Beach Reading

by Abramson, Mark

  Between you and me, Tim, she had a hard time of it when their daughter was born by C-section, so maybe all that talk about birth just isn’t her cup of tea.

  I would love to come and visit sometime. Thanks for asking. Are you sure you have room for me? I could get a hotel. I haven’t been to San Francisco in ages, but September was always a nice time of year. After school starts the tourist season settles down a bit and things aren’t quite as crowded, but the weather is still good. I remember those lines for the cable car at Powell and Market! When I was at Stanford, we used to drive in for an afternoon and walk down Haight Street or go to Golden Gate Park and pretend we were flower children, too. What happy times those were!

  Now I want you to promise me you’re staying safe if you know what I mean and I think you do. I’m sure you’re happier in San Francisco than you would be here, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t missed and loved. I’ll look at flights for September and it’ll be here before you know it. Keep in touch, Tim, and if you see Dave Anderson, be careful of your heart. I’d hate to see you get hurt again.

  Much love always,

  Aunt Ruth

  Tim was excited at the prospect of seeing his Aunt Ruth again and he knew the guys at Arts would get a kick out of her. He scanned the remaining e-mail. His HIV meds were ready to pick up at Walgreens—Tim dreaded sharing that news with his Aunt Ruth—and his credit card bill was available for viewing. That made it sound like a body at a wake. He was about to stand up from his desk when a new message came in about protests being planned against Arlo Montgomery this weekend. Tim glanced at the grainy pictures on dudesurfer.com once again. Lots of guys were looking for sex on a Tuesday morning. Tim wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but it was too nice a day to waste it indoors.

  Tim poured a mug of coffee and stood barefoot outside the back door in his tiny garden. He considered what Arturo had said about a hobby—besides men—and told himself again that his affair with Jason was part of the past. He also thought about his Aunt Ruth’s upcoming visit and her concerns about Dave, Tim’s old track coach. Part of him wanted to scream, “Everybody just leave me alone!” but he also knew that people’s concerns were out of love.

  Here he was in sunny California on a Tuesday morning with nothing to do. The local news said there was a mild off-shore breeze and the paper showed the lowest tide at the Golden Gate Bridge at 1pm. If he had a car he’d love to drive to San Gregorio or Devil’s slide. He could take the bus to Baker Beach, but it would be crawling with straight people on such a warm day. Tim didn’t want to immerse himself so deeply into the Coppertone world of horny heterosexuals.

  Then he remembered Land’s End. Jason had taken him there once. Tim showered and shaved and stuck a paperback book inside his beach towel. Maybe he could space out enough to get into reading while he basked in the sand. On impulse he also tossed the joints in the Band-Aid box into his backpack as he headed out to catch the #24 Divisadero bus to Geary. He bought a sandwich at the Honey-Baked Ham store and found a seat all the way in back of the #38 Geary to Point Lobos. Tim flipped through the Chronicle, but saw nothing today about the evangelists coming to purge his sins.

  Tim walked north through the smells of eucalyptus and didn’t see another soul until he reached the sign: Caution—People have been swept from the rocks and drowned. He peeled off his T-shirt as a woman jogged around the bend and smiled at him. At the bottom of the hillside a half dozen men were already in the clearings between rocks and driftwood. Tim groped through his backpack for a bathing suit and changed. He liked being naked, but he loved a tan line. Jason had once told him that the white stripe made a perfect target in the dark.

  Tim didn’t see anyone he recognized at the beach, but he eyed a couple of guys he might like to know. He reached for the Band-Aid box and took one hit off a joint. Jason had told him about a time when this beach was a playground for gay men, when dozens or hundreds dotted the primitive landscape on any sunny day with their naked tanned flesh among the ancient boulders. Every open space of sand boasted a figure who might have been an Olympic athlete. The rocks were the bases of statues of living Greek Gods. That was before they built the stairs making the beach accessible to anyone and everyone. That must have been before AIDS had come along, too.

  Tim took another hit off the joint. He’d heard people claim they saw things on drugs. He didn’t want to see things and he didn’t like drugs, only pot. His grandmother had seen things and he had supposedly inherited her gift. Every once in a while it crept into the back of his mind like a guilty conscience, but he hardly noticed it lately except in his dreams.

