to do with it,” Ben said. “It’s all about the money, whether I can come up with enough. Yes,” Ben said, “my answer is yes, if I can swing my end financially. I don’t want to be a kept man, Len.” Len leaned over toward Ben and kissed him.
“No, I wouldn’t expect you would,” he said. “We’ll have to spend some time looking for the right place, you know. We can get a decent-sized place, I’m sure. Property is less costly across the Bay.”
Ben got up from the couch. He took the glass and the rose. He ran water into the glass, and put the rose in it. He brought it back into the living room and set it on the table by his favorite chair. “Let me get through my exam,” he said. “I’ll be finished with that tomorrow. Then we can plan how to go house hunting.” He leaned over Len and kissed him.
“Thanks for the rose,” Ben said.
The Quiet Passages
Letters from Osso Del Oso
Ben kept in touch with his professor, John Dilbert Doe. All of Ben’s other acquaintance in Colorado were either childhood companions, known to him only because they had all lived in the same town, or people he had known at the bank. None of these chance relationships survived Ben’s move to the City, nor had he wanted them to. Professor Doe, or “Dill” as Ben called him, was another matter. Dill had shown Ben there was a door on his closet, and a way out. So it was that Ben wrote first to Dill to tell him about Len.
Professor John Dilbert Doe
1868 Forgotten Lane
Greeley, Colorado
April 17, 1978
Dear Dill,
Remember I wrote you about helping with earthquake relief right after I got here? I met a man there, Len DeLys, who was in charge. I only found out later it was because he decided somebody had to be in charge, and took over. Anyway, he directed the emergency hospital set up in the dressing tent for the Carnival Parade. I came to admire his stamina; for an older guy, he could keep very long hours. He’s not bad looking, either.
Well, I ran into him a few months back. He was outside the old auntie’s bar on the Street. He invited me in for a drink. I felt obliged to accept his kindness, since I was thirsty and had no plans.
I felt very strange walking into that group of older men. Many of them ogled me as though they were ready to drool over me. I’m not quite a twink, myself, anymore, but that group sure made me feel like one. Len took a quick look at my face; I suppose my embarrassment showed. “Down Girls!” he said. That got a laugh, and the crowd turned away to leave us to ourselves.
He bought me a drink, and then I bought him one, and he bought me one, and I bought him one, and back and forth. We started off talking about the weather and reminiscing about the quake. When the evening came, he invited me to have dinner with him the following night. We had seafood, and a couple of glasses of wine. I was pretty loose when we got through. We saw The Mikado, in the park. He kissed me, and we went to our separate bus stops. I thought that was the end of it.
About a week later, he showed up at my door, apologizing for not calling, because he didn’t have my phone number. He had a dozen roses to present to me, and an invitation for another evening on the town, to include dinner and a movie. We’ve dated steadily ever since. Next month we plan to find a house together. I’m in love, and, for the first time, I think it’s meant to last.
Vital statistics: Len is taller than I am, over six feet, solid build, with a handsome head of hair and a profile like Michael Caine. He’s “well-endowed,” as well. Face on he’s all himself. He’s a tender and considerate lover, and a persistent one. Be happy for me, Dill.
Please say hello to Hi for me.
Ben
Len and Ben spent several weekends looking for a house across the Bay. They finally found a place that suited them both in Cowpens. It had three bedrooms, a small but well-planned kitchen, a living room, and family room divided by a wide arch, and two baths. It was convenient to public transit for both their jobs. When they had moved in and unpacked all the essential boxes, Ben sat down to write his brother in Colorado.
Hardin Soul
Box 27
Rural Route 2
Berthoud, CO
May 4, 1978
Dear Hardin,
I have found a life’s companion. He is twelve years older than I am, with a strong muscular body and a face that shows his kindness. His eyes are blue-green, and usually have thoughts dancing in them. His hair is the rich brown color of a strong cup of tea. He’s all-around handsome, is what I’m saying. I’m moving in with him at the end of the week. My address will be:
817 Lost Sombrero Lane
Cowpens
Len is well established in his career. He manages events for various clients in the City, events such as street fairs, carnivals, business luncheons for visiting dignitaries, that kind of thing.
