How Long Has This Been Going On (59 page)

"Walt, what are you going to do if you meet someone you really like and he wants to take you home? A poor first night can close a good show."

"Yes, but isn't it really Tom you should be working with? At least I know what I am. But he's, like, this big mystery cousin. He's two shows at once."

"Do you know why Tom sent you to me?"

"Do you?"

Win smiled. "Let's try something so tame even you won't mind it. I'll even keep my pants on for this, okay?"

Taking off his shoes, Win lay on the bed faceup.

"Now, you get your shoes off, too. Okay. I want you to pretend that you've just come down the hall and looked in this room and seen a man lying on the bed, asleep. I'm the man."

"Whose house is this?"

"Any house. Now, think—who is the man you'd most like to see lying like that? Someone you know? A movie actor? A stranger you saw somewhere one day? A figure you've imagined? Anyone you want—asleep, unthreatening, just quietly lying here, Walt. Who is the man?"

"Uncle Gustav."

"Why Uncle Gustav?"

"Because he once found me biting my nails and slapped me, and now that he's asleep I'm going to pour an entire jar of Bosco on him and—"

"No, Walt. This man is someone you like. Someone you want to be very close to. Lie down with."

"But then what?"

"You tell me."

Walt thought it over, but "Hmm" was all he said.

Win waited him out.

"I don't know who it should be," Walt finally added. "Except maybe Cousin Tom, because I'm getting kind of used to him by now."

"Okay. I'm Tom, asleep. You come in..."

"Yes."

"And you..." "What?"

"You tell me."

"I do a funny dance?"

Win sighed. "Walt, Walt, Walt."

"All right. I lie down beside him. Is that the right answer?" "It'll do for now.... Well, come on."

Walt lay next to Win, saying, "I should have Claude with me now to sit between us, only Cousin Tom hid him and he won't say where."

"Okay, you're lying next to Tom, and I'm asleep. Now what?—and, Walt, please play along with me for once."

"I put my arms around you and rest my head on your chest." "Do it."

Walt did, and the two of them lay so for many minutes, listening to each other's breathing. Walt occasionally shifted position. Win never moved.

"This is nice," Walt admitted. "Now, don't say anything, because you're asleep."

Another minute, then Walt added, "But in your sleep you kind of turn this way and hold me a little, and then you say, 'I love you, Walt.'"

Judith made a second list, headed, "What Does a Woman Want from a Man?":

1. To be admired

2. Of course to be loved

3. To be protected, not controlled

Then, impulsively, Judith drew lines through these citations and wrote:

1. To be mystified

2. To be flattered

3. To be comprehended

No, she thought, I'm being too creative. What a woman wants from a man is her father. A commanding presence, intimately involved yet remote—respectful, really, if you think about it—and inspiringly powerful without being dangerous. Tom is like Judith's father, perhaps: humorous, though he never says anything funny; and very tolerant; and often distracted, except when on the job. Judith spent a weekday afternoon with Tom once, just for the heck of it, and she was impressed by how keenly he attended to detail, examining the finish of a built-in breakfront as if it were the rarest ivory, or heeding a subcontractor's report as a police detective takes a suspect's confession. Judith thought, He's never like that on a date.

Yet he was a wonderful lover. With other men, Judith had the feeling that their lovemaking was exactly the same with every woman they bedded. That must be wrong, she thought, because every woman is different, and the right man would not contain but—surely—
investigate
his partners. One of the problems with men is that they're the ones with the penis. Now, Tom was not only attentive to Judith but a constant surprise. He liked to hear her gasp, and he smiled at the oddest times. He would seek her out,
learn
her. Sometimes, as they made love, he was silent, and at other times he would tease her with lurid patter. "Here and there you'll hear me hum when I'm about to make it," he told her; but he never hummed. He was a box of riddles, which was no doubt why he fascinated women: because when the riddles weren't pestering you, he was kind and fair and strong.

Ask Tom
what?

Win and Walt followed the fantasy session with some more massage practice and a shower. Then Win lectured Walt on anal intercourse, during which Walt occasionally held his hands to his ears and sang, to drown Win out.

