by Kyle Baxter
After jumping up, Enrico ran to retrieve the ball, but before he threw it again, Joel’s phone rang. The ringtone was a catchy little pop song. He loved it and a smile stretched over his face. It still slaps. The smile faded when he remembered who he assigned the chime to.
The ex is calling . . . “That’s Seth.” He cringed.
“Decline it.” Enrico turned the stress ball over in his hand before putting it in its tee, his paperclip holder.
“I can’t,” Joel stammered. His hand shook as he raked it through his dark, wavy hair. “I shouldn’t. I mean, he’s trying to be a friend.” He didn’t want Seth back; he was over him. He told himself that over and over. But Seth was something. Joel didn’t want him, but he didn’t want to let him go either. Then he really would be alone. Shit, I’m a mess.
Enrico stared at him over his computer. “He moved across the country for a new job and broke up with you. He’s not a friend.”
“I know . . .” Joel ducked his head. He felt heat color his face. “It’s just . . .” His finger hovered over the decline button and he faltered. He wanted to just ignore the call. But Seth was comfortable and letting go was so hard. Why is it so hard?
“Even with all your plans of staying together and doing long distance, he broke up with you and found a new boyfriend in a month. One month!” Enrico smacked his hand down on the desk.
“I know . . .”
Enrico leaned forward and glowered at him. “The way he just keeps you hanging on is manipulative. If Seth doesn’t want to be with you, he should let you go.”
“Enrico, I know,” he shot back. The man was right, and it was so annoying. It’s not that easy! After jumping out of his seat, he walked away. He felt Enrico frowning at him. Thumbing open his phone, he let out a long breath, braced himself, and accepted the call. Dammit.
“Hey, Seth, what’s up?”
Chapter Two
I Try
Joel made his way up to the Village after he finished work for the day. Crossing Christopher Street, he strode up 7th Avenue toward 14th. Once a week he visited Robert, and once a month they did Movie Night.
A retired cater waiter, Robert worked at a large hotel in Midtown for over thirty years. That was how Joel knew him, Enrico, Sheryl, and Alex. They all worked there, together. Joel was at the hotel for ten years, long enough to be vested in the Union pension program, before he followed Enrico and made the jump to Five Points. That was almost a year ago now.
Robert retired over two years ago, and Joel still missed working with him. The man took him under his wing, made him one of his ducklings.
On 12th Street, he made a left and found the familiar gray building. Security waved him through. Up the elevator to the fifth floor, he pulled off his light jacket before knocking on the apartment door. After a moment, he heard shuffling. Robert opened the door in a kimono, his face wet from tears.
“Are you okay?” Joel leaned down and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“I’m just fine, duckling. Come in, come in.” Robert waved him through and closed the door behind him.
Joel rubbed the older man’s shoulder. “Why are you crying?”
“Oh, I was watching an old movie.” Robert waved it off with a flick of his wrist and walked away. “No big deal. What’s in the bag? Is it dinner?”
“Yes, I have takeout from Campanale.” Joel held up the bag and put his coat on a hook in the entryway. He didn’t buy Robert’s explanation about why he was crying. That’s bullshit. I’ll ask him about it after dinner. Robert’s always more talkative with a little wine in him.
“Ooh, thank you.” Robert’s voice dropped to a monotone. “‘Enter freely of your own will, and leave some of the happiness you bring.’”
“That’s . . . ?”
“Dracula,” Robert said.
Joel’s eyes were pulled to the far wall of the living room. A new four-foot-by-four-foot painting hung there, a close-up of a woman in black and white with bold color highlights slightly off-register. “Who is that?”
“That’s Josephine Baker. She was an icon, an American-born French entertainer, French Resistance agent, and civil rights activist. She was amazing.” Robert folded his arms and stuck out his chin. “We’ll go over her story at some point.”
“You made this?” Joel walked close and examined the piece.
“I did. It’s a take on Warhol’s Marilyn screen print.” Robert turned back to the counter and took the food out of the bag. “Mine is an oil painting. I don’t have any way to make a silkscreen that large.”