I hope you and Enna can come to the City to meet Len. Or, maybe, we can come there. Have a good summer, and write when you can.
Ben
Ben’s letter shocked Hardin. It gnawed at him, and he began to doubt Ben’s many kindnesses toward him. Big brother couldn’t be one of those, those man lovers! It had to be a corruption, maybe something in the water or the lifestyles in the City. What else could have turned Ben?
Enna, Hardin’s wife, was outraged when she saw the letter. Hardin had not intended for her to see it. His shame for his brother was too great. Enna explained it as she explained so many unpleasant things in life. It must be the influence of Satan. She dictated Hardin’s reply. He wrote the three sentences with a heavy heart and a stumbling pen. Then he mailed it to Ben.
Hardin’s reply was a stinging rejection. “We’re all shamed by your behavior. You will burn in Hell. Even a merciful God can’t forgive sodomy!” Merely that; no salutation, no closing, and no date. Ben tore up the letter before Len could read it. Len had brought the mail in, though, and guessed that Ben’s brother had written. Bit by bit he teased the facts out of Ben, and comforted him. Eventually Ben calmed enough to write back to Hardin.
Hardin Soul
Box 27
Rural Route 2
Berthoud, CO
May 21, 1978
Dear Hardin,
Your letter was very harsh. I didn’t know you had such strong opinions. I’m no different than I’ve always been. I thought you knew I am a man for men; I’ve been active since my college days.
Dear brother, I am not going to Hell because I love a man. I do not molest little boys, and I do not expose myself to innocent women in the parks. I am what I am, your brother, who is homosexual. No, I will not change, nor would seeking a lost Jesus change me. If God made me, he made me gay. I still love you, Hardin. Don’t break contact with me.
Ben
Hardin hid Ben’s letter from Enna. Inwardly, confused and disgusted as he was, Hardin felt Enna had pushed him too far. Thereafter he sent Ben a card every Christmas, and Ben sent him one. What Ben could not know was that Hardin sent the cards secretly so his wife, Enna, couldn’t raise a protest.
Gathering
The weeks following the Great Temblor kept La Señora and her volunteers very busy. It was some days before the authorities could entirely organize relief efforts. Had it not been for La Señora, Len DeLys, and others like them bringing together the various volunteer and self-help efforts, starvation and disease could well have destroyed the City.
Slowly, the workload decreased; the homeless found housing, the hungry could again buy and sell in the work places and marketplaces. La Señora returned to helping only the most indigent and undesirable of the human flotsam floating on the City’s sea. Elke and Rosa remained with her, as did Willy.
Elke, between organizing efforts, courted Rosa with gentle persistence. La Señora observed and said nothing. Rosa, whose upbringing had included several doses of restrictive religion, struggled against her attraction to Elke. One evening she came to La Señora for guidance.
“Señora,” she said
, after La Señora had welcomed her in, “I lost my mother many years ago, and I have no one else to turn to. Please be understanding with me.”
“What troubles you Rosa?” La Señora asked, fairly certain she knew what the matter was.
“I have strong feelings, romantic feelings, toward Elke,” Rosa said in halting phrases. La Señora waited for her to go on. Rosa searched La Señora’s face for condemnation; La Señora kept her expression carefully neutral.
“I don’t know what to do,” Rosa said. She spread her hands helplessly.
“What do you want to do?”
“I want to be with Elke, to touch her and have her hold me, and I want to run away, far away.”
“Have you mentioned how you feel to Elke?”
“Oh, no--she might be offended!”
“I somehow doubt it,” La Señora said. “I think Elke is a woman who prefers women.”
“There are women like that?”
“Yes.”
“It isn’t right, though, is it? For a woman to love another woman, that way I mean?”
“It isn’t wrong to love. Turning away from love can be destructive.” La Señora looked into a far distant place. “I turned away from love once, at my father’s urging. I’ve never had another chance to love anyone, romantically, since.”
“You? I thought you were dedicated to God.”
“I’m not a nun, for all I dress like one. I have other spiritual connections, not the expected church connections. I use their uniform simply as a cover in a society that doesn’t understand much beyond its own navel.”
“So, you think I should talk to
Ben Soul Page 39