Win said, "Walt, I just want you to know about this. I'm not advocating it or—"

"No, I can see it's like hunting, where you pin your victim down and shoot."

"No, Walt. That's rape."

"So you're saying that I could be a full-fledged member of gay society and never be fucked?"

"Walt, that's exactly what I've been—"

"That's keen news for Claude, because he
really
hates it."

"Maybe he had a bad experience," said Win, very gently, meaningfully.

"He did," said Walt, as gently and meaningfully as Win. "He went out with Winnie-the-Pooh. And I guess you've heard he likes it rough."

Win laughed, shaking his head, mock-rueful. "Walt, you're relentless. Where did you hear about rough, anyway?"

"Danny told me."

"Okay, Walt, you come here to me now."

"Why?"

"So I can give you a good, solid hug."

"But don't stick your tongue in my ear, okay?"

Win held Walt for a long time, and Walt held tight back, because in his desperately facetious way he was in fact looking for something that he felt unable to connect with: someone who would show him what he wanted from sex. "Why am I here?" Walt would ask Win, over and over. He asked it now, and now Win answered him: "Tom is using you to get to me.

Shocked, Walt broke the embrace.

"No, that's okay," Win went on. "Because, ashamed as I deserve to be to have to admit it, I'm using you to get to Tom."

I'm in the seaweed for sure, Tom thought, beating off to a vision of Win. A crowded vision—Win and Luke and Walt and the guy at the sandwich place and a whole lot of men Tom had seen shirtless on television, and the doings were racy, copious, thoughtcrime. Tom actually passed out—or dozed off—in the living room, a blanket pulled tight around himself, to ward off the devils.

Boys and girls, you can't. You are what you want.

Walt came down then. He had got up to pee and saw a light on, grabbed a blanket, and wandered downstairs. Tom was asleep on the couch, faceup, naked, for he had been tossing about and his defenses had slipped. Walt gazed upon his cousin for a while, letting his eyes rove and rove as he would never have dared do if Tom had been awake. Walt tried to figure out if Win's therapy had prepared him to take a step or two at this moment. Win was always coaching Walt to decide on that fundamental concept in the gay identity, What You Like To Do. But they had never covered What You Are Permitted To Do With Your Cousin.

Walt sat cross-legged on the floor, now staring up at Tom. I'm not good at this, he thought, but he laid a hand on Tom's stomach, gently rubbed the flesh a bit, took his hand away, watched to see what Tom would do.

Tom was still.

Walt moved over a bit and rubbed Tom's thigh and calf. Walt wondered if he should become a foot fetishist, because you could get away with doing very little yet no one would chide you. He pictured himself lying with Tom, each one's head at the other's foot, simultaneously sucking on each other's toes. That might be nice.

"What's up, slugger?" said Tom, slowly pulling himself up, his hair a chaos and his eyes half-closed. He looked wonderful.

"Aren't you cold?" asked Walt.

"Come up and sit with me. Talk to me."

Big Tom hefted Walt into his lap, blanket and all, pulling his own blanket around them.

"What did you learn in school today?"

"Do you like Win, Tom?"

"Sure I like Win," Tom replied, holding Walt close. "I like everybody." Tom rubbed his cheek against Walt's. Walt enjoyed that. "What do you do with Win?" Tom went on. "This is dangerous, but I don't care. Is it like Judith and me?"

"No, because Win's the older man and I'm the ephebe, like in old Greece."

"Who told you about Greece?"

"Danny. He knows a lot."

Walt smoothed out Tom's hair, just looking at him. Then he pushed the blanket back off Tom's shoulders and ran his hands over him. Tom was watching Walt, half smiling.

Walt said, "Am I going to have this hair on my chest when I'm older, too?"

"I guess so. Most guys do."

"Win is almost as hairy as Claude."

Tom laughed.

"Danny gave me a reading list to take to the library, so I could learn more. He's curious about what I do with Win, too. Danny's always got crushes on everybody."

"Have you done anything with Danny?"

"No. One of the books he put me onto, in the library? This novel? It was called
The City and the Pillar,
and it was about this young gay man and his travels. And how he never got over his first experience, with his best friend, on a camping trip. It was all about how he was always trying to get back to that."

