Moving in Rhythm

by Dev Bentham

  Mark wrinkled his forehead. “Um, sort of. It’s complicated.”

  When he didn’t go on Claire asked gently, “You like him, right?”

  Mark sighed. “What’s not to like? He’s beautiful and brave and funny and outgoing. Everyone likes Seth.” He raised his eyes to meet Claire’s. “That’s not what you’re asking, though, is it? Yes, I like Seth. A lot.”

  She smiled. “So what’s the problem? Did he turn you down?”

  “Yes, no, sort of.” He took a deep breath. “I’m the problem. He thinks I’m straight, that I’m married to Lisa.”

  Claire’s eyebrows wrinkled. “So tell him you’re not.”

  “I can’t.” Mark slapped his forehead. “When he’s around I turn into this sputtering, inarticulate idiot who can’t form complete sentences. I wanted to tell him this afternoon but I couldn’t get it out. That’s why I kissed him. But now he thinks I want to cheat on Lisa with him and it’s all a huge mess.”

  Claire stared at him. “Back up. You kissed him?”

  Mark lowered his hand to the table and nodded, the memory flooding him in a sudden rush. “Yeah.”

  “And then?”

  He shrugged. “He said ‘no, thank you’ and we served cake and ice cream.”

  Claire gave a low whistle. “That’s why you looked so dazed.”

  Mark stared bleakly into his tea.

  Claire tapped the table with her fingernails. “Do you want me to tell him you’re available?”

  He looked at her, hope blossoming in his chest. Then he shook his head. “And what would I do then? I’m telling you, I can’t get out two words together when I’m with him. Damn it, I’m thirty-four years old and this isn’t seventh grade. I have to get past it on my own. Or forget the whole thing.”

  Claire stayed silent, watching him. When she spoke again her voice held a quiet power. “Forget what, that you’re gay? You are gay, aren’t you?”

  He nodded, unable to look at her.

  “And Lisa doesn’t know. Your brother?”

  He shook his head.

  “Your parents?”

  He cleared his throat. “My mother died giving birth to Pete and my father passed away two years ago. He, uh, he died thinking I would probably marry this woman named Ruth. It was his death that made me finally tell Ruth I wouldn’t, couldn’t marry her.”

  Claire looked puzzled. “So you and Ruth were engaged?”

  Mark ran a hand through his hair, that particular shame welling up again. “Ruth and I were friends during college and afterward she assumed we would end up together, living in some subdivision with kids, cats and dogs. We used to have dinner together a couple nights a week, catch a movie, walk the dogs, that sort of thing. We never…” He spread his hands.

  “Then why did she think you were together?”

  He sighed. “Because she comes from a very religious family and thought I was a gentleman. Some gentleman.”

  Claire shook her head. “And you’ve never had a relationship with a man?”

  Mark smiled ruefully. “Define ‘relationship.’”

  “Ah.” Claire sipped her tea.

  Mark stared at the table, overwhelmingly sad. Finally he looked up at Claire. “I’d decided on a life alone and was doing a pretty good job of it before Pete called, asking me to come down here. I live alone, work alone. There’s no reason for me to spend time with anyone. It’s safer that way.”

  Claire stood, filled the kettle and set it on the burner to warm. Mark watched her, uncertain what happened now. People always said it was good to talk things out. Okay, so he’d talked. Why didn’t he feel any better?

  When the kettle whistled, Claire refilled the teapot, adding another tea bag before settling back into her chair. She rested her elbows on the table, her chin in her hands, and looked at Mark. “You want my advice?”

  He nodded.

  “All right, here it is. The first thing you need to do is come out to yourself.” He started to protest but she raised her hand and went on. “I mean really come out, not act like it’s some secret part of yourself you can tuck away and ignore. I’m not telling you that you have to come out to anyone else—that’s always a personal choice. But you need to know, and maybe even like, who you are.”

  Mark grunted. “It’s not like I’m holding out for the girl of my dreams.”

  “No.” She poured them both more tea. “But you’re not exactly spouting gay pride either, are you?”

