by Nick Poff
I can only imagine how Gladys would have dealt with the situation if she didn’t have me as a scapegoat, but I damned myself completely by writing my name inside the Vidal book. I had done so because I wrote my name in all the books I acquired in college. Books were passed around freely in my dormitory, and we all wrote our names in them to make sure we got them back. I didn’t even think about that when I gave the book to Ernie.
Ernie didn’t go into great detail about the scene that followed between him and his mother. I can only imagine her histrionics. She told him she had not approved of his friendship with me in high school, and now she knew why – I was queer. It was also obvious that I was trying to seduce Ernie into a deviant lifestyle. She demanded he never see me again, and that he burn both books. “I don’t want this filth in my house,” she shrieked at him.
Ernie said he was afraid he would reveal his real feelings for me if he argued with her, so he thought it best to throw two other paperbacks in the trash barrel for burning. He did so, and thought that would be the end of it. He did not know, he claims, about her plans to go to the high school and get me fired.
I’m not sure I believe him. Why? The key word in the above paragraph is “afraid”. Ernie was scared of his mother when we were in high school. Now he seems to be absolutely terrified of her. It hit me in a blinding flash: How could I so deeply love a man so timid? How could I love, or continue to love, a man who won’t even stand up to a tyrannical, unreasonable mother? And, God forbid, if we somehow succeeded in building a life together, how could I ever count on him in rough times?
He must have seen something in my eyes, because he said in a rush of words that he was going to help me. I laughed. How could he possibly help me now? His mother had branded me as a homosexual and fellow traveler. Even if Mr. Gorham succeeded in saving my job, how could I ever be effective as a teacher in Porterfield? How, for that matter, could I ever hope to teach anywhere with this hanging over my head. Didn’t he realize my professional reputation had been destroyed by that horrible bitch? Couldn’t he see that?
Apparently not.
He handed me an envelope and a ring of keys. The money, he said, was everything he had in the bank, six hundred seventeen dollars. He wanted me to have it so I could start a new life somewhere. The keys, he explained, were an extra set to the store and his old Chevy. He told me to walk over to the store later and take his car and leave town, and if I wanted to, use the key to get into the store and take whatever was in the cash register. Once I was relocated, I should call him, and somehow he’d find a way to be with me.
I looked at him in absolute disbelief. Had he considered Evie? How could I possibly do such a thing to her? Had he, really, considered me?
I knew at that point that I wanted him out of the house. I knew I had no desire to ever see him again. So, in order to get him to leave quickly, I told him I would do as he planned. I would pack what I needed and sneak over to Jacks Hardware and steal the store’s money and take his car and leave town. I would call him once I was safely elsewhere.
He moved to kiss me before he left. I reached for him, sadly, thinking of a kiss goodbye, or maybe a kiss for luck. It was neither. It was simply a kiss from a man I once loved.
I just went into the hall to make sure Evie is asleep. I brought the whole bottle of tranquilizers back to my room. There are not enough pills left in the bottle to put me to sleep forever, but certainly enough to put me to sleep for tonight.
Ed looked up. “That’s it.”
Rick was staring at his hands folded in his lap. “So he takes all the pills…”
“And then what?” Rex whispered.
“He hides all of the stuff Ernie gave him along with his journal in the fireplace…” Ed said slowly. “But why?”
Rick looked up, his mouth open in surprise. “He didn’t kill himself! If was he intent on committing suicide, he didn’t need to hide that stuff. He thought…he thought he’d get up in the morning and be calm enough to figure out what to do next. You heard what he wrote. He wouldn’t do something like that to Evie.”
“So how did he get on the train tracks?” Rex’s face was strained, as if he desperately needed to understand.
“Those pills,” Ed said, nodding his head. “They hit everyone differently. They knock out some people, but some people just get loopy when they take too many. It’s almost like being drunk.”
