But with each step, his mind raised a new pro or con in his ongoing internal debate. Could he? Should he? Did he dare to? Theodore had never been anywhere in his entire life, but now, with no forewarning, he was faced with the most important decision of his young life.
Before he had even made it a quarter of the way home, he made up his mind. He also knew that if he didn’t immediately do something to set that decision into action, he could very well back out of it. Throwing his entire life up into the air to see how and where it landed was a terrifying concept, but perhaps his dismissal from Hoffman’s Store was not a bad thing but rather an opportunity he could never provide for himself unless forced to do so.
Theodore turned around and retraced his steps into town. Once there, it was very easy to obtain the information he needed. He then quickened his pace as he walked home. When he and his parents sat down for dinner that evening, he knew it was time to share the events that had transpired.
“Mother, Father,” Theodore started, feeling nervous. When he gave them the news of his termination from Hoffman’s Store, his mother was outraged.
“First thing in the morning, I’m going to that man, and I intend to give him a piece of my mind. Clearly someone needs to remind him of the countless hours you gave to him above and beyond the call of your obligation. It is also clear to me that someone needs to teach him some manners.”
“Mother,” Theodore interrupted. “You may do whatever makes you feel good. But this is just part of my news.”
“There’s more?” his father asked, a look of concern on his face.
“I’ve decided to treat this as a surprise opportunity.”
“An opportunity to do what?” his mother asked.
“I’ve decided to go to New York and join Martin.”
“New York?” his mother said, with less animation and upset than he had anticipated.
“Yes. I’m treating this as a sign that it is time for me to leave home and make my way in this world.”
He had anticipated they would be unhappy with his news. Rather than be upset or sad, however, they simply took the news and added a bit of their own. “Your decision makes a situation we face easier to resolve,” his father commented, a bit cryptically.
“What decision is that?” Theodore asked.
“Your oldest brother approached us about purchasing the farm.”
Theodore had not seen that news coming any more than he had foreseen the sudden change of situation at work. “Oh?”
“We’re not as young as we used to be,” his father explained. “We don’t need this great big house any longer, but your brother has a big, growing family, and he needs more space. I can’t work the fields like I once did, and quite honestly your brother does far more of the actual work than I am able to do anymore. I’ve worked hard all my life. We’re both ready to slow down a bit and enjoy summer days. Feel comfortable sitting by the fireplace in winter reading the newspaper. Doing whatever we want.”
“You’ve both earned that right,” Theodore concurred.
“But we’ve hesitated,” his mother told Theodore, “because we didn’t want to displace you. This is your home as well as ours, and we didn’t want to just throw you out into the cold. We couldn’t do that.”
His mouth hung open in surprise.
His mother continued her explanation. “So with you going to New York, the last issue we had is resolved. It looks like we’re all going to start a new phase of our lives.”
Even though they were not a very demonstrative family, Theodore hugged his parents that night. It was getting late, and he still had much to do, deciding what to take and packing up his other belongings to be moved to his parents’ new home for storage. Theodore didn’t have all that much stuff. His family had never been into accumulating things just to have them, so when he started packing, he found he could get all of his clothes and a couple of books into one bag with no difficulty.
It was late, and he was tired. He needed to be up and out of bed in only a few hours. Theodore lay down, not convinced he would sleep. He had set an alarm to wake him at four so he could get ready to leave no later than five.
His mother was already awake when he staggered into the kitchen at four in the morning.
“What are you doing up?” he mumbled.
“Fixing your breakfast. You can’t go on such a big trip on an empty stomach.” Maybe because it was his last meal with them, but for whatever reason, she had prepared a feast. When he pushed back from the table to go wash up and get dressed, Theodore was absolutely stuffed.
It was with mixed feelings that he put on his jacket and placed his bag beside the door. The only life he had ever known was in this house with these two people. While Theodore was excited to venture out and try life in a new place, he was also sad that to do it, he had to leave behind everything he’d ever known.
His mother hugged him, and they both cried a bit. His father gave him a firm handshake, but Theodore could see that he had a tear in his eye as well.
“You take care of yourself, Son,” he told Theodore.
“Yes, sir. I will. I love you both. Thank you for everything. I’ll let you know where I am as soon as I get settled.”
Theodore left the house that morning, long before dawn, to begin the trek to a new life. When he was at the end of the road that led to his parents’ house, he stopped, turned, and took one more look in the starlight. He suddenly realized this was farewell. If he ever came back, this would no longer be where he’d stay. It was the end of one phase of his life. Time to turn the page and start a new chapter.
Chapter Eight—Theodore Departs on His Biggest Adventure Ever
THE 6:00 a.m. train was on time that cold January morning. Theodore was anxious. He had never been on a train before; in fact, he had never been anywhere that couldn’t be reached by foot or on horseback. He had watched trains come and go, heard their lonesome whistle countless times. But climbing the steps to board a train—that was a new experience.
