How Long Has This Been Going On (62 page)

"Who do you like to fuck?" Danny asked Tom. "Judith or Win?"

"I..." Tom started to say; and
"Bullshit!"
was Danny's opinion of that.

Walt was amazed at all this backing and filling. "I guess there really are bisexuals," he informed Tom. "Only don't tell Danny."

Ask Luke, Judith had said. It sounded right. Had Tom buried some honest feeling so deeply that it was as good as dead in him?

He had no intention of asking Luke anything. But, early in spring, Tom telephoned Chris in San Francisco, and from the moment he heard her voice he felt better. Lighter, anyway.

"It works out wonderfully that you've called," Chris said, "because
maybe
I am now facing heavy renovation on this building so I need your advice.
Maybe.
Like if I buy it."

"Well, Chris, you must be solvent, huh? Life is paying off."

"I've got a partner. Or two partners. The Ironwords. She's the costume designer at the theatre, and he's something in realty that they keep reminding me of but...
Anyway.
It's a big building, in this, la, rather up-and-coming location, thank you all, with a floor for me and a floor for them and we'll rent out the rest to pay off the mortgage. You know, that middle-class thing."

"Neat," said Tom. "The wave of the future."

"Only the building is really a wreck, which is why we got such a good deal, and we need to... Well, can I question you? I've got a list...."

"Shoot, Chris."

But almost all of Chris's questions involved what Tom termed "calls on the site": inspections of the property.

"So what do I do?" she asked.

"Well, by California law you've got to hire someone to give the place a once-over. So why don't you invite us out there?"

"Us?"

"Me and Walt. He's my partner, you know."

"You would come all the way out here just to... I mean, I'd love to see you after all these—and what's Walt like as a grown-up?"

"We'll never know. He and Claude are frozen at the age of twelve."

"The
bear
? Is he still—" "Yeah, he's... Chris, what's wrong?"

"Oh, I'm crying. I've been crying a lot. I cry every morning, and then I pull myself together and run a rehearsal, and when I get home I cry some more."

"But—"

"Never mind. This girl gets over it."

"Okay."

Long pause.

"Well, what is it, Chris?" Tom says. "We always told each other everything."

"Not everything."

"Almost."

"This is past almost."

"You
crying morning and night? It can't be some guy, I know that."

"Oh, Tom." She sounded warm and wonderful, the girl he grew up with and probably the person he least feared on earth. "How do you know that?"

"Because of how strong you are. It won't be a sour date that drags Chris down. It'll be something real heavy like... well, history."

"Shit, Tom, you even know that! Well, it is, I think. History. I had an abortion and I feel like a pioneer and meanwhile everyone loathes me."

Nothing.

"You, too?" she said.

"Hell, no. It's just... Golly. You went ahead and..."

"Got rid of the product of some man's sperm in my insides. Don't I have the right? If he wants a child out of it, let
him
carry it!"

"Chris, Chris! Don't give
me
the commercial. It's none of my opinion what goes on in your body. But... Holy cow! That's... daring. How are they taking it back home?"

"They don't know. I told a few friends around here, and most of them were so judgmental or icy or just embarrassed that I... Jesus, am I some man's
incubator?"

"Well, hold on, Chris. It's just me here, another third of our famous slow dance at the prom. Chris, I love you, and I don't... I guess I don't care about the... morality?"

"The politics, Tom."

"Okay."

"Now that I've really pulled my guts out, in various ways."

"Chris."
"I can see men getting upset, because they're afraid they'll lose their power over women if any woman can... well, and so on. But why even women would—"

"Chris, we're out of Gotburg and we don't have to take orders any more. I see that. I really do."

"Tom, if I could be anywhere now, it would be in your arms, holding on."

"I'll come out there and hold you."

She laughed.

"Well, I
could,"
he said. "Walt has never seen San Francisco."

"Nor have you, if memory serves."

"I haven't seen anything but Minnesota. It would be cool to take off."

"If you come next month, you can see my new show. It's Shakespeare."

"Ugh. Poetry plays."