“So, he’s bombed half out of his mind on pills, staggering around like Neely O’Hara in Valley of the Dolls,” Rick said. “He gets one of those dumb ideas everybody gets when they’re drunk, and somehow decides talking a walk in the snow will help clear his head or calm him down, whichever he was thinking.”
“And he was just messed up enough to walk on the tracks,” Ed said, shuddering at the pictures in his mind. “And… when he realized he had to get out of the train’s way…”
“He was so…” Rick trailed off.
“He was so fucked up he slipped in the snow and fell in front of the train instead of falling backwards,” Rex finished grimly.
“My God,” Rick whispered.
The three of them sat silent, as if frozen. There didn’t seem to be anything else to say.
###
They were at the dining room table, dispiritedly making their way through the hamburgers Rick had prepared, and a baked bean casserole Effie Maude had made earlier. The rain had stopped and the clouds had blown off, allowing a sudden blast of sunshine through the dining room windows. Ed was in no mood for sunshine. The earlier rain seemed more appropriate for the evening.
The phone rang. Ed sighed, shook his head at Rick and Rex, and went into the kitchen to answer it.
“Good evening, my friend.” It was Muriel.
“Good evening yourself. What’s up?”
“Can I stop by your place in a little bit?”
“Sure. Do you need a ride?”
“No. I’m at the newspaper office with Rupert. He’ll bring me over. We’ve had our heads together about a story he’s working on. Before that, though, I was working on something else. There’s something I want to give you and Rick.”
Ed wasn’t as excited by this prospect as he might have been earlier in the day, but he put some manufactured enthusiasm into his voice and told her they couldn’t wait to see her.
Muriel made a grand entrance through the front door, but even with her limited eyesight she could see something was wrong. “What’s going on?” She demanded.
Ed led her into the den and handed her Daniel’s last notebook. “I found this at the house today. We know what happened.”
Rex, Rick, and Ed gathered around as Muriel scanned the journal entries. She got to the last one, shook her head, and then read it again. When she looked up her face was pale. “It was an accident, then,” she whispered. “That poor man!”
“So now you can understand why we’re a little bummed out tonight,” Rick said, patting her shoulder. “It was just such a waste. Oh, I know he would have had to eventually leave Porterfield and find a new career, but he could have. Should have.”
“Oh!” Muriel threw her head back against the couch cushions. “Poor Evie! No wonder she went into a major freak out. She had no idea what was going on, and then to see her brother like that…”
Ed sighed. “It ripped apart any security she’d built up in the last month. No wonder she eventually just shut down the whole world.”
Muriel reached for her purse. “Well,” she said, “I was going to make a big ceremony out of giving you this, but now… shit. Here’s B.M. Tarpley’s real identity.” She handed Ed a piece of paper.
Rick and Rex looked over Ed’s shoulder so they could read it.
ERNEST JACKS
VICE PRESIDENT, MIDWEST DIVISION
CUSTER HARDWARE CORP
5507 CUSTER DRIVE
FORT LEE, NEW JERSEY 07605
(201) 555-9400 EXT 3577
CHAPTER TWENTY
“So what do I tell anyone who asks why you’re spending La
bor Day in New Jersey?” Rex was sprawled across the bed in Ed and Rick’s room. Rick was rummaging in his closet; Ed was checking their dopp kits to make sure they were properly stocked.
“You could tell them,” Ed said as frowned at the expiration date on a travel size container of pain reliever, “that we’re gonna pick up Freddy Cannon and go down to Palisades Park, but I think they tore that place down a long time ago.”
Rick went motionless in front of the closet. “Dammit, Edward! Now I’m gonna have that dumb song in my mind all night.”
“Sorry,” Ed said meekly.
“Well, for what it’s worth,” Rick said, trying to shake the music out of his head. “You can tell people we heard New Jersey is lovely this time of year, and we wanted to see it for ourselves.”
“Besides,” Ed said, going to his own closet, “if they take the time to read Muriel’s column tomorrow they’ll probably figure it out.”
Rex giggled. “I can’t wait to read that!”