At two minutes before six, the train slowed to a stop beside the small platform of the railway station. It was the first day of a brand-new year and the first day of an adventure for Theodore.
The year 1903 was officially six hours old. Theodore remembered from just a few days prior when he’d accompanied Martin to the train station to take the same train, that that morning the coach had looked rather full of passengers. But on January 1st, there were very few passengers onboard the train.
Finding a seat was not a problem. Theodore had his choice. He stowed his bag with all his earthly belongings on the rack above and then positioned himself at a window so he could see the world. Of course, at that early hour, he wouldn’t see much because there would be no light in the morning sky for at least another hour. Nevertheless, Theodore wanted to be in position to see when the sun rose that morning.
At six o’clock to the minute, the whistle blew, and the locomotive began to slowly move.
The train made a number of stops at stations equally as small as the one where Theodore had boarded. Uniformly, those stations were also quiet with few if any passengers that particular morning. By the time the sun had risen, illuminating the landscape, Theodore could begin to make out some of the countryside through which the train traveled.
Much of what he viewed out his window looked nearly identical to what he had always known in his small hometown. The day was a mix of clouds and brilliant sunshine. Theodore could hear the wind whistling past his window as the train sped along the tracks from one station to the next. He recognized many of the town names where they stopped, but that was the extent of his knowledge of the places—just names.
One important point Theodore did note was that the farther east the train carried him, the less snow there was on the ground. He had sort of assumed the weather was the same everywhere during the winter. Apparently that was not necessarily true.
After climbing up and across a large mountain, Harrisburg was the first major city his train included on
its daily run toward the east. The train had originated at Pittsburg, which was west of his home.
Other stops had been relatively brief, maybe a total of four or five minutes, but in Harrisburg, the train stopped long enough for passengers to get off and stretch their legs if they so desired. Theodore decided to remain onboard for fear of missing his train. That, plus he knew nothing of Harrisburg, the state’s capital. In school he’d learned a variety of facts and figures and things that were of absolutely no use to him that morning. Since he did not believe he could learn anything worthwhile from walking through the station, Theodore remained in his seat. His seat was comfortable, his coach was toasty warm, so he saw no need to disturb himself.
From Harrisburg eastward, the cities were more frequent and some were larger. While Harrisburg had been good-sized, Philadelphia was by comparison huge. He got a good view of the city as his train entered that station.
When the conductor passed through the coach just before they stopped in Philadelphia, he said to Theodore, “We will be stopped for twenty minutes at Philadelphia. You should get up and stretch your legs. We still have a long way to go. Don’t worry about missing the train. If you stay close, you’ll know when it’s time to leave.”
“Thank you, sir,” he offered, deciding to take the advice.
Theodore didn’t go far or do anything in particular, but it felt good nonetheless to simply walk back and forth along the platform for a few minutes. The station was far different from the tiny station of his hometown. There were many more sets of tracks than the two single tracks beside their local station. The waiting room in Philadelphia, into which Theodore briefly poked his head, was far grander than anything he had ever seen before. There were enough seats in that waiting room for everyone in his entire hometown. And there were so many people, all seeming to know where they were going and anxious to get there. For not the first time that day, Theodore felt scared. What business did he have trying to do something so bold? But before his anxiety could overtake him, he reboarded the train for his journey onward and into another state.
Leaving Pennsylvania, his home for the past twenty years, to enter New Jersey, was an exciting experience. The view outside his window didn’t change all that much. Still, it was a first for Theodore. He doubted either of his parents had ever left Pennsylvania, and he knew that none of his brothers or sisters had ever done so. He felt a swell of pride at the idea that he was the first of his family to leave home and venture so far into new territory.
As his train sped eastward, Theodore felt a counter-force to his excitement. His thrill was offset by an equally strong fear that he was making a horrible mistake. His lack of experience with travel left him constantly on guard against unscrupulous people, and the fact that everything had happened so quickly meant that he had not been able to write to Martin ahead of time to alert him to his arrival. When it came to things to make him concerned, Theodore found no shortage.
Trenton, New Jersey, was followed by Newark, New Jersey, and then as darkness enveloped his train, that portion of his journey was at an end.
“Newark, New Jersey, end of the line,” the conductor called as he walked through the train.
“Excuse me, sir. I’m going to New York. I thought this train went to New York.”
“No trains from the west enter the city. There are only a very few trains, mostly from the north, that go all the way into the city. Most of the trains stop here. Follow the crowd and the signs to the ferryboats. Passage is included in the price of your train ticket. Show that to board. In twenty minutes, you’ll be in New York City.”
“Thank you, sir,” Theodore said as he hurried to retrieve his bag and follow the small crowd of people who all seemed to be moving in the same direction.
While his train had been relatively lightly populated all day long, a number of trains had arrived at just about the same time, so the ferryboat was busy. There were more people onboard the ferryboat than lived in the entire valley his town sat in. Theodore had never seen so many people all together in one place at the same time. It was frightening, exhilarating, and overwhelming all at once.