“That is really good.” Joel joined him at the kitchen counter island and pulled out a barstool from under it. A single, Robert decided against a kitchen table long ago and instead made the dining area an addition to the living room.
“What did you bring? Italian, obviously, but . . .” Robert smiled, a warm glint in his eye.
“Shrimp linguini.”
“Oooh, deliciousness,” Robert hissed and pulled flatware from the drawer. Joel reached behind him to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer while Robert poured himself a glass of wine. The two men ate out of the matching aluminum tins of takeout, munching thoughtfully for a few minutes. “So, how is work?”
Joel bobbed his head. “I’m in trouble.”
“I knew something was up.” Robert speared a piece of shrimp and twirled his fork in the noodles. “You have that look on your face. Still having problems sleeping too much?”
Joel grunted and set his fork down. He picked up a slice of garlic bread and examined it. “Yeah, the alarm just isn’t waking me up.” He took a bite. “But I hope I’m onto a solution.”
“Have you thought about seeing a doctor?” Robert sipped his Chardonnay.
“I’m going to look into it.” Joel picked up his beer and waved it. “My boss told me to get my shit together before I come back from vacation.”
“Not unfair. You leave Friday?”
“Yes, I can’t wait for the London part. I’m planning to spend it all in the British Museum. My hotel is only a few blocks away.” Covering his mouth, Joel let out a little burp. “The latter part with my family though . . .”
Robert jabbed him in the bicep with a finger. “Duckling, you haven’t been home in over two years. You can sacrifice three weeks for a vacation your father—”
“Stepfather,” Joel interjected.
“—is paying for.”
“But I want to go to Mykonos,” Joel whined.
Robert only rolled his eyes. “Circuit queen.”
Pointing a fork at the older man, Joel raised an eyebrow. “I want to go for the history. Circuit parties were your jam.”
“Guilty as charged.” Robert fanned himself. “Oh, those were the days!”
“How come you never settled down?” Joel took another gulp of his lager.
“I am settled down, duckling.”
Joel leaned forward on his elbows. “I mean with someone.”
Robert sat back and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone ask me that.”
“You’re a handsome guy. You had a good job.”
“I was a waiter in a hotel, not one of those A-group queens.” Robert shook his head. “Not exactly high on the list of hot prospects, and I was never good-looking.”
“Robert,” he said warningly. He didn’t like the man’s self-deprecation. It reminded him too much of himself. And Joel knew A-group queens, homosexuals who thought they were better than others due to birth or circumstance. He had no patience with them and a scowl crossed his face. Seth was one of those.
Like his father, Seth was never happy with Joel’s job, even when he moved to event planning. They thought it was beneath him. “But you’re still just a waiter,” Seth had groused. And Joel realized then he would never be good enough. Even so, he held onto that relationship way too long after its sell-by date.
“Now, I was astounding to look at, that I’ll grant you, but never handsome.” Robert struck a pose like he was vogueing
. “Tall and dark, and I had one of those really ‘hard-to-believe faces. It’s sensual, sexual; at times, it’s just downright hard-to-believe.’—Sandra Bernhardt.”
Joel looked heavenward. “You didn’t answer the question, queen.”
“I don’t know, Joel. There were guys interested but never one I really wanted. For a long time, I was too busy running around partying. Not everyone pairs up and settles down. It doesn’t make them less worthy.”
Joel put a hand over Robert’s. “I know that. I just think you’re wonderful and I don’t understand how someone didn’t scoop you up. I would have.”
“If I were thirty years younger, you’d be in so much trouble, young man. Give us a hug.” Robert reared up. When he broke away, his eyes searched Joel’s face. “You still look stressed, duckling. What else is going on?”
Joel let out a long breath. “Seth called.”
Robert snorted and sat a little straighter, pulling his robe tighter as he did. “What did she want?”
