"Here we go…" Michael straightened up and squinted. His eyes felt gritty and he was getting a
headache from trying to stay awake, but he was finally getting somewhere. "Was Francis your first
crush, Richard?" He turned the page and skimmed through a few entries. "Come on… I want to
know…"
September 20, 1963
There's so much to do I don't even have time to update my own journal. From now on I will only make new entries
when something significant happens, or if I feel overwhelmed by things.
October 17, 1963
I can now add Benjamin Newman to my short list of friends. He's one of my producers in the movie I'm
currently filming and has taken me under his wing. He says we're kindred spirits; that we are the same. I don't
understand how, as he's almost twenty years my senior. I ask him what makes us so similar, but he doesn't answer.
He only insists we are. He even says there are many other kindred spirits, just like us, and one day he'll get a few together and introduce me. I am still confused by what he means, but Benjamin is an excellent man that I will always
defer to. It'll be a good thing to meet others like him.
"Kindred spirits, huh?" Michael chuckled and turned the page. "Is that what they called gays back
then, or was Benjamin trying to not freak you out with revelations of your own sexuality? Dude, I
really hope you don't have any graphic details here or I'm gonna puke…"
December 31, 1963
It is almost the end of what has been the busiest year of my life. As I believe that deserves a longer journal entry,
I'll write a brief summary of what is happening in my life.
I have been working day after day since the moment I landed in Los Angeles. I take acting, singing and dance
lessons. I meet new people every day and do my best to not feel overwhelmed by Hollywood's glamorous and oftentimes
over the top lifestyle. Being a boy from a small town in New Jersey, I'm afraid it gets to me more than I like to admit.
I still feel lonely the vast majority of time. I still miss my Mom's cooking, but not as much. I have learned to live
without their presence. My parents'; not Helen's. Never Helen's. Right now I need a hug from my dear sister more
than anything else. Instead I'll be attending a New Year's Eve party with perhaps hundreds of strangers and
acquaintances. I will be surrounded by alcohol, smokes and sex pots that I'm told I can have whenever I want. I'm not
interested in doing such a thing. Many think I am strange. I'm only twenty. They say any other man my age would be
taking advantage of what's so freely offered to me, but I can't. I find their strong perfume nauseating… their
shoulders too narrow… skin too pale… voices too high pitched… I know the women attending the party will be some
of the most beautiful in the world, yet I find my body does not react to them. Maybe in the future, once I have
established myself as an actor in this town, I'll start showing some interest. Right now becoming sexually active is the
least of my worries. I need to concentrate on people and events that will help advance my career. This is the only reason
why I'll attend this party tonight. I wish I could bring Francis with me as my guest, but he isn't part of this world I live in. Not to mention, I was
expected to bring a lady. I chose to go alone, of course. Fortunately for me, Benjamin will be there. He's hosting this
soiree, after all. I hope he can spare some time to be with me.
Am I happy? Absolutely. Do I wish I could just come home after work without having to interact with half the
people I do? Every single day. It is a gossip mill here. Everyone knows everybody else's affairs, and I'm a private sort.
I don't want to know what they are up to, and most certainly don't want them knowing everything I do. I keep to
myself as much as I can.
February 14, 1964
Something is happening to me. Whereas before I didn't have much interest in sex, now I find that I can't think of
anything else. My body has the most embarrassing, untimely reactions, and I don't know what to think… what to do.
I can't put a name to this disturbing thing that is happening to me, but I need to learn to control it before someone
notices.
March 21, 1964
My friendship with Francis is over. I invited him over for dinner tonight, as I always do when I can manage the
time. It soothes me to be around him. He's different. Not part of the Hollywood world. I never could've imagined how
different he really is.
He took some… liberties with me tonight. He approached me from behind while I was serving the wine and
touched me in a most inappropriate way. And when I pushed him away and demanded an explanation from him, he
said he was tired of waiting and it was time we did what we had wanted to do all this time. And he tried to kiss me.
Me! Another man! Men do not kiss other men, do they?
I have no words to describe how furious I am. How angry at his actions. To insinuate I have wanted to touch him
that way… or to have him touch me… That is not only absurd, but immoral. I asked him to leave. He would not, but I insisted. He's not welcome here anymore.
I need to look for a new place to live.
March 25, 1964
I'm losing my mind. Ever since Francis ruined our friendship I have been thinking about the things he suggested…
about the way in which he touched me. I know it's immoral, but it doesn't feel immoral when I close my eyes at night.
What is happening to me?
Michael closed the journal carefully and took a deep breath. He needed a moment after reading
that last entry. It'd been written forty-eight years ago by a man he never knew, yet he could identify
with pretty much every single word. Being away from home, doing whatever was needed in order to
achieve certain goals, the lack of interest in girls… not knowing what it meant…
He pulled Richard Bancroft's picture out of his jeans pocket and took a good look at it.
The man had been a sharp dresser. He was wearing a dark tux that had been perfectly tailored to
fit his tall and lean body. His dark blond hair was slicked back with the help of some pomade, his
blue eyes had a mischievous twinkle, and his face was flawless. Nothing in his appearance gave the
true nature of his sexuality away. At most, he would've been called a metrosexual. Then again,
Michael wasn't sure if that word was used back in the sixties.
He understood what it was like having to hide one's sexual orientation. It was a very difficult
thing being gay in the twenty-first century, so he imagined it must've been hell when Richard was
young. After reading Manny's letter to Richard, Michael knew something had scared the actor
enough to push him into getting married. He'd wanted to hide his sexuality and sacrificed Manny's
love in the process.
