by John Rechy
‘You want the dude to see you?’ Cob's words are both question and accusation.
Jerry doesn't move.
In the parking lot:
‘How old are you?’ the man asks Manny.
‘Eighteen,’ Manny lies.
The man smiles warmly. ‘Usually, with very young people I don't … You have a fantastic body,’ he tells Manny, as if a conflict is occurring within him. ‘What's your name?’ he's suddenly embarrassed.
‘Manny.’
‘Mine's Stuart—they call me Stu,’ he says quickly.
‘Hi, Stu,’ Manny says.
‘Would you like to come with me?’ the man rushes words. ‘I'm staying at a motel, and tomorrow, Saturday, we could go swimming. Would you like to come with me?’ His voice is urgent, as if he must struggle to form each word.
‘I got a better idea,’ Manny says.
The man's body relaxes at the implied agreement. ‘What idea?’ he asks. But he doesn't really care; he's ferociously excited by Manny, the materialization of the sex fantasies of so many times.
‘That old house over there,’ Manny points. ‘It's empty, man, and like we could go there.’
Glancing at the gauzy gray outline of the house, the man feels an instant of intruding fear. ‘But the motel would be more comfortable,’ he says.
‘Well, see, the only thing is,’ Manny hears his own words in shock, ‘see, I gotta get home early before my old lady calls the pigs to pick me up again.’
‘You're married?’ Stuart asks incredulously.
‘No, no, man,’ Manny says with impatience. ‘My old lady—my mother …’ Rage clutches him: His mother! The cops! The interrogation at the detention home! The angry light under which he was questioned, beaten! And for what reason?
‘You mean you're hiding in that house? You ran away?’ Curiously, Stuart is even more excited now. Desire smothers fear.
‘Kind of, uh …’ Manny doesn't know what to say. Will the man be frightened now? Manny adds: ‘Tomorrow, man—like I could meet you tomorrow, and then we'd do the motel.’
Stuart smiles. Then fear recurs on the surface of desire. Quickly it drowns in longing. ‘Okay,’ he agrees, ‘the house over there—and the motel tomorrow.’
‘Outasite,’ Manny says.
In the alley: Shell, Cob, and Jerry climb swiftly through the window, into the empty house. They move through it, along the hall. Into the living-room: darker now. In the darkness, the three wait quietly pressed against the walls.
Outside: Excited, happy, Stuart follows Manny. ‘I bet a lot goes on inside that house,’ he says.
‘Yeah, Stu,’ Manny says, and laughs.
Through the window, they enter the dark house. ‘I can't see a thing,’ Stuart says. Now his burgeoning desire has conquered all fear.
‘Follow me,’ Manny says.
Stuart follows Manny's dark shadow along the corridor. ‘Where are we?’ he laughs.
In the living-room Manny leads Stuart tensely to the middle of it.
Suddenly a savage white light crashes on the man's face.
Swiftly abandoning him in the pool of light, Manny flees against the wall.
The blazing white light shatters on Stuart. Off! On! Off! On! He blinks in terror. ‘Manny?’ he calls. His body is seized by icy fear. ‘Manny!’ he calls urgently. ‘Who's holding that light?’ he demands.
Shell continues to aim the flashlight on him. Off! On!—each burst of frozen light like a bullet.
Suddenly Stuart bolts toward the door. Out of the darkness, Cob's hands grab him roughly, push him violently back into the center of the room. Shell's light captures him fiercely again in its glaring, now steady, white eye.
Disgust knives Jerry.
‘Manny, what is this?’ the man yells.
‘The interrogation!’ come Manny's cold words from the dark. ‘Like they did to me.’
Trembling, the man slides against the wall. Jerry sees the desperate shadow. Remembers himself dashing in panic along the hospital corridor, from—to—death. Impulsively he reaches out to hold the man firmly by the shoulders, to contain the man's panic, to calm him.
But frightened by the reaching hands, Stuart breaks away with an anguished gasp.
‘Cool it, cool it,’ Jerry says urgently. ‘You'll be okay; just cool it!’
Aware of Jerry's threatening vacillation and to create the momentum that will erode it, ‘What's your name!’ Shell demands of Stuart, her voice tears the darkness like lightning.
‘Stuart!’ the man reacts. ‘They call me Stu …’ The words are automatic; their familiarity attempts to order this jagged unreality.