  He shrugged, acknowledging the point. “So what if I come out to myself, as you say? How’s that going to help me not have a panic attack around Seth? It isn’t only him. It’s any attractive man. The official diagnosis is pathological shyness.”

  “You’re not shy around me.” She smiled.

  He shrugged. “Evidently you’re not the relevant stimuli. As my last shrink explained it, I’m lucky. I only freak out in crowds, by which I mean rooms containing more than three or four people, around authority figures and with anyone I find sexually attractive.”

  She grimaced. “That’s awkward.”

  He shrugged again. “It could be worse. Some people with my issues are terrified all the time.”

  Claire thought for a moment. “Hey, thanks for coming to my party. It must have been difficult.”

  He grinned. “You know, the whole encounter with Seth was so intense I didn’t even notice the other people. So you see, coming out isn’t my only problem.”

  She gave him a half smile. “Maybe so. But it could be that if you get through your internalized homophobia you won’t be quite so scared.”

  Mark snorted. “That’s the second time today someone accused me of homophobia. I’m not going to kiss some guy to prove I’m not.”

  Claire’s eyebrows lifted. “Some guy? Right. Look, we live in a homophobic world. It takes some effort to move beyond that. Maybe it’s time you manned up.”

  “Thank you, Sarah Palin. And do you have a plan for how I should do this?”

  Claire leaned back in her chair. “All I can offer is a few suggestions from my own experience. I was twenty-two when I came out and still remember how terrified I was the first time I bought a book with ‘lesbian’ in the title. I also had a hard time entering a gay bar at first, but I suspect you’ve already crossed that hurdle?”

  He shuddered. “Yeah. I’m done with anonymous sex.”

  She laughed. “See, and when I think of a gay bar I think of dancing with my sweetie. Silly me.”

  The heat of a blush warmed Mark’s face. “I didn’t…”

  She waved him away. “It’s okay. Maybe it’s that I’m a woman, but it seems so dehumanizing.”

  He nodded. “It can be.”

  “So try the bookstore. Or we can go out for coffee and you can talk loudly about your boyfriend. Coming out in public the first time gave me quite a charge. Who knows, maybe by June you’ll be ready to march in the Pride parade.” She grinned at him.

  He couldn’t help smiling back. “I don’t have a boyfriend to talk about and I can’t see myself doing that even if I did. Parading is way outside of my comfort zone. But maybe I can buy a book.”

  Claire set her teacup down and gave him a challenging smile. “I dare you to go to a bookstore, stand for at least ten minutes in front of the gay-and-lesbian shelf, pulling out the most outrageous books you can find. Then you have to buy not one, not two but three books with ‘gay’ in the title. Do it before the next Zumba class.”

  “I can’t go back to Zumba. Are you crazy?” Mark gaped at her.

  Claire shrugged. “Maybe you can, maybe you can’t. First you have to buy the books.”

  Mark closed his eyes. A wave of fear washed through him.

  “Here’s the thing,” Claire whispered. “You have to decide whether it’s worth it, whether he’s worth it. You’re standing in the closet doorway and you have to decide whether you’re going back in or you’re coming on out.” She reached over and patted his hand. “It’ll be okay. Trust me. We’ve all had to go through it s
ometime.”

  Mark swallowed. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

  Claire hooted. “That, my dear, is the least of your worries. Strong, silent beefcake is so his type. Besides, I’ve seen how he looks at you. Now toddle on home and think about that. It’ll give you the courage you need to face the big, scary gay-boy monster in your head.”

  Chapter Six

  Monday morning Mark returned from the gym to find Lisa slumped at the kitchen table, staring red-eyed into her tea. Pete. His heart sank and for a minute he couldn’t speak. Finally he asked, “What’s up?”

  Lisa looked up at him, her smile tight. “We were supposed to talk this morning but it looks like there’s an information blackout.”

  Mark exhaled. That was definitely not the worst thing he’d imagined. “Do you know why?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe an attack. Could be someone in the unit died and they’re trying to find family to notify.” She looked up at him. “Not my favorite scenario. But it might be that some senator is visiting the airfield or a kid posted inappropriate stuff to his Facebook page. It’s the military—they get to cut off communication whenever they want.”