  He liked pot. It helped him stay in the present. He could stare at a painting in the DeYoung Museum for an hour and imagine what went through the artist’s mind as he chose each brush stroke. Tim could also stare at his big toe for an hour, but at least he wasn’t having visions about what might happen, nor was he dwelling on the past. He looked at his watch and an hour had passed. This shit was strong! He took his watch off. He didn’t need a tan line there.

  “Tim, is that you?” came a voice from the distance. Tim glanced up at a group of men coming toward him. The voice sounded familiar. It was Jake from work and those guys from Sunday—Corey, the birthday boy, and that guy who’d carried him out of the Eagle and the other one. What were their names?

  “Hey, Jake!” Tim waved. So much for solitude. “What’s up?”

  “Look who I ran into on the street. You remember Corey, don’t you?” Jake asked. “And Donald and Jerry?”

  “Hi guys. How much longer are you in town? Where’s the other one… Uncle Fred?”

  “He went to L.A. to take care of some business,” Jerry said. “We’re heading back to Denver tomorrow morning, but we stopped on Castro Street to shop and ran into Jake there, who was nice enough to drive us out to the beach.”

  Tim guessed the limo must have only been at Uncle Fred’s disposal or maybe it was a special treat for Corey’s birthday.

  “I borrowed my roommate’s car,” Jake explained as he undressed, revealing pierced nipples and navel, plus a new tattoo on his left side that Tim had never seen before. “This would have been a great day for San Gregorio, but I have to work tonight, unlike some people I know. Do you mind if we join you?” Jake had already spread a blanket beside Tim, so the question was a mere formality.

  “Sure, why not? How do you like San Francisco, Corey? Did you have a good birthday?” Tim couldn’t resist asking the poor kid about it.

  “I don’t remember much after we left the restaurant. I must have passed out. I’m glad I got to see you again today.”

  Tim told himself he wasn’t interested in younger guys, but he had to admit this kid was really something. Corey unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a body that wasn’t overly developed, but got Tim’s attention. When Corey slipped out of his jeans to reveal a pale blue Spandex bathing suit, Tim’s mouth watered. He pictured Corey’s long athletic legs in a jock strap. “It’s nice to see you again, too… your last night in town, huh? Have you got big plans?”

  “Not yet,” said Donald from the blanket a few feet away. “Any suggestions?”

  Before Tim could answer, he heard a helicopter and expected to see the gigantic mirror ball come into view, but it was only a news crew headed toward the Golden Gate Bridge. “It’s too bad you won’t be here for the party on Saturday night,” Tim said. “You must have seen the helicopter and the biplane out on Sunday, or was that too late for you?”

  “We saw it,” Jerry said.

  “We saw it from the limousine on Sunday morning before we came to the restaurant,” Corey said. “They told me it was out again later, too. Are you going to the big dance party, Tim?”

  “I have to work… alone,” Tim said for Jake’s benefit. “That way my co-workers can go. Besides, there’s going to be a demonstration at the Civic Center this weekend and I thought that might be more interesting.”

  “I’m going to the protest at the airport when Arlo Montgomery’s flight
comes in,” Jake said. “I can still make it to work on Friday and go to the party on Saturday, but I’ll feel that I’ve done my gay duty.”

  “Is there always so much happening in San Francisco?” Corey asked, wide-eyed. “I think I should live here.”

  Jake said, “You wouldn’t be the first guy to visit San Francisco and fall in love… with the city, I mean.”

  “Anybody like to share a joint with me?” Tim asked and reached for his lighter. There was no way he wanted to talk about falling in love. This was his day to escape. “It’s some killer weed I got from an old lady I met on MUNI.”

  “Are you serious?” Jake asked.

  “None for me,” Donald said. “The rest of you go ahead.”

  “Yeah, I met this old lady and helped her with her groceries. She’s visiting her ailing gay brother and I had lunch with them yesterday because I left my cap there on Sunday. Great apartment,” Tim said as he relit the joint. “The kitchen was like something out of Auntie Mame, but with wonderful views and an enormous deck where he grows this pot… or the gardener does.”

  “He has a gardener for an apartment?” Jerry asked.