Swiftly Shell turns the light on Manny.
Through light-assaulted vision, Stuart sees Manny—and he thinks crazily: He'll help me!
‘That's Manny,’ Shell's voice announces, ‘you've already met.’ Then quickly she moves the light on Cob. ‘And that's Cob.’
Stuart faces the sinister purple gaze. The sunglasses reflect the light in two brutal accusing thrusts.
Shell shifts the light abruptly to Jerry. ‘That's Jerry.’ She holds it on him steadily. Long. Very long. Longer. Much longer than on the others: as if finally he too may be interrogated?
Jerry blinks. The light traps him in the man's panic. Yet excitement bolts: melding with disgust, gnawing into it, conquering it.
‘And she's Shell!’ Cob calls from the darkness. ‘Show him!’ his voice orders.
Slowly Shell holds the light under her chin. Her illumined face is a deliberately distorted apparition. The beautiful features pulled grotesquely by shadows, she looks infinitely evil. ‘I'm Shell.’
The light crashes back on Stuart.
‘Manny, I trusted you!’ the man founders.
‘And I trusted you too,’ Manny's voice breaks as if it isn't Stuart he's speaking to.
‘But I didn't do anything to you,’ Stuart tries to reason.
‘Neither did I,’ Manny's strange voice says. Manny's world: In a vague trance. Another place, another time, other people.
Shell's voice inundates the darkness: ‘Which one do you want, Stu?’
The man knows the night's terror is only beginning.
5
Suddenly Shell turned off the flashlight. Darkness caves in on the room. There's the sound of footsteps shifting, moving in about the man. Now: petrified silence. Stuart stands perfectly still—from where will the assault spring?
Jerry's mind is cluttered. Waves of new excitement roar. At the same time, he wants to flee the terrible scene. Try to help the man? Prove himself strong in this violent initiation? Smash at life? Destroy his own vulnerability?
‘You haven't answered, Stu. Which one do you want?’ Shell's voice is even. At her side the flashlight is a dormant weapon.
‘I don't know what you mean,’ Stuart says quietly.
‘The fuck you don't!’ Cob assaults. He fires brutally: ‘Queer!’
‘Now wait …’ the man starts. ‘You have no right!’
‘Queer!’ Cob repeats in ferocious judgment.
‘You've got it wrong.’ Stuart attempts to shift their intense scrutiny.
‘Sure we fucking have,’ Manny derides, reminding himself that this is his interrogation.
Shell sits on the floor, Manny follows, then Cob: a triangle enclosing the man. Purposely not following them, Jerry remains standing.
‘What do you want from me?’ Stuart remains still, as if any movement may stir the violence out of the dark.
‘What do you want from him?’ Jerry questions aloud. And his mind proceeds silently—and from me?
‘We want to get into your head, man. Into every locked room,’ Shell says.
To Stuart? To me? Jerry wonders. A threat? Every locked room … The uncommitted outsider, he still stands.
Now Stuart's voice comes with deliberate control: ‘I'm leaving. If you try to stop me … There are people outside, they'll call the police.’
‘You try it, and I'll …’ Cob's voice strikes l
ike an iron chain.
Shell says: ‘Diggit, Stu, you know how old these cats are? Sixteen, man. You know what you can get for molesting kids?’ Slowly her voice has risen in anger.
‘I didn't molest anyone!’ the man protests.
Shell turns to Manny. ‘Did he molest you, Manny?’
‘Yeah, man, in the parking lot,’ Manny lies.
‘That's not true!’ Stuart cries.
‘How did he molest you?’ Cob's voice comes.
‘Oh, uh, you know,’ Manny tries to improvise. ‘Like, you know, queer stuff.’
‘That's a lie,’ the man repeats wearily.
‘No, man, I'm not fucking lying,’ Manny tries to say what Shell and Cob want to hear.
‘How did he molest you, Manny?’ Cob insists.
‘You know, man, like he put his hands all over my legs,’ Manny says, ‘and he…’
‘No!’ the man denies. ‘And all of you know they're lies,’ he realizes.
Suddenly Shell flashes the light on: Off! On! Now it remains lighted, an icy white pool enclosing Stuart.
‘What else, Manny?’ comes Cob's relentless questioning, pulling out of Manny the words they all know are untrue.
