TOURIST ATTRACTIONS

by Molly J. Ringle

  My feet seemed to lift from the floor. I leaned on the back of a chair to steady myself, and looked at him. He looked vexed, stealing glances at me between flicks of the knife on the apple slices.

  "I think you're just teasing me," I said, in a low voice, "and it isn't very nice. You know how highly I esteem you, and you're just playing with my head."

  "I tease you quite often," he admitted. "But this isn't one of those times."

  "I find that hard to believe. If I've learned anything from you in the past few months--in all the years I've known you, in fact--it's that I'm not good enough for you. I'm inferior. You're smarter than me and you always will be. That's all you've ever made clear."

  He brought down the handle of the knife with a sharp rap on the cutting board, and looked straight into my eyes. "Then you've learned nothing from me," he said quietly.

  Afraid of letting myself believe it, I slipped back to the doorway and said, "Well...that's awfully gallant of you, Laurence. But you don't have to pretend. You can retract that and I won't hold it against you."

  As I darted out into the corridor and up the stairs, I heard him calling after me, "Eva..." in the same threatening tone as before.

  Trembling, I returned to Room 17 for my overcoat. Most of the tenants had already left; two or three were still asleep in their bunks. If not for them, I might have started muttering aloud feverishly.

  As I pulled my coat out from under a shirt on the floor, the door swung open. I looked up to see Laurence advancing upon me. I took a step backward, but he caught me, cornered me against the wooden ladder of my bunk bed, and kissed me firmly on the mouth. I couldn't move, stunned in disbelief.

  Then he seized me around the waist with one arm, gripped the ladder with the other, and hauled us both up to my top bunk, kissing me the whole time. He might have had more difficulty in this endeavor if I had resisted. But I held onto him, both arms around his neck, and started kissing him right back. He tasted like cinnamon, apples, and butter.

  After dragging me onto the bed, he lay on top of me. It was better than any dream, because it was real. I whimpered against his mouth, and latched one leg around him.

  The kiss gradually ceased, and he lifted his head and smiled. "Believe me now?" he purred.

  I wasn't shouting Victory! in my head this time, nor did I feel squeamishly guilty, though I probably should have. I was flooded with relief and happiness. I felt like dancing, but my bones had turned to jelly and I probably couldn't have stood up even if Laurence hadn't been pinning me down.

  I was in love.

  "Not bad," I answered shakily.

  "Yes." He smoothed loose hairs away from my forehead, and spoke in an undertone in consideration for those still asleep in Room 17. "Not bad for someone who--what was it--'couldn't melt ice cream if you put it in bed with him'."

  I winced. "Oh. Eileen told you that?"

  "Sharon, actually." He untangled my leg from his, pushed himself up onto his knees, and said, "Better go on. You'll be late for work."

  I sat up slowly. "If you were just teasing me..." I began, hard pressed to find words cruel enough for what I would do to him in such an event.

  He let his voice fall to a rare gentle tone. "I wasn't, dear."

  He climbed down the ladder, offered me his arms, and transferred me to the floor. Before letting me go, he added, "When you get back, we'll have some Catholic boys and ghost-seeing girls to discuss."

  "Yes. And some east-coast states."

  "Perhaps so." He pushed me toward the door. "Off with you."

  One of the people in the room, a Canadian fellow, hauled himself out of bed and reached the door the same time I did. He, Laurence, and I emerged in the corridor, an unlikely trio. Laurence nodded to me, touched his brow with two fingers, and strode off toward the back stairs. His apple tarts awaited.

  The Canadian stood a moment blinking and stretching. He had been in the hostel for nearly a month, long enough to know who we were and be confused by us. He looked at me for an explanation.

  "I swear to you," I said, "this is the first time that has ever happened."

  His eyebrows lifted, but he pushed on into the bathroom without a word.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Unexpected Visit (Reprise)

  My coworkers at the Dalrykirk Hotel probably thought I had inhaled nitrous oxide that morning. Nervous giggles spilled out of me at the slightest provocation.

  I poured coffee for a businessman in the dining room, and he said, "Capital, capital, capital." I whimsically took it up and for the next six hours called everything capital. My coworkers didn't know why, and I didn't bother to tell them. "You're not eating much," commented one of them at lunchtime, as I plucked at the edges of a sandwich and sipped a half-full cup of tea. I was fine, I assured them. In fact, I was capital!

  Scrubbing eggs and marmalade off breakfast plates had never been so easy. My mind was in a place that was horizontal and involved Laurence being on top of me. Any stray thought of Tony was quickly shooed away with the mantra, doesn't matter, doesn't matter. My schedule of important things was completely filled with talking to Laurence. Life beyond that would depend solely on the outcome of whatever he had to say. And from the feel of that tongue-laced embrace, it was to be something agreeable.

  The hard heels of my navy-blue flats rang briskly on the pavement as I walked home. It was difficult not to break into a run. The daylight hours were increasing, and the sun was breaking through the wispy gray clouds. I lifted my chin and breathed the cold air, which smelled of buttery, meaty whiskey being distilled--a distinctive Edinburgh smell.

