Simple Simon

by William Poe

  “Doesn’t it make you angry?” I asked Tony. “First, Christians posit the existence of sin, then use ancient writings to insist that homosexuality is the worst sin of all. Somehow, one man’s death makes everything all right, but only if you believe in the precise way—that the man was part of some Trinitarian godhead with the Holy Spirit thrown in for good measure. It’s all so incomprehensible.”

  That I somehow thought Blavatsky’s Isis Unveiled made any kind of sense was utterly lost on me at the time.

  Tony tried to avoid the conversation, but I pushed until he finally said, exasperated, “Simon, I love you, but you think too much.”

  I didn’t want anything to come between us, especially religion. I resisted the argument in my head—that the problem with the world was that people didn’t think enough.

  Tony, in his heartfelt way, explained what my intellectualizing was unable to do. Just as my good memories of church involved Vivian’s tender embrace as we sat in the pew on Sunday mornings, Tony associated church with his father.

  “My earliest memories are of Dad taking Mom and me to church,” Tony said. “I remember a bake sale one summer. Dad and I made smiley face sugar cookies and sold them with glasses of lemonade.”

  Memories of his father connected Tony to religious life. I just had to accept that about him. Still, I worried that Christianity might drive us apart one day.

  When Tony and I were able to hook up, it was usually at Darsey’s apartment. Darsey insisted we use his bedroom whenever we wanted. I always suspected that he was spying at the door, but Tony and I didn’t have much choice if we wanted to be together. I couldn’t bear the idea of Tony climbing the trellis as Ernie had done. Tony’s mother, although an accepting person, wasn’t liberal enough to condone Tony having sex under her roof.

  Darsey never complained about our intrusions. He was lonely, especially since his relationship with George hadn’t panned out. Darsey could survive without a boyfriend, but not without drama. He greedily absorbed every detail I told him about my “affair” with Tony, as Darsey characterized the relationship.

  While waiting for Tony one afternoon, I explained to Darsey the plans we were making. “We’ll live together at college,” I said, “and then go to graduate school. We’re expecting to get scholarships at State College of Arkansas in Conway. He’ll be a musician, and I’ll be an artist.”

  “Two boys meet as teenagers,” Darsey mused. “They remain lovers all their lives…”

  I detected an edge of melancholy in Darsey’s slightly drunk restating of my plans. Finishing his third glass of sherry, the story he recited was the one he had hoped for himself.

  “Your life isn’t over, Darsey,” I consoled. “George may not have been the one, but he is out there. I’m sure of that.”

  Darsey poured a fourth glass of sherry.

  Tony’s and my scholarships came through. We had listed on the application forms that we wanted to be roommates and could barely contain our excitement when touring the dormitories during an open house.

  “It’ll be cozy,” Tony said on the drive home, thinking about the dorm room we had picked out. “We’ll put the twin mattresses together and make one big bed. Won’t that get tongues wagging?”

  “Things are working out.” I smiled.

  Tony took my hand and pressed it to his lips.

  Though weeks remained before graduation, I started to pack up my books so I could store them in the basement while I was away at college. It was a melancholy task, especially so soon after Mandy’s death.

  Lenny seemed unusually depressed. I supposed it was a combination of losing his mother and the fact that his last child would soon leave the nest. Lenny stopped saying so much as “good morning” when I passed him on the stairway. Making things worse, I overheard him talking to Vivian about their financial troubles. Bobwhite Nursing Home had sent a final bill after Mandy died. Lenny didn’t have the money to pay. Medicaid had made an inquiry about Mandy’s age and was withholding payment until they received documentation. After failing to locate proof in Little Rock, Lenny drove to all the courthouses in the surrounding counties, but failed to locate a marriage license between Bart and Mandy. The government had never issued Mandy a social security number. Lenny couldn’t produce legal proof that she ever existed, much less confirmation of Mandy’s age.