The trip across the river was remarkably quick. Theodore followed the herd of people who all exited the ferry. He’d asked someone from the crew where he should get off. They had laughed at him and told him there were only two stops—the one where he’d gotten on and the one they were making right there in Manhattan. The man told him the ferryboat just went back and forth across the river all day long. The idea of there being so many people who all wanted to cross the same body of water throughout the day was stunning to him. He was overwhelmed by the number of people it would take to fill the large ferryboat, and even more so when he learned that the ferry went back and forth dozens of times each day. The scale of New York City was unlike anything Theodore had known in Western Pennsylvania.
Theodore walked off the ferryboat with his bag in hand, his hat on his head, and his head held high. Martin had told him that one key behavior to exhibit in New York City was confidence. He’d written to Theodore that those who showed their innocence when it came to the city set themselves up for trickery. He’d assured Theodore that he had never fallen prey to such treatment and actually didn’t know anyone who had, but still he cautioned Theodore to hold his head high and walk like one who owned the streets he navigated. And to the best of his ability, that was precisely what Theodore did that evening.
He had a piece of paper with Martin’s address folded in his pocket. Consulting a large map posted on a wall inside the ferry terminal, he plotted out a route to Martin’s residence. Unsure of the scale, Theodore started walking and found that the city was quite reasonable in terms of distances. In addition, walking gave him an opportunity to take in some of the richness of variety that he encountered at absolutely every block of his journey.
He had never heard so many different languages spoken as he did while he traversed the streets of New York that evening. There were so many people, so many handsome, attractive men of all types imaginable—some swarthy, some refined, others with skin tones that clearly indicated that they were transplanted from some far away land. And one other thing, there was so much mud. He had not anticipated that the city would be so dirty, so muddy.
While Theodore had initially gotten a bit turned around and had gone off in the wrong direction, he found the city easy to navigate, which made his nervousness manageable. Twice he stopped someone to ask if he was indeed headed in the proper direction. The first person confirmed what he suspected. The second person, however, ignored him and pushed past him as if he was not there. Such behavior was never seen in his hometown, where everyone knew everyone else and was always unfailingly polite.
He had not felt tired when he started the walk to Martin’s residence, but by the time he finally climbed the stone steps that led to the front door, Theodore was ready to drop. There had been so much to see, so much to observe, so many new smells, so many new languages to listen to. He had little doubt that he could have made the trip faster, but he had to look, watch, and listen to everything that was new.
Standing at the front door to the house, Theodore was suddenly shaken by a horrible thought—what would he do if Martin was not home? But he quickly realized such thoughts were a waste of his focus and what he should do was ring the bell and learn first what the situation might be.
A woman in her midfifties opened the door and gruffly asked him to state his business. As one who was accustomed to dealing with customers, he would have given the woman a failing grade at pleasantness and at her ability to put someone at ease.
“Martin Fuller, please,” Theodore announced.
“Top of the stairs, down the hall, last door on the right,” she told him as she let him in, then closed the door and retreated to elsewhere in the house.
Following her instructions, Theodore climbed the stairs and walked down a surprisingly lengthy hallway until he reached the designated door. He raised his hand and knocked decisively. When the d
oor swung open, he saw a shirtless Martin, who did not look up from a book he was reading, but simply said, “Jonathan, I told you I was not interested.”
“Good to know,” Theodore said.
Instantly Martin’s eyes jerked upward. “Teddy!” he shouted. “What are you doing here?” He threw himself at Theodore and gave him a big hug.
For his part, Theodore was of two minds. One, it felt good to see his best friend. After a long day of travel and his introduction to an entirely new world, he was comforted by finally finding one point of familiarity. In addition, it felt even better to have his hands on Martin’s bare skin. In all the times they had furtively explored their sexuality, it had been a very long time since they had been able to completely disrobe and explore. Their most recent encounter over Christmas had been quick and furtive—they had grabbed moments when and where they could. As a result, the feel of Martin’s bare skin beneath his hands was a lovely, almost foreign sensation. It was most definitely an inspiring moment.
“Come in! Come in!” Martin commanded.
Theodore entered the room, which was much as Martin had described it—small but pleasant, comfortable in furnishings and environment. Had the temperature not been comfortable, he doubted Martin would have lounged around without his shirt on. His eyes were drawn to two things simultaneously: the room and Martin’s bare chest. Theodore tried to be discreet in his study of Martin’s bare torso, but there was one thing he could not hide, and that was his obvious arousal that was very much in evidence.
Martin closed the distance between them and brought his hand to rest on Theodore’s arousal. “Someone’s glad to see me,” he kidded Theodore.
“Very much so.”
As much as they both wanted to strip the clothes off each other, more important at that moment was catching up on what had changed. Theodore started to tell his story, but Martin interrupted him quickly.
A Night at the Ariston Baths Page 6