  Her bitter tone surprised him and he realized that in the weeks since Pete’s deployment they’d pretty much avoided the topic whenever possible. “Does this happen often?”

  Again she shrugged. “Depends. I’ll probably hear from him in the next couple days. But meanwhile, it sucks.”

  Mark reached across the table and patted her hand. “Keep me posted, okay?”

  She smiled crookedly. “I have to tell you that it’s great, but weird, that you’re here. You look so much like him that sometimes when I come in the kitchen it’s like…” She paused and took a deep breath. “It’s hard because I thought we were done with this. When we lived on base I sort of got used to the military life. No, that’s not true, you never get used to it. But I had all these other wives around me who were going through the same thing.”

  Mark reached to pet Belle. “Maybe you should call Claire.”

  Lisa’s brow wrinkled. “Claire? Why?”

  Mark scrambled. Maybe he wasn’t so good at secrets after all. “Because, well, didn’t you say that some of the women at the party were connected to the military? Maybe Claire could put you in touch with one of them.”

  “Yeah, I forgot about that. Good idea.” She looked down at her belly and her eyes teared. “You know, we swore we weren’t going to start a family until he could be home. And when he transitioned to the reserves I somehow thought it would be okay.”

  Belle ambled over and laid her head on Lisa’s thigh. Lisa smiled and patted her absently.

  Mark stood, unsure what to do. All this human contact was so messy. “Breakfast?”

  Lisa sniffed, wiped her eyes, straightened her shoulders and smiled a little stiffly. “That sounds great.”

  Brave girl. No wonder Pete fell in love.

  Lisa cocked her head. “So how was your date with Claire?”

  Mark stifled a groan. “It wasn’t a date. Don’t hold out any hope there, Lisa. It’s not going to happen.”

  Lisa sighed. “That’s too bad. She’s such a nice person and I really, we really, want you to be happy.”

  Mark closed his eyes. “You aren’t discussing my love life with Pete, are you?”

  She blushed. “Of course we talk about you. Although if it helps, Pete’s always telling me we should mind our own business. But it isn’t like he has tons of other family members and everyone on my side is happily hooked up, although my sister’s marriage is pretty rocky so we talk about that too. It’s what family does.”

  Mark shook his head. “Well in my case you can stop it. There’s nothing to talk about.”

  Lisa smiled. “Mark, honey, there’s always something to talk about.”

  * * *

  Her first student on Monday arrived promptly at 3:30 p.m., a serious ten-year-old girl with long, straight black hair. She reminded Mark a little of that Addams Family kid, the creepy one played by Christina Ricci in the movie. He preferred to be gone by the time she arrived.

  Rain beat upon the car roof as Mark and Belle drove downtown. She looked expectantly out the window as they neared the turnoff to the dog park.

  “No, girl, we are not going there. You’re getting a rest day whether you want it or not. I’m taking a break from dog cleaning. And none of that,” he added as she gave him her best pleading, abused-puppy look.

  He parked in front of the only independent bookstore in Lacland, an unpretentious storefront downtown next to the Rise and Shine Café. “Wait in the car,” he told Belle. “And if you’re good I’ll let you hang your head out the window on the way back.”

  The bookstore was lighter inside than he’d expected. Somehow he’d pictured dark aisles of books smelling of mold and dust. Instead, warm light suffused the wide aisles and he could smell strong coffee and cinnamon from the tiny coffee bar on one side of the store. An ancient hippie guy sat in one of the overstuffed chairs, balancing a coffee cup on his knee while he perused a thick tome. The young woman behind the counter smiled a greeting at Mark and went back to her paperwork.

  A middle-aged woman scanned the fiction titles. In the children’s section a mom read to her toddler and a couple of girls in school uniforms played on the floor. A bespectacled young man lounged against a bookshelf in the history section.

  Mark took a deep breath, glad that at least the bookstore wasn’t crowded. He didn’t need any extra stress. Wandering slowly through the aisles, he wondered where exactly one found the gay section. Was there really such a thing? He blanched at the idea of asking—probably exactly the visceral response Claire wanted out of him.