"But you can't ever go back, Walt."

"No, that's not the point. Because when I got the book home, I saw all this writing inside the back cover. All this different handwriting of guys describing themselves and saying when they would be in the library at a certain spot, so they could meet other men. They give the dates, and this was going on for years in this one book. What do you think of that?"

"Walt, I love you so much."

Surprised, Walt was silent.

"Walt, I would even... well, take you to bed, if things were different." "What things?"

"Everything in my life, I guess."

"Do you love Win, too?"

"Well, he's a very attractive guy. But if you change direction in the middle of it all, it wouldn't be just for a night, would it? You don't stop with Win—you
start
with Win, and then it's... Danny, or whoever. Then someone else, and someone after that."

"Why couldn't it be just one forever?"

"Because... there's so much of it, Walt."

"Why did you send me to Win, Cousin Tom?"

"Because I hoped... I hoped you would save me."

Walt put his arms around Tom and they rubbed cheeks some more. Then they started kissing. It was the most natural thing in the world.

"Do you do this with Win?" Tom whispered.

"No, because when he starts in, I just run under the bed and won't come out till he promises not to."

"Do you like it with me?"

"Yes."

More. Then Walt said, "Why don't you invite Win to dinner and tell him about this? He's my therapist and he should know. And maybe he'll suggest something."

"Sex for three?" said grinning Tom.

"No. I think it should be you and Win. I can go to Danny's and play Sorry. We've been holding a tournament."

"You really like Danny, huh?"

"Look, why don't we go to your room and I'll give you a massage? Win and I do that a lot."

"That's all I get? A massage?"

"Sometimes he tries to show me other maneuvers, but then I'm right under the bed again."

"Is that what I pay Win for? So you can hide and refuse to do anything?"

"Look who's talking."

Tom smiled and took Walt's hand. "Come on," he said, and up they went.

What a major step for Tom! Now I'm thinking of Judith and her surprise, when, soon enough, she hears of this. But that is an experience that the reader must undertake along with Judith. For we are not only your sons and daughters: We are your fathers and mothers, husbands and wives, fiancés and fiancées. We are everywhere, trapped by your social pressures,religious witchcraft, and suffocating laws. Free us! For Tom is not the only victim in the case: Judith is a victim, too.

Of Tom and Walt in Tom's bed, sincerely I blush to tell. Is it enough to report that Tom got less than he wanted and Walt more? Now, maybe Tom was indeed using Walt to address Win; but maybe Tom wants to use Win to address Luke. One of the curiosities of gay life is that we often turn, in our twenties and thirties, back to romances that we suffered—yes, that's the word—in our teens.

It is certainly enough to report that Tom immediately bounced from Pepperidge Farm sex with Walt to an all-the-way with Win, and nothing could have seemed more logical to all three of them. Sometimes getting from hello to bed can be awkward, confusing, a shambles. Sometimes it's sleek and easy. Tom invited Win over, and, from talking about Walt's progress in sex therapy, they moved to talking about sex. Tom said, "I really don't know anything about how it works out with two guys," and Win said, "You could use some therapy yourself," so Tom said, "How about now?"

Sleek and easy. The two of them went upstairs and had such an invigorating time together that they launched an affair, the very busy kind that, at least in its first few days, utterly encircles everything else in one's life, causing Win to cut back on his therapy schedule and Tom to become a bit sloppy in his work. All of this greatly amused Walt, who recounted every detail of it to Danny. Of course Danny put in his oar, especially when the two discussed who would be doing what to whom. Leninist Russians call this
"kto kovo,"
French deconstructionists call this
"analyse du texte,"
and gays call it "dishing."

Tom had never been happier or more worried in his life. The sex was gripping but it connected to awful truths, and Tom had been living with such perfect falseness that he scarcely knew what a lie was. Now Win said to him, "When are you going to confront Judith?"

So now she must hear of this. Tom is a responsible man, and he will, as he puts it in his business dealings, "assess the reality of the situation." But, as I say, how does he even know what the reality is? How is Judith to understand what's there if even Tom can't quite see it?