“Nothing, he never wants anything,” Joel mumbled. It was true. Seth only called and made small talk. Joel didn’t like small talk. His side of the conversation was grunts and the odd “uh-huh.” “He just called to tell me about his life on the West Coast, I guess . . .”
“Why do you do this to yourself?” Robert reached over and poked Joel’s stomach. “Why do you take his calls, fool?”
Joel flinched, then went back to picking at the remains of his food in the to-go box. “I have no idea . . . Enrico asked the same thing.”
“I always liked that boy,” Robert said. “Tell me. Do you want to get back together with Seth?”
“No,” Joel said firmly and maybe too quickly. “That I do not want.”
“So, why do you do it? Are you scared of being alone? Of ending up like me?” Robert asked, his voice growing soft.
Joel did not meet his eyes. Ouch.
“It’s okay. I get it. I understand being scared, but you can’t close yourself off. You got your heart broke. It was a big deal, but it happens to everyone. What matters is what you do with it. Everything in life is a risk. Not doing anything is a risk too. It’s like that old song says, ‘Even if you chose not to decide, you still have made a choice.’ It’s up to you.” Robert rose from his seat and picked up the plates. “And that’s all I’m going to say about that.” He rinsed off the dishes in the sink. “For now.”
❖
After dinner, they popped popcorn and settled in to watch tonight’s offering. Movie night was Robert’s attempt to share gay culture with his young friends. This evening it was the camp classic Phantom of the Paradise with Paul Williams. Joel had no idea who that was, and Robert told him that was a damn shame.
“How is Larry doing?” Robert asked during a potty and refreshment break. Larry was a sometime accompaniment to Movie Night, as was Alex Capili before he moved back home.
“Out with his new boyfriend.” Joel returned from the kitchen with a new beer and the bottle of wine.
Robert tittered. “Ooh, I hope this one lasts.”
“Me too. But he gets wrapped up too quickly and burns out.” Joel poured more wine into Robert’s glass. “Before you know it, it’s over.”
“That’s good, every now and then, but you’re right. You’re just the opposite. You hold on too long.” Robert sat back, taking the Chardonnay from Joel.
Joel took a long drink of his beer. “Holding on would be fine, but I always seem to pick the wrong guy to hold onto.”
“Been there, done that, and bought the T-shirt.” The older man straightened his robe. “Duckling, why don’t you have friends?”
“I do. I have Larry—” Joel sputtered and set his beer on the coffee table.
“Who always has a new beau.” Robert frowned and put Joel’s beer under a coaster for him.
Joel pursed his lips and fidgeted. “Then there’s Enrico and Alex—”
“Alex and Enrico are work friends.” Robert leaned close, put a hand on his young friend’s arm, and squeezed.
“And Movie Night friends,” Joel protested and moved away from Robert’s grip.
“Yes, they both were Movie Night ducklings, but you and Alex, in particular, were never close. Temperaments too much alike, if you ask me.” Joel bristled as Robert continued. “Besides, Alex moved away.”
“Did he ever say a proper goodbye to you?” Joel was genuinely curious. He never heard. Five Points held an office party and Robert came, but it was all very . . . sober, like everyone was afraid to address what a gap his moving would leave in their lives, at Five Points and at Movie Night. Joel stepped into his shoes at work, but he was far from filling them. Alex had a way with clients that Joel didn’t.
“Of course, Alex came over for a visit when he picked up his stuff and carted it off to Edgemont or Riverdale or whatever it is . . .” Robert’s voice trailed off. He was being deliberately offhanded about it, but Joel saw the sadness.
“Edgedale.” Joel frowned. Alex owes Robert more than a visit.
The older man noticed his reaction and said, “Dear, he’s only upstate. It’s two hours away. It’s not the other side of the world. He found true love. I’m happy for him. We are happy for him.” It sounded like he was speaking as much to himself as to Joel.
“Are we though? Why were you crying when I got here?” Joel asked.
“Oh, that.” Robert pulled his dressing gown tighter. “When you get to be a man of a certain age, especially my generation, it isn’t always a good idea to go looking up old friends.”
