The Wild Swans

by Peg Kerr

  “Ya waiting for a room?” a voice beside him said.

  Elias’s eyes snapped open; he turned. A man stood beside him, potbelly sticking out over his sarong. He had thinning hair and crooked teeth, and when he smiled at Elias, so wistfully, so hopefully, it almost broke Elias’s heart. “No,” Elias said.

  A puzzled expression drifted across the other man’s face. “Say ... what’re you doing with your clothes on?”

  Elias pushed himself away from the wall. “I’m... going home.”

  The sound of the guitar coming from the living room woke him, soft and peaceful, like a caress. Groggily, he turned to look at the clock. 4:18 a.m. He lay for a while looking up at the shuddering shadows on the ceiling, sketched by moonlight shining through the courtyard trees. A scramble through his memories finally came up with the name of that melody: “Tiny Sparrow.” Sean had played it before. He drew on his robe and padded out to the living room. Sean sat on the couch, silhouetted against the window, his face in shadow. He did not look up or stop playing as Elias came in, which somehow seemed comforting. Elias sat at his feet on the floor, leaned back against the base of the couch, and let the music wash over him. The melody flowed out surely from under Sean’s fingers, a peace offering, liquid consolation, and the knot in Elias’s gut eased in response.

  The song concluded; fingers on the strings hesitated, hovering on the brink of another melody, and then stopped. Sean drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Elias nodded in acceptance. He didn’t reply It’s all right, for it wasn’t, and they both knew it. But he was glad Sean had said it, just the same. It helped.

  They sat together in silence for a long time, as Elias thought back over what had been said in the store. What had happened there, anyway? “Sean,” he asked softly, and hesitated, trying to find the right question. “Do you believe in God?” he ventured finally.

  Sean took awhile to answer. “Five years ago I would have answered, ‘Absolutely.’ Three years ago, I would have said, ‘No way.’ Now...” He sighed. “Now, I’m not sure.” He cleared his throat. “I was in seminary, studying to be a priest, you see.”

  “What?” Elias straightened and looked up at him in astonishment. “A Roman Catholic priest, you mean?”

  “Yes.” As Elias digested this, Sean added, with a trace of sarcasm, “Thank you for not laughing.”

  Images collided in Elias’s mind: Sean straightening up from the harp, face alight from the music as he reached for a bottle of Guinness. Lolling in bed, blinking sleepily as a lizard in the morning light. Typing ferociously at the typewriter, pencil clenched firmly between his teeth. Cruising the baths. “It’s ... not a way I’ve ever pictured you before, I suppose.” He thought of Sean taking him off the street and feeding him a hamburger. Giving him a home. “But I don’t see any reason to laugh. Not at all.”

  “Hmm. Thank you. I think.”

  “So ... what happened?” Elias asked cautiously.

  Sean sighed again. “I fell for another seminarian.”

  “Did you know then you were gay?”

  “Well, yeah, I knew, but I hadn’t admitted it to myself. My family were staunch Catholics, and I thought... I tried to make myself believe that the fact I’d never been attracted to women meant I had a vocation. You know, a calling to be a priest. It felt like a place, a role, where I could fit in. And when you grow up feeling different all your life, you want a place to fit in so badly.” His voice sounded wistful.

  “I know.”

  “But then I met Bill.”

  “Was he ... uh ...”

  “Yeah, but it was his first time, too. We kind of came out for each other. And once we did, that somehow changed everything. For both of us.” His voice became dry. “Once we woke up to what was going on and tried to figure out what to do ... it became clear we had a major difference of opinion on our hands. He wanted to stay with the church, try to change it from the inside. I told him he was crazy. The church has been around for two thousand years. How could one man, or two, change something as hidebound as that?

  “In the end, I decided to quit. I hadn’t taken my final vows yet, but I had been ordained as a deacon already. I broke with everything I’d believed in up to that point, by walking out.” He rubbed the side of the guitar with a thumb. “My word had really meant something to me up until then.”

  Unbelievable. Of all our friends I would have sworn Sean was the one who ‘d really come to terms with himself the most. “Maybe it shows your word did mean something to you. You knew you couldn’t take final vows if you didn’t mean them honestly.”

  Sean shifted restlessly on the couch. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s why I’ve never been able to stick with anything since then. I tried law school, tried being a professional musician, a writer. I thought I had worked it all out in my mind. But now I find myself... doubting.

  “So, do I believe in God? I can’t say. Except I wonder if—” He stopped.

  “You wonder if... what?”

  He thought he saw Sean’s lips tighten in the dim light. “Never mind.”

  Elias looked at him and suddenly knew: Punished. He thinks he’s being punished. Because he knows he’s sick, maybe dying—he rejected God and now thinks God’s rejecting him. He took a deep breath. “Sean ... what I said yesterday, at Leshko’s about... about the way you’ve been looking lately—”

  “Wait,” Sean said, holding up his hand. “Elias, please. Not now. It’s ... your birthday, or it was. And I’ve done enough to ruin it already. We’ll talk about it, though.”