Muriel’s parting shot the night she gave them Ernie’s contact information was, “This town isn’t ready for the column I’m going to write to slap them in the face this weekend. I’ll give ‘em something to talk about at their Labor Day picnics!”
Ed and Rick had then debated what to do in regards to Ernie Jacks. Why bother the guy? They knew everything they had wanted to know.
On the other hand, Ed and Rick were gay men who’d faced their share of bigotry. They were genuinely, if belatedly, angry on Daniel’s behalf. They admitted to each other they wanted to face the son of a bitch who had let Daniel down.
“Why are we even discussing this?” Rick had finally asked rhetorically. “We know we’re gonna end up calling him, and no matter what he says, we’re going to New Jersey and read his ass.”
So Thursday morning Rick got on the kitchen phone, Ed on the front hall phone, and Rex picked up the phone in their bedroom. Rick punched the buttons that would connect them to Fort Lee, New Jersey.
“Good morning, Ernest Jacks’ office,” said a smooth and very familiar voice. Well! If it isn’t the fake Emile Autouri, Ed thought.
Evidently Rick recognized the voice as well. “Good morning, Mr. Briscoe,” he said smoothly. “Richard Benton and Edward Stephens calling for Mr. Jacks, please.”
There was a brief pause. “Just a moment, please.” There was a click and silence.
“Do you suppose Emile hung up on us?” Ed said.
Just then they heard the sound of a phone being picked up. “Hello, gentlemen,” said a deep, pleasant voice. “I’ve been waiting for your call.”
Ed could hear Rex’s gasp through the phone. He was quite taken aback himself. Apparently Rick was as well. “Uh…yes,” Rick mumbled. “I’m glad you’re willing to speak to us.”
“I figured you would track me down eventually,” Ernest Jacks said seriously. “I probably should have been completely honest with you from the beginning, but I wanted Jimmy – Mr. Briscoe – to get a good look at you and decide what kind of characters you were.”
“And?”
“And he told me you were both trustworthy men. Again, I thought about revealing myself, but I honestly didn’t know how much you knew about the house’s story. I didn’t want to stir up anything you hadn’t unearthed on your own.”
“Well, I can understand that,” Rick said, rather reluctantly.
“And we know plenty,” Ed spoke up.
“Oh?”
“Yes,” Ed said. “We didn’t know anything when we bought the house but we found Daniel’s journal.”
“Daniel kept a journal?” Ernie’s astonishment was evident. “I had no idea! Where did you find it?”
“He had a hiding place for it,” Ed said, not sure how much to reveal.
“I’ll be damned,” Ernie Jacks whispered. “Then…well, you know everything, don’t you?”
“We know you let Daniel down when he needed you the most,” Rick said with some asperity.
There was a deep sigh. “How do I even try to explain?”
“We’d like to hear you try,” Ed said with just the hint of a sneer.
“Yeah!” Rex was supposed to keep his mouth shut, but his passion for justice got the better of him.
“Who’s that?”
“That,” Rick said pointedly, “is our honorary gay son, Rex.”
“That’s wonderful,” Ernie said in a low voice. “You men are incredible. I only wish…” There was another sigh.
“Mr. Jacks,” Rick said, “We don’t want to interfere with your life. We have no desire to expose you in any way. The thing is, after reading Daniel’s journal, we’re, well, we’re kind of shaken. You’ve surely figured out our sexual orientation, and I’m also sure you can see why this means a lot to us.”
“Yes, I do. I do understand.” He paused. “I don’t think the telephone is the best way for you to hear my, uh, confession as it were. It’s very difficult for me to get away. Is there any way you could come to New Jersey?”
“We’d love to,” Rick said. “The sooner the better. I believe a change of scenery would do us some good about now.”
“Good. I could meet you here in my office on Labor Day. That may seem a bit odd, but it’s the only time I have free.”
“We’ll be there. What time?”
“One o’clock would be best for me. Do you have the address?”