  I came home early one afternoon and saw Lenny’s van in the driveway. I entered through the back door. Vivian was in the kitchen preparing Lenny’s favorite meal—as best as she was able—of Salisbury steak with green beans and sweet potatoes. She called me to the stove and, in a grim voice, said, “Lenny’s out by the corral. He wants to see you.”

  I stood on the back porch petting Lenny’s coon dog, whose chain, attached to a doghouse, allowed him to reach a water bowl beside the door. Nearby were the remnants of my childhood sandbox. The chain-link fence that created the first barrier between Ernie and me had mostly collapsed over the years as the horses pushed against it to reach fresh grass when we staked them in the yard. The aging horses—Bracelet and Storm—trotted back and forth as I approached. I detoured by the creek and kicked the largest crawdad tower into the water, much to the chagrin of the crawdads, I’m sure.

  Lenny sat on a bench just outside the barn door, hunched over with his face in his hands. I walked up slowly and sat beside him.

  “Bubby,” Lenny began. He never used that name for me anymore. “I’ve tried to work things out so you can go to college in Conway.”

  My first thought was to challenge what “things” he had done—it was my academic achievements.

  “Your scholarship pays tuition,” Lenny continued. “But there’s still room and board to consider.”

  “I have money,” I interrupted. “I’ve saved most of what I earned at the Burger Chef.” I told Lenny the balance in my account. It was enough to get me through the first year, if not further.

  “It’s going to take me a few years to pay off the nursing home,” Lenny said, placing a rough hand on my forearm. When he looked up, I saw that he had been crying. Then he said, “I’m going to need heart surgery.”

  I walked away from him and gazed over the great fields once owned by our forebears.

  “They say I’ve waited too long,” Lenny said, walking up behind me. “My arteries are blocked. If I don’t go for bypass surgery now, it’ll be too late. I have to get to Houston. That’s the only place they do the operation.”

  Lenny went to the rusted swing set I’d played on as a child. He had long ago positioned it near the corral as a rack for horse blankets. He caught a dangling chain that once held up a wooden seat. “Your mother will need you,” he said, getting to what he actually wanted to say. “It’s best if you stay at home.”

  Better that one person suffers than for many to do without. The family mythology applied to me personally. I should suffer instead of allowing Vivian to be alone in case Lenny died on the operating table.

  We walked toward the house in silence. There was the spot where Mandy had pursued me from the sandbox as I drew spirals like a possessed child and where I had clobbered Ernie’s brother with a pipe. The steps leading to the back porch, the ones I had raced up when Lenny told me how ashamed he was that I didn’t know a bell pepper from a horse nettle, had considerably more wear and tear on them than when I was small. What better setting for Lenny to ruin my life?

  “It may take me a year to get back on my feet,” Lenny said as I placed my hand on the doorknob. “I’d like you to go to school in Little Rock for the first year. Just one year, Bubby. That’s all I’m asking.”

  Inside the house, Vivian had placed a bowl of mashed sweet potatoes on the table, but the steak remained on the stove. She sat by the window, listlessly rubbing her hands on her apron. She had known what Lenny was going to tell me.

  “Do what’s best for you,” Vivian said, but I knew from the uneasiness in her voice that she hoped I would stay at home. Connie had her hands full with Cheryl, and Derek’s salary barely met th
eir needs. Vivian would be alone if Lenny died—unless I remained close.

  I hugged her, committed to making the sacrifices expected of me.

  The city of Conway was only a thirty-minute drive away. Tony and I could still be lovers, I told myself. I dialed him from the upstairs phone. Tony’s mother answered.

  “He’s not here, Simon.” She sounded worried. “He telephoned last night and said he wouldn’t be coming home for a couple of days. I thought he might be with you.”

  I tried to put her at ease, saying, “Tony mentioned cramming for exams. Maybe he’s studying with a friend,” but she knew I was just making up something to say.

  “Well,” Tony’s mother said, sounding more worried than before, “tell him to call if you see him.”

  I drove to Darsey’s. Maybe he would know something about Tony, and I wanted to talk to him about my conversation with Lenny.