  This city, which had often looked like my self-imposed prison and place of exile, had revived to romantic stature. It was now the city where events had fallen into place that ultimately led to Laurence Hawthorn tackling me on a bunk bed. Laurence, of all people! And I wanted nothing more than to get back to the hostel, kiss him again, and talk to him for hours, over warm apple tarts, about how we had come to feel this way for one another.

  It seemed likely enough to go that way at first. I swept through the glass doors into the lobby, and Laurence stepped forward to meet me, as if he had been standing right there waiting.

  "Hi," I said, shy and school girlish all of a sudden.

  "Hi." He put his hands firmly on my arms to stop me, and said, with a strange smile that I couldn't yet interpret, "You'll never guess who's here."

  I cringed. "Eileen?"

  "No..." There were footsteps on the stairs, and Laurence let go of me and turned to look.

  Tony Pavelich trotted down, causing a severe reaction in my inner organs. In fact, nothing had felt quite like it since Laurence had caught me kissing Gil, that night long ago in October.

  "And there he is," greeted Laurence. "I was just about to tell her." His cheer sounded hollow.

  "Ooh, I get to surprise her this way!" said the gleeful Tony, and came forward to wrap me in a big hug. "Hi, Boogerpants!"

  "Hi," I squeaked. In the corner of my vision I could see Laurence walking away from us, around the front desk, trailing his hand along the counter. He dropped down into the chair and leaned back, resigned to answering the phone if it should ring.

  Sympathy and longing for him overwhelmed me. It was a strange sensation. Up to this point I had mostly been concerned with myself, and how I would handle all my stupid moves. Now my overriding concern was that Laurence might be suffering there in silence.

  "What are you doing here?" I asked Tony, my face squished into his sweatshirt collar. I tried not to make it sound like a demand.

  "Well, it's odd," said the oblivious Tony. He released me and leaned sideways on the front counter. "I didn't intend to come back, but that February 19th date just kept haunting me. I finally decided I had to come spend it here and see what happened. Help if I could."

  "But you're the placebo effect," I said. "Eileen hasn't seen anything since you left." Then I amended, "Of course, it's great to see you."

  He laughed. "I know
, I keep shocking you. It must not be good for your heart."

  I could hardly think of an appropriate answer for that. I stole a glance at Laurence, who met my eyes for a moment and then looked down.

  "Anyway, I just called her," resumed Tony, speaking of Eileen. "She seemed happy to hear from me, not afraid or anything. Said we should all meet up for dinner, if that works for you guys."

  "Sure," I said.

  "Yeah," Laurence echoed.

  "Great! Listen, I'm going to take a shower. All sweaty from the flight-- ick. Dinner's in two hours; Eileen will meet us here." And Tony jogged away, up the stairs.

  Laurence and I watched him go, blankly, then turned our eyes to one another.

  Two baggage-laden travelers were entering the hostel through the front doors. Cathy was approaching from the stairs to pay her week's rent. We had time to say about two sentences.

  "Let's not tell them anything yet," I said.

  He nodded. "Meet me tonight if you can."

  And then Cathy and the travelers were upon us. Laurence turned his attention to them.

  I retreated upstairs and spent as long as I could in the women's bathroom on the third floor--it was sanctuary--washing and fixing my hair for the evening's dinner. I bleakly hoped that there would be some degree of romance in the ordeal, just a handful of longing glances from Laurence, just a few slow nudges of feet under the table.

  But of course he reverted to his statue-like formality. Nobody could have convicted him on any breach of etiquette that evening. A few months ago I might have taken it as a sign that he didn't care, but tonight I admired him for not doing anything to incriminate us.

  Tony and I waited with him at the front desk for Eileen to arrive, all of us in our winter coats and scarves. Tony passed the time by grinning and pinching my face and nuzzling my hair.

  "How could I have wanted to be a priest?" he said, turning to Laurence. He affected an indiscriminate European accent. "Ze wo-man, look at herr! Ze lusciousness of ze fe-male." He cupped my head in both hands for emphasis.

  "You're losing your young mind, Anthony," said Laurence.

  "Yes, that could be." Tony let go of my head and frowned. "So Eileen hasn't seen anything since I left? That's what you said?"

  "Correct," I answered.

  "And I'm the 'placebo effect'?"

  "Well, it seemed that way. Don't go ghost hunting with her; that's all I'm saying. We want to keep her calm." For surely, I thought, she would be upset enough when she learned that Laurence was not gay and had in fact favored me over her this whole time. The days when she considered us her friends were probably about over.

  Eileen strolled in just then, said hello cheerfully, and embraced Tony. She looked beautiful; a trifle thinner than usual, with fairer skin from all this faint sunlight, her black hair shining all the darker against it. I wondered if maybe Laurence had made a mistake about whom he preferred. I glanced at him, but of course his thoughts were impenetrable. He stood with folded arms and a polite smile, every wavy-copper hair in place, absolutely the last person you would expect to exhibit untoward behavior.