  “Well… someone to come and water the plants,” Tim explained. “It’s not like it’s a full-time job or anything. The brother is in a wheelchair and he has permission from his doctor to have a few plants, but I’m warning you it’s really strong stuff. A little goes a long way.”

  “Where did you come from, Tim?” asked Corey as Jake handed him the joint. “Are you a native San Franciscan?”

  “Minneapolis,” Tim said. “South Minneapolis and then Edina—the suburbs.”

  “Nice lakes,” Corey said and took a deep hit, holding it as long as he could and handing the joint to Tim.

  “Thanks,” Tim said. “Your legs are nice, too… What? Did you say lakes? Oh, shit! I’m already pretty stoned.”

  Corey started to laugh and cough at the same time. Tim jumped up to pat him on the back. “Are you all right? I’ve got water in my backpack. Here, I’ll get it for you.”

  “Thanks, Tim,” Corey said, taking a sip. “I was in Minneapolis last summer and I had a great time. Hey, where does that trail go?”

  “Did you say this was your first trip to San Francisco, Corey?” asked Jake.

  “Yeah.”

  “That trail goes up to some paths where boys like you could get in big trouble,” said Tim.

  “Sounds like fun. Do you want to show me?”

  Tim grinned. “It can be treacherous. You should put your sneakers back on. Come on... ”

  They were close enough to the water at low tide that waves crashed above their knees and then slithered back down between the boulders. Corey stared off toward the Marin County headlands and watched a Norwegian freighter head out to sea as a spray of mist spread across his face. “Hey, Tim! Wait up! I think I must be more stoned than you are.”

  When Corey caught up Tim said, “I was gonna take you to the cave, but it looks like some bears beat us to it.”

  “Huh?”

  “Bears… big hairy burly guys? You must have bears in… where are you from? Denver?”

  “I live in D.C. now until I finish college next year. The three of us will fly to Denver tomorrow and then I’ll go on alone from there.”

  “Who are those guys… your personal bodyguards?”

  “Donald and Jerry are a couple. They’ve worked for my Uncle Fred since before my parents died. I was still in high school when he took me in.”

  “I’m sorry,” Tim said.

  “I was lucky in some ways,” Corey went on. “They’ve always been around to look out for me. Families come in all different shapes and sizes, I guess. My Uncle Fred figured out I was gay before I did.”

  “I have an aunt like that,” Tim said. “My Aunt Ruth took me in… and my Uncle Dan, but they’re not together anymore. I was always closer to her than anyone else.”

  “Are your parents dead, too?” Corey asked, almost hopeful that they shared such a coincidence.

  “Yes… no… I don’t know,” Tim said. “They might as well be. At least I’m dead, as far as they’re concerned.”

  “I’m sorry,” Corey said. They stopped when two naked blonde boys ran past them, snapping towels at each other and laughing in German. “Do your parents know you’re in San Francisco?”

  “Maybe…” Tim answered. “My Aunt Ruth keeps in touch with them. My mother is her only sister. It seems like if you’re going to disappear, why not San Francisco? I’ve met people here with much worse stories than mine. Listen, could we talk about something else?”

  “Sure, Tim… sorry.”

  Tim smiled and said, “No problem.” They continued westward and didn’t talk at all for a while. Tim stopped and pointed toward a cruise ship that was coming into the bay.

  “Look how close it is, Tim,” Corey said. “You could almost touch it! Hey, are those rainbow flags?”

  “Woo-hoo!” Tim laughed and waved. “It’s a gay cruise! Lock up the children! The bars in the Castro will be crowded tonight. I wonder if they’re all coming to the party on Saturday. Come on, Corey. Let’s climb up there and I’ll show you those paths you asked about.”

  Corey started up the steep path, but slipped backward. Tim stopped his fall by catching Corey’s right butt cheek in his hand. “Careful!” Tim shouted above the waves. “I don’t want anything to happen to you out here. I can just see your uncle sending his hired goons after me. They’ll want to kill me instead of pay me…” Tim stopped short. He doubted that Corey knew about his Uncle’s offer to pay Tim for sex and there was no reason this beautiful boy should have to pay anyone, Tim thought. Corey hadn’t seemed to hear anything over the roar of the surf and Tim was glad that his words were swept away on the wind.

