t you, Henry?”
“Sure…”
“So do you think maybe Jeff’s afraid of a little competition?” Luke laughs, and the sound unnerves me a little. “Especially from someone younger, with more years ahead of him?”
I look over at the top of Luke’s dark blond head. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what Jeff said about your work?”
“It wasn’t what he said, but how he said it.” Luke sits up, immediately assuming an impression of Jeff, all chin and attitude. “‘You’ve got a ways to go,’” he says, mimicking Jeff quite well. “‘Don’t be arrogant and think your first draft is all it will take.’” The kid sniffs in indignation. “Arrogant! Who’s he calling arrogant? Maybe he ought to look in the mirror!”
I’m
amazed at how quickly Luke has turned on his idol. It’s a little chilling, in fact. From soft and warm he’s suddenly hard and defensive. I feel myself tense. I actually pull back a bit from him.
“Well,” I offer, “criticism is supposed to be tough or it isn’t helpful. You didn’t just want him to say ‘Great job’ and not mean it, did you?”
Luke is indignant. “My writing professor thought it was brilliant! She thought it was publishable just as it was!”
I make a face. “But has she published anything? Jeff has, remember.”
Luke scowls. How dark his face seems now. Gone is the light that had drawn me just moments earlier.
“I’m glad you read my work, Henry,” he says. “Because it shows some people appreciate what I’m trying to do. I’m not writing bland, boring commercial shit like Jeff.”
“But I thought you said Jeff’s work was—”
“Authors like Jeff are afraid of the new generation,” Luke says loudly, cutting me off. “We see things differently than they do. We say it a new, fresh, exciting way. We’ve had a different experience of being gay and they’re afraid we’re going to put them out of business.”
“Luke, I don’t think Jeff feels—”
“But you found my work fascinating. You said you can’t stop thinking about it.” He beams. “That proves I’m on the right track. So I’m going ahead with it! Full speed ahead!”
I sigh. “Well, I’m glad you’re not discouraged any more.” I give him a small smile. “But you threw all your work away.”
He tosses a hand at me. “That was just my hard copies. All my work is still on my computer. Did you really think I’d be that stupid? Maybe Jeff has no faith in me, but I know you do, Henry.”
Do I? I say nothing.
Luke doesn’t appear to notice. “Just watch. My novel is going to be huge. I’ll show Mr. Jeffrey Fucking Arrogant O’Brien.”
I don’t like the sound of that. I don’t like the way this conversation has gone at all, in fact. “Really, Luke,” I tell him, “I don’t think Jeff meant to discourage you.”
“Oh, yes, he did. He wants to wipe out all the competition. But he’ll see. I’m not going to give up!”
Suddenly sitting so close to him doesn’t feel so good anymore. Luke seems edgy, even dangerous, where just moments ago he was soft and comforting.
But he seems unaware of my change in feelings. “If you believe in me, Henry,” he says, “that’s enough.” He kisses me, lots of tongue. I try to kiss him back, but he just doesn’t taste as sweet as before. When he pulls back, he looks directly into my eyes and asks, “Shall I go back now and give Lloyd my resignation?”
“No.” I need to think this through. This is all happening very fast, and now I’m very confused. “Let me talk to Lloyd,” I say. “He should hear what happened between us from me.”
“Okay,” Luke says, slipping his arm back around me and returning his head to my shoulder.
We sit there for a few minutes in silence, watching the gulls circle overhead and listening as the water trickles between the rocks. The tide is moving inexorably back in toward shore. In the distance there’s the low steady foghorn, warning ships not to come too close to this place.
“Hey, Luke,” I say, my mouth in his hair.
“What?”
“Do you ever listen to Alice in Chains?”
“Alice in what?”
“Never mind.”
My bruised thigh is starting to ache from sitting in one position. I suggest we head back to the guesthouse. I assure Luke that I’ll handle things with Lloyd. We walk back through town holding hands. But when we get to the guesthouse, I can’t find Lloyd anywhere, though Jeff is once again pruning the rosebushes. I send Luke inside and head out to talk with Jeff.