"But I do it with punks and nudity. You'd like it."

"What's the piece?"

"All's Well That Ends Well"

"Well, I draw a blank, anyway, but if it's Shakespeare, I'm coming."

"Look, I'm serious about the house. I mean, this really needs an expert to—

"Chris, I believe this is going to happen. I haven't taken a vacation in... Golly...."

"Not
any
vacation?"

"Except for this completely hideous camping trip last fall way up near the Red Lakes, walking around wearing 6-12 like a wet suit."

"My intrepid Tom."

"Chris. Did it hurt? The operation?"

"Oh, my unspeakable
découpage
? No, I was under and out the entire time. The hurt is social. I mean, why legalize it if your friends' reaction is like a jail term?"

"I'll bet your boy friend was wild," Tom said, trying to make it a joke.

"My boy friend? My
drug dealer
couldn't handle it. Tom, you just don't... Well, you're a man,
enfin.
It's hard for you to—"

"Chris, I want to see you. I want to show Walt something special. Is it special there?"

"Oh, it's... it's a place that everyone ought to experience at some time in their life. It's either the ultimate American city or the aberrant American city, no one here knows or cares which.
End's Well's
first night is May twenty-third, if you're in the mood for a gala."

"I don't know what I'm in the mood for. I thought a change of scene, as they say..."

"Well, this is a change from Scandihoovia, I'll say that. May twenty-third, Tom, if you mean it."

The first thing Walt said about this was that they were likely to meet Luke in San Francisco, because of Chris and all, and Luke would surely ask Walt if he had remembered to deliver his message to Tom.

"And I
don't
remember it, is the thing," said Walt. "You know, in my dream."

"Dreams don't count," said Tom.

"Boy, will Danny be pleased. He says San Francisco is the city of the future, especially for gays. He says it is 'socially inspiring.' Those very words."

"So how come he's in Minneapolis?"

It's odd how congenitally sedentary people like Tom suddenly develop an urge to travel. Men and women whose idea of a holiday is staying home to sleep late and repaint the kitchen mildly announce that this year they're going to Australia. When friends asked Tom why he was going to San Francisco, he simply said, "To help a friend with renovs on a house," but we know there's more to it. He needs to revisit his youth—not where it was located but how it felt, so he must bring Chris and Luke back into his life. He is elated and apprehensive; he doesn't know if Luke will speak to him. Worse, what if Luke is friendly but uncommunicative? What if Tom no longer matters to him?

Win predicted that Tom would find San Francisco jarring, a city full of gay men not just out but showing off, irritating the rest of the world. "I say anything goes as long as you don't scare the horses," Win told Tom. "But it's hard enough to get the average citizen to tolerate gay people. So if gays keep shoving themselves in everyone's face, well... That's how you get backlash. Look, what's on most people's minds? Meet the mortgage, keep the kids clean, shoot that noisy dog in the lot next door. They're not really interested in what some citizens do in their bedrooms. But you take that bedroom stuff out on the street—"

"Wait a minute," said Tom. "On the street like how?"

"Like a horde of sexy, muscular men wearing as little as possible stroll the city looking every hot guy up and down with a smirk. Or they're kissing in public. You know, as if they owned the place."

"I've been sitting listening to this," said Danny, "just in disbelief at what a rotten son of a bitch you are."

Alas, this was Tom and Walt's eve-of-the-trip dinner party: Tom and his friend Win, Walt and his friend Danny, and Judith and her brother William, all grouped around a good old Minnesota dinner of walleyed pike, hot potato salad, and creamed corn, with a green salad and the holiday brandy.

"Your opinion stinks," Danny went on. "San Francisco's gays aren't shoving anything in anyone's face, they're just living openly. Anyway, isn't that what straights do to us?
They
kiss in public! Who's pushier in cruising than the heterosexual male, huh, Mr. Smug?" Danny turned to Judith. "Aren't they? Pushy?"

"Some men can be.... It really might be a class thing rather than—"

"No, it's
not
class!" cried Danny. "It's
sexual politics!"

"I'd say this is the kind of hysteria," Win told Danny, "that turns moderate people against your cause."