Manny frowns. Something strange is happening, he's being questioned. Again. And by her silence Shell is agreeing. ‘Queer shit like that, man,’ he says impatiently.
‘Like what?’ Cob insists.
‘Like he touched my fucking prick, man!’ Manny says heatedly.
‘Did he take it out?’ Cob insists.
‘These are all lies! You know they're lies!’ Stuart protests.
‘Did he take it out, Manny?’ Cob persists.
‘Yeah, man!’ Manny shouts. ‘Then he wanted to bring me here to do more…’
Suddenly: ‘You wanted to rape him!’ Shell's fierce words at Stuart are both accusation and verdict.
‘I just wanted to talk to him,’ Stuart says guiltily, ‘because he looked so lonesome standing out there.’
Lonesome! The word lashes at Manny. Intercepting the light, his shadow pounces on Stuart, he stands before the man. ‘Fuck it if I'm lonesome, man!’ he says angrily. ‘I'm not shit-fucking lonesome! I got my friends, man!’
‘Yeah, man, like he's got us … What else did he do, Manny?’ Cob's voice comes hypnotically.
Jerry hears his own voice: ‘He's already told you, Cob.’
‘I want to hear it again,’ Cob says darkly.
Shell glances quickly at Jerry, still standing. She shifts the light on him—the hint of an accusation. Then quickly she flashes it again on Stuart. She whistles. ‘That's heavy shit Manny just laid on us about you, Stu,’ she says. ‘Manny's just a little dude, man; what if we told the pigs that you…?’
‘I'll tell them it's not true,’ Stuart says firmly.
‘They'll believe us,’ Shell says with finality. ‘Now why don't you sit down, Stu?’ Her voice is almost kind. ‘We're not going to hurt you; you're going to stay because you want to stay.’
‘She promises we won't hurt you,’ Jerry underscores, ‘and we always keep our promises.’ He wants to contain the violence, and yet allow the turbulent experience. Finally, he sits down on the floor. Manny sits too.
‘Now sit down, Stu,’ Shell's voice is still assuming the tone of kindness, but she holds the light firmly on him.
Body like ice, Stuart sits down.
‘So, Stu,’ Shell says, ‘you were going to force Manny…’
Stuart interrupts urgently. ‘No! He's the one who was standing there waiting to be approached.’
‘I was just like digging the fucking fresh air, man!’ Manny says indignantly. ‘And you fucking came and propositioned me.’
‘I wasn't going to force him!’ Stuart defends.
‘Look, man,’ Shell says, ‘what it's all about, like, is this cat here, Manny, when he was just …’ Her voice stops abruptly. ‘He was … molested … when he was …’ Again her voice snags. Abruptly, her voice harsh: ‘Tell us about yourself, Stu!’ she commands.
Stuart grasps for anything that may thwart the relentless glare. ‘I'm married,’ he says desperately, ‘I even have a boy; that's why I talked to Manny …’ Immediately he knew he said the wrong thing.
‘You're fucking married,’ Shell is lashing, ‘and you have a kid, and you…!’
Manny's words bolt: ‘You bring your boyfriends to your house, you run your kid out?’
‘Why are you torturing me?’ Stuart says pitifully.
‘To get into your head,’ Jerry echoes, a new meanness churning. To attack life!
Now Shell can finish what she began earlier; her words rush; ‘Like this cat here, man—Manny—like he was fucking molested when he was … eleven. He was molested by a man like you.’ She's making up the story about Manny but suddenly her words tumble out with rage, her voice rising: ‘When he was only eleven! And the creep jumped on him! On a little kid, a child!’ Abruptly, she turns the light off, pulling down the darkness.
‘No, man, it was Cob who was molested,’ Manny begins to banter perversely. ‘Like I remember, the creep tried to fucking rape you, Cob.’
In the darkness, Cob's face turns abruptly toward Manny.
‘Was it you, Cob?’ And Shell laughs, the tension—real or pretended—of the earlier moments snapping.
‘Maybe it was you,’ Cob says to her.
A black shadow over their seated bodies, Shell stands up quickly. She breaks the electric current among them: ‘Do you molest your own kid?’ she thrusts savagely at Stuart. And again the blinding light shoots at him: On!
‘I don't have a kid!’ the man shouts back at her. ‘I'm not even married…’
‘Then you lied,’ Shell accuses.