“We do.”
“Good. I’ll see you Monday at one.” There was a click and then a dial tone.
The three of them met up in the front hall. “Think you can hold down the fort and my clients for a few days?” Ed smiled at Rex.
“I’ll do my best,” Rex smiled back.
Rick laughed. “Okay. I’ve got to say it.” He adopted a sing song voice. “If someone had told me at the beginning of the summer we’d be spending Labor Day in New Jersey…”
Ed laughed, too. “Why, you’d have told them they were plumb loco.”
“What would you have said if someone told you you’d have an adopted son by Labor Day?” Rex smirked.
Rick put an arm around Rex. “My boy, I probably wouldn’t have said anything. I probably would have fainted.”
###
They went into high gear with travel plans after that, choosing a flight that left Fort Wayne Sunday morning, and selecting a lavishly expensive hotel on the Jersey palisades. And now, on Friday night, Ed and Rick were, like the good gay men they were, packing early, and like a good many gay men, were packing entirely too much.
Rick glared at the clutter of clothes on the bed surrounding Rex. “Why do you have your swim trunks out?”
“The hotel might have a pool,” Ed defended himself. “We’ll have a lot of time to kill, you know.”
“And what if you decide to go into Manhattan?” Rex said.
“What does that have to do with Ed’s pool attire?”
Rex shrugged. “Nothing. I’m just thinking you guys deserve a break. You should have some fun on this trip, too.”
Rick picked up Ed’s swim trunks and sat down on the bed. “I don’t know,” he said, folding the trunks. “Driving into Manhattan and going off on a toot of some kind sounds great, but frankly, I don’t know if I’m up to it right now.”
“I’d like a toot,” Ed said, “but I’m afraid I’m too pooped to toot.”
Rex burst into giggles.
“That was marvelously scatological, baby.” Rick threw the trunks at Ed. “I’m glad to know we’re on the same page about extending our time there. I kind of like the idea of coming home on Tuesday and hiding for the rest of the week.”
“We don’t have to decide now.”
“No, we don’t. Thank God. We need to think spontaneously.”
Ed flopped on the bed. “I don’t know if I know how to do that anymore.”
“It’s like riding a bike, babe,” Rick said absently, peering into his own suitcase.
“Listen, you guys,” Rex said uncertainly, “I don’t want to make any trouble, but you’re gonna
be around tomorrow, aren’t you?”
“Sure,” Ed said, falling across Rex’s legs. “What’s up?”
“Well, I’ve got something I want to do, something I’ve been thinking about for a few weeks. I’m hoping you’ll help me with it.”
Rick cocked an eyebrow at him. “I guess we can help you out with whatever you need, as long as it’s legal.”
“Oh, it is,” Rex said quickly. “Tomorrow afternoon? I don’t want to tell you what it is in case it falls apart on me.”
Ed sighed. “Does this whatever-it-is involve extreme physical labor or any special sort of clothes?”
“No.”
“Good. I’ll be here.”
###
Ed didn’t have a clue as to what Rex was up to on Saturday, but given Rex’s pensive mood, Ed didn’t think it was any sort of a party. At one point he found Rex in the study scanning the book shelves. He had finished The Front Runner, and had then moved on to Warren’s The Beauty Queen. (He’d stomped around the house for the next several days muttering “fucking Anita Bryant” under his breath.) He’d raced through The City and The Pillar, anxious to know what had gotten Daniel in trouble. Now he was about to reach for Larry Kramer’s Faggots, but Ed directed his hand toward non-fiction.
“I don’t think you’re ready for that one yet,” Ed said. “This is a bit more inspirational.” He handed Rex The David Kopay Story.
Rex looked at the cover. “I’ve never really been into football,” he said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
“Yeah? Me neither. You’ve been a closeted gay man, haven’t you?”
“Yeah,” Rex admitted.
“That’s all you need to be to read this book.”
Ed gave him a coach-like slap on the ass and sent him on his way.