"Who's
moderate," Danny countered, "you Republican freak?"

Before Win could respond, Walt broke in with "I just wish I could remember Luke's message to Tom."

"What message?" Judith asked.

"Oh, in my famous dream of long ago. Luke came to me the night before he left for college. He came in the dream and said—"

"William," said Tom. "You've been so quiet."

"Yes," said William. "Oh, yes."

"I hope we haven't shocked you with our... well—"

"I knew everyone would be fighting, from what Judith told me. All this trading of beds among a tight coterie is bound to create tension. Then you have the politics," a limp hand waving from Danny to Win, "and the spurned lady," taking in Judith. "Then the mystery guest." William smiled at them all. "Yes, why is
he
here?, you're thinking. Because Judith invited me. But why did she? Judith?"

"I would have felt odd without..."

"Support, of course.
That's
not why. Tell, Judith. Tell."

Even Danny, fuming at Win, turned to Judith and William to hear what this was.

Judith shrugged: It's your scene, apparently, so
you
play it.

"Dear," said William. "Dear me, it would seem that our Judith was hoping that, once ensconced in the company of merrily out-and-about homosexuals, I, too, would be inspired to... now, this lovely term...
come out.
Yes, Judith?"

"Wow," Danny uttered.

Tom said, "Well, no kidding."

"It's quite some party here," noted Walt.

"A moment of honesty" was Win's observation. "Sudden, but very timely, really."

Judith looked helpless.

"And yet," said William. "Oh, and yet. For what happiness has this honesty of yours brought you all? Nobody here seems to have what he wants. Everyone's uprooted, in flux. Is this fraternity that I see before me? Or lost souls?"

"Listen, you—" Danny began.

"I merely ask for information," said William.

"I'm
happy," said Walt.

"And our rigid friend here," said William, turning to Danny with the devil's grin. "Are you happy?"

"What about if
anyone's
happy?" said Judith. "Maybe it should be, Are you more happy or less happy?"

"Now, that's a fair way to put it," said Win.

"The giant stirs," said William, "and all are still."

"Okay," said Judith. "Tom. Are you happy now that you've come out?"

"Yes," he answered. Two beats, then he added, "In fact, I have to say this, I don't know how I managed all those years when I lived... well, against my inclinations."

"Whatever they are," Judith added.

"Dear, dear," said William. "Well,
dear.
Because everyone's in love, it appears, yet no one's getting any."

"It doesn't have to be that kind of love," said Walt. "It only has to be friendship."

"Piffle," said William.

"We'll be in San Francisco for only a week," Walt went on, "yet I already know how much I'll miss Danny, to be able to tell him about things and see how he feels."

"What if you never come back from San Francisco?" said William. "It's the familiar story—midwestern boy sees the great city of do-as-you-like and promptly adopts it. After years of wondering and wishing, he has come home."

"I couldn't do that," said Walt.

"I was thinking of our handsome Tom. Young men like him are flocking to San Francisco by the horde, their heads turned by their comrades' greedy looks. They are claiming the city. Why, history is being made!"

"How do you react to this, Tom?" said Win, the therapist.

"Well, how could I just pick up and move, whatever I saw in San Francisco? I've got a business here. I know this town, and its people, and the subcontractors."

"San Francisco, the arriving city," said William. "Money's flowing in, the gentry are claiming whole sections to reconstruct and divide among themselves. You'd be in demand for many reasons, one has no doubt."

"You
pig,"
said Danny. "Goading us, mocking us, you smug stupid closet case. You're laughing at the thought of Walt moving away and leaving me alone."

"I never," said William, gloating.

"Are we moving, Cousin Tom? Because I didn't hear about this."

"We're just going on a trip," said Tom.

"It's the familiar story," William sang out. "It's Mecca, and Cousin Tom is a pilgrim."

"What about our music, Walty?" Danny pleaded. "We've got bookings for the next three months."

"But, Danny, we're not moving."

"They will," cried William. "They
will"

"Walty—"

"William,
stop
it!" said Judith.