  It occurred to me that I was being selfish, brooding over my requited crush on Laurence when Tony had traveled 5,000 miles to make sure Eileen would live through the next three days. I turned my attention to them.

  "I'm almost sure everything will be fine," Eileen was saying, "but, yeah, I'm getting nervous."

  "Well, I'll be around if you want me to be," Tony offered. "I'm not afraid."

  "Thanks. That's very sweet of you. I could probably use the moral support."

  "Hey, imagine how Laurence feels," Tony said. "He's turning 23 that day. Talk about ancient."

  We made our way out the door and toward the restaurant. Eileen and Tony carried the conversation on the walk and all through dinner. I tried to stay involved, but often found my mind drifting.

  Laurence kept his eyes on them, as if he were listening, but said very little. He also drank three glasses of red wine, which was about how much he usually drank in an average month. Both of us ate; I was depressed rather than nervous, and it was easy for me to stuff my face when I was depressed. Laurence was the same way; we had talked about it on one of our walks during the past month. The things I knew about him now were probably more numerous than the things I knew about Tony.

  As for Eileen and Tony's conversation, it was everything I expected: Eileen said that she had been peaceful lately, but admitted some apprehension about the 19th. Tony assured her that nothing would happen and that, anyway, he would be here. Eileen thanked him again, and said she had been considering going back to Canongate Cemetery but didn't know if it was a good idea. Tony thought she should wait till after the 19th; we all agreed with that suggestion. Eileen said she hadn't decided yet where or how to spend the 19th. With us, certainly, but indoors or out? Usual routine or something special? Tony advised that she think on it for the next couple of days and decide when the time came.

  Through all this, my eyes kept pulling toward Laurence, who sat directly across from me at the small square table. Comparisons between him and Tony kept spilling into my mind, and all of them in Laurence's favor. Tony was 21 but still looked 18. I used to find that cute, but now it seemed weak. Laurence, not quite 23, looked sophisticated and mature. He was wearing a brown vest that matched his overcoat and brought out the warm tones of his hair. British pennies of the same color glimmered from his oxblood leather loafers. Tony hadn't even bothered to tuck his black turtleneck into his trousers, and his socks were white--white, with a black shirt. Did I teach him nothing?, Laurence was probably thinking.

  There was a hazardous moment only once, when Tony touched the gold bracelet on my arm and said, "Cool. I don't remember that."

  "Laurence gave it to me for Christmas," I mumbled.

  Eileen leaned closer to look. She had seen it before, but not lately. "It really is pretty," she said. "He is so sweet." And she pushed her palm against Laurence's arm, smiling at him. He rolled his eyes tolerantly. And then she cast me a quick, arch glance. It clearly insinuated, Gay boys do know how to choose jewelry, don't they?

  I looked away, for I would certainly have burst into manic giggles otherwise. Laurence filled the space by asking Tony something about Wild Rose. The topic swept past.

  It seemed an eternity waiting for Eileen to go home that night, and then waiting for Tony to decide he was tired. But finally, in the hostel kitchen after reheated apple tarts with fresh glaze, Tony stretched across the table and said he was exhausted, and gave me a kiss goodnight. Laurence had put him in a room on the second floor. He had lied for me, or for his own satisfaction, and said Room 17 was full, when in truth it was not. Funny how a small act of vindictiveness could signify love.

  I changed into my nighttime T-shirt, boxer shorts, and thick socks, and lay awake in my bed for half an hour, after which I decided that enough time had elapsed for Tony to be asleep. Then I kicked away the duvet, slipped out of bed, and went up the stairs to Laurence's attic room.

  This time, when I knocked, he didn't ask who it was. He opened the door without a word, let me in, and locked the door behind me. He too was dressed for bed, barefoot with pajamas just as he had been on my last infamous stay in his room. I sat on the arm of the sofa and watched him.

  "How you holding up, sweetie darlin'?" he asked.

  He was within arm's reach, so I caught hold of his pajama shirt and pulled him closer, and hugged him around the chest. My ear pressed against the thin flannel; I could hear his steady heartbeat. He held me there for a moment, then picked me up, and seated himself on the sofa with me on his lap. He latched his arms around my waist.

  "Such timing that boy has," I said.

  "He's either allied with God or with Satan," Laurence agreed. "And whichever it is, they're serving him well."

  "What would you have said to me when I got home, if he hadn't arrived?"

  "I would have asked what you plan to do about him."

  "Don't you know I would choose y
ou?"

  He shrugged modestly. "I don't presume to know. But I wouldn't have done that stuff this morning if I hadn't been 99 percent sure."

  I became skeptical. "Come on, I wasn't that obvious. You were honestly 99 percent sure?"

  "97.4 percent, actually. I was in a gambling mood." He tightened his hands for a second, to tickle me. "And groping an innocent boy in his sleep does count as 'obvious,' by the way."

  "All right. Well, here's my answer: I'm willing to leave Tony, but not if you're moving to Maine."

  "I'm willing to stay in Oregon, but only if I have a good reason," he responded.

  "Is being groped a good reason?"

  "It's a start."