  “When?” asked Elias, quaking a little inside. “Soon.” The corner of his mouth quirked up in an ironic curve. “I promise.”

  Sean called him the next morning at work. “I have to see you,” he said tensely.

  “Well, sure,” answered Elias, his heart skipping a beat. “We’ll see each other tonight—” •

  “No. Before that. When do you go on break?”

  “Half an hour from now.”

  “You go to the Pond on your lunch hours, right?”

  “Yes. Sean—”

  “Right. I’ll see you there.” He hung up.

  When Elias walked to the Pond a half an hour later, he saw Sean from a distance, sitting on a bench looking at the swans. The day was warm, but Sean wore a light jacket. His fists were jammed into the pockets; his face looked strained and unhappy.

  Elias came up to stand beside him, but Sean didn’t look up. “I’m here,” Elias said finally.

  “I... went to see a doctor this morning.” He stopped.

  Elias waited. Sean still didn’t look up. “What did he tell you?” Elias asked finally. Sean’s jaw worked silently as he stared out over the Pond.

  “You have to say it out loud, Sean.”

  “Saying it out loud... means I’m going to die,” Sean said hoarsely.

  “No,” Elias said, moved by a strange and terrible pity. “No. Not until you say it aloud do you begin the fight, and until you start fighting, you don’t have a chance.” He felt light, weightless, as if something or someone immeasurably wise had seized possession of his body to speak to his lover through him. A curious sort of grace.

  “I’ve got AIDS.” Suddenly, shockingly, Sean burst into tears. A swan on the water wheeled in a half circle, startled by the noise.

  Elias hurried to sit next to him, to put his arms around him, and Sean buried his head in Elias’s shoulder and cried great racking sobs. Elias wrapped his arms around him and rocked him gently for a long, long time, throat tight, oblivious to the reactions of passersby. Now. Now we know. Now it all begins. He had the sensation, as he pressed his forehead against Sean’s cheek, that he couldn’t even tell where Sean’s skin stopped and his began. If he could just close his eyes and hold Sean tightly enough, then perhaps not only their limbs, but the very molecules of their bodies would intertwine, so they would never have to fear being separated by anything. Or perhaps the city around them would slow or even disappear, leaving just the two of t
hem, alone in a protective bubble where they would be safe. Gradually, Sean’s crying stopped. He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. Elias pushed the damp curls back from Sean’s forehead, and Sean straightened up stiffly.

  “I should have told you earlier,” he said, his voice thick, strained. “I’ve suspected it. But I wouldn’t go in and get seen, because I didn’t want to hear it.” He looked down at his thigh, wiped his hand on it.

  “It’s not a surprise to me, Sean.”

  Sean looked at him quickly, eyebrows upraised, and upon meeting Elias’s look, he nodded thoughtfully. “No. I suppose it wouldn’t be.” He fidgeted uncomfortably on the bench. “The doctor said... I mean, you should tell your partners, I suppose. Like I’m telling you. So they can, um...”

  “There isn’t anyone I need to tell.”

  Sean frowned. “I know you can’t do anything about tricks at the baths, but—”

  “Sean ...” Elias spread his hands and gave a little half laugh. “I’ve never been with anyone but you.”

  Sean stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, and then a look of horror dawned. “What? But I saw you with... when we went to the baths together... you went into the room, I saw you—”

  “Nothing happened!” Elias sighed and shrugged. “I told him I’d changed my mind, that I didn’t want... Sean, I knew you’d think I was crazy, and you don’t understand it, and that’s why I let you think otherwise. But I’ve never wanted anybody else but you.”

  “No. No!” Sean’s denial sounded like a wail of pain.

  “It’s true!” Elias shook his head in bafflement as tears started down Sean’s face again. “Why does that bother you?”

  “If I’m the only partner you’ve ever had,” Sean said fiercely, his voice trembling, “and what they’re saying about how it spreads is true, then ... then I’m going to be the one who kills you. Me!” He caught his breath. “I love you, Elias.”

  Elias closed his eyes as if absorbing a blow. He thought he had steeled himself against anything, and he had—except for the pain of hearing those words, so long awaited, and now said under these circumstances. “We don’t know if I’m going to get it, too,” he replied when he could trust himself to speak steadily. “But if I do, well... you picked me up, took me off the streets, after all, Sean. You’ve already saved me. I suppose I owe you my life anyway.”

  He opened his eyes and put his hand on Sean’s shoulder, giving it a little shake as Sean bowed his head in despair. “Look,” Elias said bracingly. “I’m not sick. Not yet, anyway. We have to think about you. We’re going to fight this thing. And we’re going to find a way to beat it. I’m going to be with you.”

  “I’m glad,” Sean said, his voice a thread of a whisper. “I’ll need you.” The swans swam closer, thrusting out their necks and arching them, spreading their wings in the sun. They looked unbearably beautiful. “So what do we do now?” Sean said. His voice tried to sound normal, but Elias heard the current of dread underneath.