“Where’s Lloyd?” I ask.
Jeff lowers the shears. I can see he’s concerned. “He went on a drive with J. R. and Ann Marie. I don’t know when they’ll be back.”
“Is everything okay?”
“No, actually, it’s not.” Jeff resumes deadheading the faded blossoms. “Ann Marie’s very worried about J. R. Whatever is bothering that kid, Lloyd is hoping to get to the bottom of it.”
“Why didn’t you go with them?”
Jeff turns to look at me. He’s near tears. “Because for whatever reason, I seem to be the root of J. R.’s discontent. He’s distant to Lloyd, too, but it’s me with whom he seems to have the real issue.”
“Why you?”
“Who knows? Because I make him do his homework? Because I won’t let him go into Internet chat rooms?”
I sigh. My problems are going to have to wait. This conversation is long overdue.
“No,” I tell Jeff. “It’s not because of any of those things. It’s because you’re gay.”
Jeff looks at me as if I’m crazy. “What?”
My self-absorption these past couple of weeks embarrasses me all of a sudden. “You know, I’ve been wanting to talk with you about all this, but so many other things keep getting in the way.”
“So tell me now.”
I pause, glancing up at the window above us. Sure enough, I sense movement behind the curtains. Is Luke there, eavesdropping? “Come on,” I say to Jeff, taking his arm. “Let’s go over to your house.”
Inside Jeff’s living room, where privacy is assured, I sit him down on the couch and position myself in the chair opposite him. Mr. Tompkins, Jeff’s big old fat cat, jumps up to cuddle in his lap.
“What’s going on, Henry?” Jeff asks.
I take a deep breath. “About a week ago, I had a chat with J. R. It was short, but I think I got some insight into what’s bugging him.”
“And you didn’t immediately tell me?”
“I’m sorry, Jeff. I admit I’ve been too self-obsessed lately.”
He sighs. “Just tell me.”
“Well, it’s hard to put it in words. J. R. was very worried about the newspaper taking a picture of the wedding and him being in it.”
“That makes no sense at all.”
“It kind of does. You see, I think the reason he doesn’t want to play basketball this year is because kids on other teams call the Provincetown players—”
“Faggots,” Jeff says, finishing my thought. “Yes, I know. Ann Marie finally told us. And I’ve called the principal of that other school and told him that I expect a full investigation—”
“See, Jeff, I think that’s what J. R. worries about. That somehow he’s going to be thrust into the spotlight about some gay issue, and consequently everyone is going to think he’s gay.”
“For God’s sake, he’s nine years old!”
“And that’s how a nine-year-old thinks.”
Jeff shakes his head. “Why is he suddenly thinking being gay is something he has to defend against? We raised him to understand diversity, and the Provincetown school system has lots of kids who have gay and lesbian parents!”
“Yes, but they still run up against the real world from time to time, and it can be tough on a kid.”
Jeff runs his hands over his face. “I know this is part of it, but it’s not the whole thing. Something else is going on with J. R., something that goes even deeper than this. That’s what Lloyd is trying to find out. He thinks J. R. needs to talk with a counselor, but he wants to try to understand the situation better himself first so we know what we’re dealing with.”
“I know this is hard on you, Jeff.”
He shakes his head. “The hell with me. It’s hard on J. R. Whatever it is.”
I nod in agreement. “So you don’t know when they will be back?”
“No. They took a drive down to Chatham and might take the boat out to Monomoy if they can get J. R.’s spirits up.”
“J. R. loves going out on the boat.”
“Well, he used to.”
I reach over and touch Jeff’s knee. “You’ll get to the bottom of this. I know you will.”
“What makes you so sure? What problems have you gotten to the bot
tom of lately, Henry?”
I frown. “That’s not fair.”
“I’m sorry.”
Suddenly all I want is to be alone in my room. “Look, would you have Lloyd call me when he gets back? I need to talk with him about something.”
William J. Mann Page 27