  Once they were on solid ground above the cliff, Tim took the lead again. He ducked under a branch and Corey followed him into a clearing in the shade. “Wow, it’s a lot cooler up here. I can’t even see the ocean anymore, but I still hear it.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Tim raised his hands to Corey’s chest and rolled the boy’s nipples between his fingertips. Corey moaned and leaned forward as his lips parted and his tongue found Tim’s teeth. They kissed long and hard in the shadows until they had to stop for air. Tim took a couple of deep breaths and grinned. He felt like a kid sharing his favorite game with a new playmate.

  Corey breathed deeply, too, and let his hands slide down from Tim’s chest to his crotch. “I’ve wanted to do this ever since you came through those swinging doors in that restaurant on Sunday and handed me a menu.”

  All Tim could say was, “Mmmm…”

  A half hour later they sat at the edge of the cliff, looking out toward passing sailboats near the north tower of the Golden Gate Bridge. “What are you thinking?” Corey asked.

  “That this is always the time when I wish I smoked cigarettes.”

  “That’s just great!” Corey frowned. “I hoped you might be thinking how sorry you are that I have to leave tomorrow.”

  “Of course, that’s the other thing, but you have tonight, don’t you?”

  “What do you have in mind, Tim?”

  “Well, I’m not working. We could have dinner someplace. I don’t care where—Chinatown? The Mission? North Beach? I could show you my apartment. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s in the Castro, just around the corner from Arts. Or do you already have some secret plans? I shouldn’t assume anything. Maybe your uncle’s hired goons have your last night in town all mapped out for you.”

  “They’re not bad guys, Tim,” Corey said. “They’ve gotten into the habit of being overly protective ever since I came to live with my uncle. I don’t think I need that much protecting any more.”

  “Protect you… from what? People like me?” Tim was stoned enough to feel paranoid now. He couldn’t understand why Uncle Fred would be willing to pay Tim one day and then send out his bodyguards to protect Corey from him a couple of days later. “I don’t get it.”

  �
��It’s no big deal, Tim. My uncle has always been protective, even back when my parents were alive. He came out in a time when being gay was very secretive and now he’s paranoid because he’s convinced that everyone’s after his money.”

  “Maybe he shouldn’t flaunt it so much,” Tim said. “Did you grow up in Washington D.C.?”

  “Partly, yeah, but Tim…” Corey’s hand slid up Tim’s leg as he leaned in to bite at his ear lobe.

  “Yeah, but what?” Tim asked.

  “There are some things you didn’t much want to talk about, right?”

  “Yeah…”

  “I feel the same way, okay?” Corey said. “We only have about twenty-four hours. Let’s not waste them on talk. Let’s spend them having sex. Let’s get my stuff from the hotel and then go to your apartment. Or we could spend the whole night right here at the beach. I don’t care. I’d be happy.”

  Tim heard a familiar sound and looked up behind them at a helicopter coming into view over the VA Hospital. The enormous mirror ball spun slowly and it came so close that Tim and Corey could see the face of the pilot. Tim wondered if he intended to rinse it off in the Pacific Ocean. “Look at how close he is! I think that pilot is as crazy as you are,” Tim said and leaned over to kiss Corey full on the lips.

  “Thanks, Tim. I guess that’s a yes.” The helicopter waited for the bi-plane to catch up. Tim finally saw the banner as it rounded the bend toward the Cliff House.

  Tim read, “Dance… celebrate… Moscone Center…They must plan to advertise to everyone on Ocean Beach before they head back to fly over the gay neighborhoods again.” He thought to himself that Harley Wagner would love this party.

  “Who is Sylvester?” Corey asked.

  “He used to live in San Francisco. He was a famous disco singer and a drag queen too. I like his music, but if he was before my time, he was way before yours. You know that song ‘It’s Raining Men… Hallelujah!’” Tim snapped his fingers and tried to sing.

  “I guess I’ve heard it.”

  “Well, that song was by The Weathergirls. They were two great big black women, Martha Wash and Izora Rhodes, who started out as Sylvester’s back-up singers, only then they were called ‘Two Tons o’ Fun!’ Your uncle’s goons might remember, but they don’t look like disco types.” Tim wanted to explain to Corey that he’d probably heard and danced to Sylvester’s music without knowing it, but Corey kissed him again.