That's how it looked so far, anyway. Obviously, the wife had been a beard. Did she know that she was when she married one of the
most handsome and popular actors of all time, or did she come to the realization later on? That would certainly explain the bitterness... but not making up an entirely new life.
Chapter Four
"Dad, can you drop me off at the lake on your way to the doctor's office?"
Michael yawned at the same time he poured some syrup over his waffles. He was exhausted after
staying awake half the night reading and trying to figure out the best way to approach this subject
with his family when the time came. And he knew it would be soon. No way could he sit on
something so big. No frigging way.
"We're on a tight schedule, Michael," Dad said without looking up from the book he was reading.
"I don't think we can spare the extra time."
"But it's on your way to town," Michael persisted. He had stopped reading the journal entries
after the one about Richard trying to control the demands of his body. That was intimate stuff, and
it felt wrong to be reading them in his grandma's house, even though she had probably read all the
journals at some point.
"He already said no, Michael," Mom said from the kitchen area, where she was making another
pot of coffee. "Besides, must I remind you this is not a vacation? We're here to take your
grandmother to her yearly physical appointments, and after what transpired right before we left our
house, the last thing you deserve is to be entertained." Grandma Elizabeth shot him a cautious look. She had been staying away from him since they got
to her house the previous day. Michael figured that now that he was all grown and looked so much
like Richard, it must be freaking her out to look at him.
"What happened before you came here?" she asked.
"Just…kid's stuff," Mom said dismissively. "You know how they are. Nothing you need to
concern yourself with, Elizabeth."
It didn't surprise Michael that his mom chose to keep the events a secret, as she was still trying to
deal with the potential embarrassment and humiliation that Michael's behavior could have caused
her. It didn't make a difference to her that she'd found out about said behavior through a very
inappropriate phone message to her son from his partner in crime, nor that they were never caught.
She still behaved as if he had committed a capital sin, and the entire world blamed her for it.
"It wasn't as big a deal as we first thought, Susan," Dad said, still not looking up. "I understand it
would've been embarrassing had the boys been discovered, but they weren't."
Michael put his fork down and looked at his father. When he first listened to Paul's message on
their answering machine and got an earful about all the naughty things they had done to one
another, his dad hadn't been amused. Heck. If possible he'd been madder than his mom. But
apparently he'd had a change of heart at some point during their road trip from Silicon Valley to
Lake Tahoe, and that was perfectly fine with Michael.
"Just remember to be more careful in the future, son," Dad added. "I understand the urge to…
play… but there are better places than the school's library to do so. Are we clear?"
"Yes, sir."
Michael didn't know what else to say, as this sudden display of support had taken him completely
by surprise. The last thing he had expected was for his parents to be cool with his choice of games,
especially his choice of partners. Although he had never officially come out to them, he hadn't bothered to hide anything either. Michael wasn't flamboyant, but he was obviously gay. To have his
parents not make a big deal out of it was totally awesome.
"I think you should drop the boy off by the lake, Richard. I told you this yesterday." He heard
Grandma Elizabeth say. "He's probably bored out of his mind in this house. There's nothing to do."
Michael took a sip of his orange juice and tried not to snicker at his grandma's words. She didn't
want him alone in her house. Was probably afraid he'd go treasure hunting again, just like when he
was nine. Well, too late to be worrying about that.
"He'll be fine," Mom said, joining them at the table. "He's grounded, you understand."
Grandma Elizabeth insisted. "Can't he be grounded at the lake?" Michael would've laughed if her
efforts hadn't been so insultingly obvious.
"Don't worry about me, Grandma. I'm just going to grab a book and go into the woods. Find a
nice place to rest and read, you know?" He put a piece of waffle in his mouth and chewed on it
slowly, as if he didn't have a care in the world. "Dad, how come you never talk about Grandpa
George? Being here made me realize I don't know anything about him."
Grandma Elizabeth choked on her coffee.
"I don't know anything about him either." Dad said, reluctantly looking up from his book.
Michael wasn't surprised to see he was reading R.B. Lewis again. His father taught English Lit at
Stanford and could be a snob when it came to reading material, but he was also a huge fan of Lewis'
psychological thrillers. Michael's mother teased him all the time and said his dad was R.B. Lewis'
biggest groupie. He'd met the author in person when he was about to start college, and somehow
he'd become friends with the older man. They had kept in touch throughout the years, visiting
whenever possible and writing and e-mailing one another when it was not.
His dad had gotten him into Lewis' books too, and now the guy was a family friend. His mom
adored him; his father did too, and even Michael had jumped on the bandwagon at some point. R.B. was smart and funny, and pretty rad for an older dude. Not to mention, he always gave Michael
awesome presents. Plus, he wrote the best books like, ever.
Michael had a great time when they brought him along for dinner or golf. Going to the movies
with him and his dad whenever one of Lewis' books was made into a film had become sort of a
tradition and one of Michael's favorite things to do.
"You need to read this one," Dad told him. "It has to be one of his best. I'll pass it on to you
when I'm done."
"Thanks, Dad." Michael smiled. "Can we talk about Grandpa George now?"
"He passed away when I was a toddler. I don't remember him at all." Dad glanced at his mother
as he drank his coffee. "Whenever I asked about him, Mom refused to give me any details. She said
it was too painful to talk about him."
"But that was years ago," Mom said. "Aren't you over it by now, Elizabeth?"