  “The university in Little Rock isn’t bad,” Darsey said, unsympathetically, I thought. “They have a good art department.”

  “That’s not the point, and you know it,” I shot back. “Tony might leave me because of this.”

  The glimmer of a smile played across Darsey’s lips as he went into the kitchen to check on dinner. A date was due to arrive within the hour—someone he’d met at the Drummers Club.

  “Are you holding back?” I asked when Darsey returned. “Do you know something about Tony?”

  “Certainly not,” Darsey insisted. “Now, dearest, you’re going to have to excuse me. I’ve got the cutest man coming over, with the most perfect V-shaped patch of hair on his chest. It just drives me wild!”

  Darsey was being cavalier about my situation, and it made me mad. I slammed the door on my way out of the apartment to register my feelings. As I drove away, I saw Darsey at the window, peeking from behind the curtain. He quickly retreated when I stuck out my hand and waved.

  Arriving at home, I heard Vivian and Lenny arguing on the back porch. Their voices carried into the house. I went upstairs and put on the Moody Blues album On the Threshold of a Dream.

  Two torturous days went by, and Tony still had not called. Darsey continued to insist that he knew nothing. I was terrified that Tony had found someone else. It was late on a Thursday evening when he finally got in touch. My heart leapt into my throat when Vivian hollered upstairs to tell me Tony was on the phone.

  “Simon, it’s me,” Tony said in a tone that didn’t seem natural. “I have something to tell you.”

  “You’ve found someone else, haven’t you?” I cried.

  “In a way. I’ve found Jesus.”

  “You’ve what?”

  “I knew you wouldn’t understand,” Tony said with detectable sadness. “I was going to church for all the wrong reasons. In a way, you helped me realize that, Simon. I didn’t miss my dead father; I missed the living Christ.”

  I instantly regretted having expressed my idea that he connected church with memories of his father.

  “The last few days, I’ve been at a tent revival with the Jesus People. I went with a boy from our church. They have a commune near Hot Springs. We’re going to live there over the summer.”

  “Tony, I love you! Don’t do this!”

  “I’ve repented and asked the Lord’s forgiveness. Homosexuality is a sin, Simon.”

  “Then let’s live in sin.”

  “I’m serious, Simon. If we remain friends, it will have to be through Jesus Christ.”

  “Jesus Christ, my ass!” I screamed, immediately realizing that such language might cause me to lose Tony forever. “Don’t throw away our love. Please!”

  “Open your heart to the Lord, Simon. Ask His forgiveness. Hell awaits those who refuse God’s commandments.”

  “Tony, please! Talk to your mother. Talk to Darsey. Talk to someone before you do this!”

  “I have to leave you in God’s hands, Simon. I’m going to call my mother now. She must be worried. Since the spirit lifted me up, I haven’t spoken to anyone. She may not understand, but the Jesus People showed me miracles I never knew were possible. This is the right thing for me to do. Good-bye, Simon.”

  Before I could say another word, the phone went dead.

  I sat by the window until dawn, clutching a pillow. When I dressed for school, I felt numb. Before the first class, I stuck my head in the teacher’s lounge. “Excuse me,” I interrupted, “I need to show Darsey an art project I brought in.”

  Darsey broke off his conversation with a teacher he had been laughing with and followed me to the art studio.

  “What’s up, darling? You look like something the cat dragged in. Are you all right?”

  “Tony became a Jesus freak,” I said dejectedly. “He pretty much told me I’m going to Hell.”

  Darsey waved his hand dismissively. “Well, at least you’ll be among friends.”

  “Ha-ha.” I didn’t appreciate him joking about the situation.

  “That’s better,” Darsey said, ignoring my facetiousness. “Now, dear, everyone goes through this.” He checked the door, making sure no one was outside, before hugging me. “Honey, I know it’s rough. You need to let Daddy Darsey fix you a good meal tonight.”

  “What happened to Mr. V-Shaped Chest Hair?”