Joel picked through the remains of the popcorn. “I don’t get it.”
Sitting back into the plush couch, Robert took a deep breath and put a hand behind his head. “When I moved here in the early nineties, I lost track of a lot, and eventually all of my old friends. I decided today to look some of them up on the Internet.”
“Looking up friends is good, isn’t it? Am I missing something?”
“Yes, and I am so glad you are, my dear. It’s AIDS, dear. The people I was looking for passed away in the nineties from AIDS—and I never knew.” Robert’s eyes watered. “It sucks to be a survivor sometimes, to just keep going and going, long after people you loved passed away.”
“I’m so sorry.” Joel’s mouth dropped open and he shrank in place. He did not expect that. He never thought of that, never had to. Joel put a hand on Robert’s back and rubbed it. What do I say to that? What can you?
Robert wiped a tear away with a tissue. “It’s fine, really, but I had so many sweet friends, so many handsome boys I fell in love with, and I wonder why I survived. Why did I make it and not them? I made my share of mistakes, took part in risky behavior. I did things I shouldn’t have, but here I am. Why me?”
Joel reached over and pulled the older man into an embrace, and they stayed there for a long time. Robert felt so frail. Was he always this thin? God, I hope he’s okay. I don’t know what I’d do without him.
Finally, Robert let go and said, “You know, you could do with finding some love. I mean, I’m very fond of you, but you need more than me. You need to get out there. Go and make some mistakes.”
“Yeah, well . . .” Joel sat back, beer in hand, and frowned. “You know I hate the bar scene.”
“Then join a club. We’re in NYC. There’re all sorts of opportunities for a young gay man.”
“I have my D&D group,” Joel protested, but in truth, they hadn’t met in a while.
“Something that gets you out of the house, duckling. As Auntie Mame said”—Robert raised his arms in the air—“life is a banquet, and most poor sons of bitches are starving to death!” Putting his hands down, he adjusted his kimono again. He took a dollop of moisturizer from a nearby bottle and rubbed it over his arms and elbows. His skin was a rich umber, deep and yellow-brown. “I’ve known you for ten years and I can tell when you’re not happy. I think a little affair on your vacation would do you a world of good. Get the juices moving. And maybe if you found some purpose and, y’know, got a l
ife, it would solve your sleeping problem.”
“Maybe. I have been feeling kinda lost . . . aimless lately—”
“I know. We all know, duckling,” Robert said sharply.
“—but this vacation is about my family,” Joel protested. “And like you said, I haven’t seen them in a while. I need to focus on them . . . I’m definitely not going to get caught up with some guy during it.” Joel knew Robert had a point, but it didn’t sit easily with him. He was fine, and he didn’t want a relationship. “I’m not ready for another romance yet.” Or maybe ever.
“You’re scared,” Robert said.
“Yeah, I am.” Joel chuckled. “I really put myself out there with Seth and I got burned. You think twice before putting your hand back in the fire.”
Robert leaned back on the sofa and put an arm on Joel’s shoulder. “Why don’t you rejoin that live drawing class, maybe even take up painting again? You’re so talented. It’s time you put yourself out there again.”
“No, that ship has sailed.” Joel blushed. His art career was brief and intense. Robert even bought one of his pieces, and it hung in his bedroom to this day. “But I appreciate the thought. What about you?”
Robert held a hand to his chest. “What about me?”
“You ever think about getting out of the house and getting involved in the community again?” Joel picked at a loose thread on his shirt.
“I did my time. I was an activist during the height of the AIDS crisis, and there’s something I learned when I was going to self-help meetings for my lover at the time—he was a drunk. There’s a principle of rotation, where you step aside and let others take their turn.”
Joel narrowed his eyes at his friend. “I don’t think that means you drop out, just let others lead.”
“Maybe . . .” Robert picked up his glass and finished off his wine. “Okay, here’s the deal. I have been thinking about getting involved—again.”
Joel’s eyes went wide and he sat up. “Really? That’s great! Doing what?”