‘Don't lie to us, man,’ Cob warns.
‘We're the four angels—and we don't dig lies.’ Jerry forces out the words, deliberately overcoming pity.
‘You ever been with a chick, Stu?’ Cob's voice is steely.
‘No,’ the man admits wearily. Blinded by the harsh light, he hears only voices surrounding him menacingly.
‘Diggit, man, the dude's never been with a chick!’ Cob turns derisively to the others. ‘Huccome, Stu? They scare you, man?’
‘I just didn't want to,’ the man avoids their stares.
Shell's light: Off!
‘Why?’ Cob badgers.
The light from a speeding car blazing through the crossed boards slashes the darkness like the blade of a guillotine.
‘My mother …’ Stuart blurts.
The darkness crashes on Jerry. He inhales deeply.
With shocking abruptness: ‘What kind of a shit are you, blaming your mother for what you are?’ Cob demands.
‘I wasn't blaming her!’ the man defends vehemently. ‘I was just going to say she's the only woman I ever loved.’
Jerry stands up. He feels flushed, as if his head will explode. He stands by the window. The boards crossed before it create a trap. The void has been stirred—death is an electrified presence in it—he has to stop the empty whirling. By stirring another's torment? Always before, he felt another's panic—like now with Stuart. The death of his mother shattered his soul, that very vulnerability exposed him to the unfair slaughter. He must conquer the feelings that made him vulnerable, immunizing himself by becoming savage.
Sitting down again, Shell quickly changes the direction of the interrogation: ‘Okay, Stu, so we're like trying to help you get into your head so you can get out of all the bad shit.’ The flashlight: On!
‘But you've got to tell us everything,’ Cob says ominously.
‘What do you want to know?’ the man asks. To get into his head! So much of terror there. No! Suddenly he rushes again toward the door, to Escape into the dark corridor.
Cob grabs him.
Quickly Jerry is up, next to Stuart, both caught in the crystal web of Shell's light now. ‘You promised you wouldn't hurt him,’ Jerry reminds Cob. Then feeling the judgment of Shell's stare, he says, ‘If you hit him, how the hell c
an we get into his head?’
Shell shifts the light away from Jerry; now he stands only in its peripheral glare.
‘Let Stu go, Cob,’ Shell says firmly.
Reluctantly, Cob releases Stuart.
Stuart stands in the white center.
Once again the four are sitting before him, like a terrible jury.
‘When did you know you were queer?’ Cob's words erupt.
Suddenly Shell whirls the light dizzily about the room, pulling objects starkly out of the thick darkness: a broken board, a shatter of glass on the floor, a crumbling piece of wall. Swiftly she drowns the man again in the glare of the lighted flashlight.
‘Why the hell should I tell you?’ Stuart resists.
‘How old were you when you knew you were queer?’ Cob persists.
Silence.
‘Tell us,’ Shell's voice is contained.
‘Yeah, man,’ Manny feels left out.
‘I was your age,’ Stuart says finally.
Silence.
‘How did you know?’ Cob's voice assaults coldly.
‘I just did!’ Stuart says.
‘How!’ Cob demands.
‘I just … I was uncomfortable around girls … I … tried to force myself, but …’ Now Stuart's body is unbearably hot, from the renewed awareness of the accumulated anxiety of years, the constant struggle.
To stop his own thoughts, to move from the edge of the fatal abyss which threatens him: the realization of aloneness, ‘Speak up, man,’ Jerry joins the interrogators. He's aware that Shell has turned, briefly, to face him, as if in welcome.
‘I thought sex was dirty,’ the man says dully.
‘It is,’ Shell says. Then she laughs.
‘When did you first make it with a guy?’ Cob addresses Stuart.
‘I was your age,’ the man answers.
Silence again.
Shell allows it to remain, stirring accusations, verdicts, sentences.
Cob breaks the silence: ‘How did you know?’
‘Why are you torturing me?’ the man repeats.
‘How did you first make it?’ comes Cob's voice.
‘I …’ Stuart is terrified of Cob. If he answers, will they leave him alone? stop stirring the crushing guilt? Guilt … The pattern of his life: desire, fear, guilt. And he's shattered by the enormous truth. Even now, trapped in this unbudging nightmare, even now he feels an overwhelming desire, acutely aware of the bodies of the three youngmen surrounding him.