  Finally he found it, in the middle of the “studies” aisle, a slim column of shelves between ethnic studies and Jewish studies clearly marked Gay, Lesbian and Transgendered Studies. He checked his watch. Seemed an easy assignment: ten minutes looking at books. Half the titles included the word “pride.” The other half probably detailed the prejudice. He pulled a book at random and opened to pictures of half-naked men in leather or tutus, women on motorcycles or marching under rainbow banners. Everyone smiling. He glanced up as the woman from the fiction section rounded the corner. His heart rate jumped, he could feel the flush creeping up his face. Sweat trickled down his back. It was hard to breathe.

  But as he stood, refusing to let himself shut the book or move away from the section, he experienced something new beneath the palpitations. A righteousness, maybe even defiance. For a fear, and Mark considered himself a connoisseur of social terror, this one had a different texture. Of course, it probably helped that she’d glanced at him once, smiled briefly and began scanning the Jewish books.

  Mark put the book away and pulled out another. The cover showed two men kissing. Mesmerizing. He grabbed another, suddenly hungry for more. To hell with three books—he wanted a shelf full. He chose five with “pride” in the title. He knew all he needed to about shame. His heart pounded as he approached the counter, but nothing he couldn’t handle, and that alone was exhilarating.

  The clerk smiled at him as she scanned the books. “Find everything you needed?”

  “Um, yeah.” He grinned, even as his hand shook passing her the credit card. “Thanks.”

  Out in the car he hugged Belle. “I did it.” He riffled in his pocket for his cell and dialed Claire. Her answering machine came on. “Hey, Claire. It was okay. Great, even. I still need to figure this stuff out, so I’m not going to Zumba, but that was a great idea. Thanks.”

  He clicked the phone closed, put the car in gear and drove toward home, alternatively patting Belle and his bag of new treasures.

  Mark was surprised to see Claire’s car parked outside the house. He grabbed his bag of books and followed Belle up the walk. Light streamed from the kitchen window, through which he could see Claire standing by the stove.

  As Mark opened the door, Belle loped over to Claire, her body wagging and tongue lolling in greetin
g. Mark’s heart fell at the look on Claire’s face. “What’s wrong?” he managed to croak.

  “I’m glad you’re home.” Claire stepped forward and hugged Mark briefly. “She’s all right but has some light bleeding, which is not a good thing this late in her pregnancy.”

  Panic spiked through Mark. “We should take her to the hospital.”

  “Tomorrow. I called her doctor. He’ll see her first thing in the morning but in the meantime I put her to bed.” She waved her hand in the direction of the stove. “I was just making some tea to take in.”

  Mark nodded. “I can do that.” He opened the cupboard and pulled down tea mugs. “Any word from Pete yet?”

  Claire shook her head. “All’s still quiet on the Eastern front.”

  Mark’s hand shook as he reached for the tea bags. “Maybe that’s for the best right now. This could freak him out. Our mother—”

  Claire patted his arm. “I know. But Lisa will be fine. I’ve got Grace asleep on the couch and if it’s okay with you, I’ll spend the night here. I’ll keep an eye on her and if need be, we can run her into the emergency room.”

  Mark leaned against the counter and closed his eyes. “I wish Pete was here.”

  The kettle started to sputter and Claire poured hot water into three mugs. “I’m sure Lisa does too. But we’ll have to do our best to make it up to her.” She nodded toward the bag of books Mark had flung on the counter. “Been shopping?”

  He blinked, looked at the bags and tried to smile. “Yeah. Let’s talk about it later, though.”

  Claire nodded and handed him two tea mugs. “She’s in the bedroom. I’m sure she’d love to see your familiar face.”

  He grunted. “What she’d like to see is the other version of my face, but you’re right. We’ll all have to make do.”

  Lisa lay in bed, pillows under both her shoulders and knees. She looked pale and anxious. Mark tried to smile as he held out her teacup. “Hey, you know I was hoping to get out of Zumba class tomorrow, but you didn’t have to go to these extremes.”

  She laughed and accepted the tea. “I do what I can. At least I think I’ve managed to get you a date for tonight.”