  Darsey grinned. “I followed that V right to the target. But there wasn’t much there. Oh well. I sent the little man on his way. Anyway, honey, that was days ago.”

  Darsey put together a feast for my consolation dinner, served on his best china, with his finest crystal and heirloom silverware. He set out a lace tablecloth to cover the mahogany table. Overhead hung an antebellum chandelier acquired from one of the elderly rich women in the city of Tulip whom he taught painting to every Monday night. For appetizers, Darsey served escargot. The main course consisted of roast pork with mint chutney, accompanied by brussels sprouts sautéed in garlic butter. As the dinner began, Darsey opened a bottle of Saint-Émilion bordeaux.

  I was tipsy by the end of the first glass, and after finishing three, became downright intoxicated. I started talking about Tony, but then switched to my worries about Lenny’s health. After we finished eating, Darsey led me to the couch. He took off his shoes and placed his socked feet in my lap.

  “Would you mind rubbing them?” he asked. “It’s been such a trying day.”

  Barely conscious of my actions, I pulled off Darsey’s socks and rubbed the soles of his feet.

  “I know you hurt right now,” Darsey consoled, “but there will be other men.”

  “I don’t care about other men,” I cried. “I’ll never find another Tony.”

  Darsey lifted his feet away and sat up. “Lay your head down and relax,” he said, patting his lap. He began stroking my hair; his grinning face hovered over me. “Let Daddy take care of you,” he whispered, lowering his lips to mine. In the next moment, he stood and took my hands to pull me up. He walked me into the bedroom. I allowed Darsey to unbutton my shirt and slip it from my shoulders. He lifted my arms to pull my undershirt over my head. Having already peeled back the comforter, Darsey laid me down and unbuckled my belt, then took off my jeans and Jockey shorts. We rubbed our bodies together under the covers. Darsey playfully kissed me on the neck before moving down my body. He turned me on my side and wrapped me in his embrace from behind. Lulled into a foggy sense of well-being, I paid little attention as he lifted my leg and pushed toward me.

  A sharp pain broke the spell. I realized just how far I’d let Darsey go and wriggled from his arms. I jumped out of bed and rushed to turn on the light. Dressing quickly, I ran for the front door, with Darsey following close behind in his pink cotton bathrobe.

  “If you leave like this, don’t come back!” Darsey said.

  “Fine with me, faggot!” I said, slamming the door hard behind me.

  I drove downtown to the Drummers Club. It was late enough that the clientele would have changed over to the gay crowd. I sat in the parking lot across from the entrance and watched couples getting out of their cars, hand in hand, as the
y pranced toward the bar. I hated the way they swiveled their hips and cooed, “Oh, girl!” to each other. When one fellow patted his date on the ass, I nearly started up my car to run over them.

  If only I were straight, I could have had Virginia’s affections. She never would have betrayed me like this. Gay love means nothing; it can die with a glimmer of doubt or the condemnation of a Bible verse.

  Screeching from the parking lot, I headed up the road that led to the wealthy cliffside houses in Little Rock overlooking the Arkansas River. I raced along the mountain curves, faster and faster. I knew the road ended at a wooden barrier that marked the edge of the steepest cliff. At the last possible second, I slammed on the brakes and came to a precipitous stop.

  I opened the heavy door and climbed to the ledge, dangling my feet over the cliff. Maybe I should have asked Virginia to take me back. I wasn’t a gay opportunist like Darsey, not a betrayer like Tony. I should have accepted the love Virginia had for me. What else was there? Perhaps Ernie had the right idea in trying to squelch his desire by inhaling airplane glue. The dark river beckoned. A single step forward and the torment would end.

  Far below, from one of the houses, a woman’s laughter rang out. If nothing else, Vivian needed me at home. What if Lenny died on the operating table? Perhaps I could follow Aunt Opal’s example and spend the rest of my life in the Sibley house as an eccentric recluse.

  Anything would be better than feeling this pain.

  CHAPTER 12