  “We call GMHC. And ... well, Gordy, I suppose. And your doctor. They’ll tell us how to get started.”

  Then they just sat, side by side on the bench, silently watching the swans. Like an old married couple.

  Chapter Seventeen

  She went her way homeward

  With one star awake

  As the swans in the evening

  More over the lake.

  The people were saying

  No two e’er were wed

  But one has a sorrow

  That never was said.

  —“SHE MOVED THROUGH THE FAIR,”

  TRADITIONAL

  Together, Jonathan and Eliza came to William’s study, where Jonathan asked William’s assistance in performing the covenant of marriage.

  “Marriage?” William exclaimed, his eyes widening, “My dear Jonathan—surely you must be jesting!”

  “Why, Reverend,” Jonathan replied, frowning, wondering at William’s tone, “I do most heartily protest I was never more serious in my life.”

  Utterly taken aback, William stared with narrowed eyes at the couple standing before his desk. Eliza’s hand rested lightly on Jonathan’s arm, and at the disapproval in the minister’s voice, her gaze rose steadily to meet his.

  She watched how he strove to regain command of his face. William quickly schooled his expression to a blank neutrality, but this did not mislead her. That instant’s struggle made plain to her that he could not like her, that he was appalled by the proposed match. The minister’s attitude did not surprise Eliza, but she felt a pang of disappointment, for she knew Jonathan valued his opinion. While growing up with Tom and Nell, she had always sensed a difference between herself and other people, which had often made her lonely. The silence she had kept since committing to breaking the spell over her brothers made her feel even more isolated. Jonathan’s willingness to reach out to her, to love her, despite that silence, had come almost as a shock, a revelation both strange and sweet. The realization that she wanted him in return warmed her heart like an inner glowing ember. But now, in the face of William’s disapproval, doubt crept in again, bringing a chill like a cloud slowly drifting over the sun. She glanced up uncertainly at Jonathan.

  The quick, reassuring smile he returned to her, the tender press of his hand over hers, aroused such a wash of surprised horror, dismay, and rage in William’s breast that he all but choked. After a frozen moment, he deliberately unclenched his hands and forced a thin smile. His quick protest had been a mistake, he realized, for it had made Jonathan bristle. He must proceed more softly.

  “Forgive me—I do confess myself to be surprised. Nay, astonished. Please—” He indicated a bench.

  “Sit you both down, so we may confer.”

  Jonathan drew the bench out from the wall for Eliza and gestured to her to seat herself first, a courtesy that somehow set William’s teeth on edge. “The decision is sudden, I warrant you,” Jonathan said easily, sitting beside her.

  “Such swiftness argues that the decision may have been made—forgive me—too lightly,” William said cautiously.

  “Perhaps,” Jonathan said, unoffended. “But it might also mean we have found in each other the person God intended for us.” He smiled down at Eliza. “And then the proper thing to do,” he said to her directly, “is to act to fulfill God’s plan as swiftly as possible.” She smiled in return. William thoughtfully rubbed his chin, trying to understand his own unease. Jonathan’s desire to marry was only right and proper, he had to admit to himself. God had formed Adam and Eve to be companions to one another, and marriage was plainly the state the Almighty desired for His human creation. William did not believe love had much to do with the decision to wed. Proper marriages, in his opinion, were formed when one decided that the time had come to marry and then set about finding a suitable person. What he simply could not understand was what had made Jonathan choose this girl.

  “It would please us greatly,” Jonathan said, scattering William’s thoughts again, “if you would join our hands together. Do not tell the committee of safety,” he added with a boyish grin, “that I ever had aught good to say about the revocation of the colony’s charter. But I confess I am glad the change of laws permits you to perform marriages as a minister. I had liefer you bless my union, my friend, than to have to ride to another town to find some strange magistrate or justice of the peace to marry us.”

  This was too much for William. “I would be most heartily glad to do it, if... if I were confident you have indeed found in each other the person God intended for you.” He did not look at Eliza as he said this. He found it easier not to look at her.

  “I tell you I have,” Jonathan said, stiffening a little in annoyance.

  “Come, man! The happiness of married life requires that a man and a woman must be suitably fitted to draw together in this most holy yoke, matched equally in birth, education, and religion. You are a magistrate, of considerable importance to the community, well born and highly educated. But this girl.
.. you know nothing of her. You do not know ...” He paused, wondering how far he could press.

  “Well?” Jonathan challenged.

  “She can hear, yet she will not speak. She can read, yet she will not write. It is uncanny.”

  “I cannot tell you why she cannot speak or write, Reverend,” Jonathan said slowly.

  “Or why she refuses to do so,” William said darkly.

  “As you will,” Jonathan conceded. “But I have faith that God’s reasons for this shall be revealed in time. Meanwhile, I know that her place is at my side, and mine is at hers.”

  “What is it you desire in a wife, Jonathan?” William said desperately. “Are you not wishful for a woman who offers you wise and faithful counsel, who hears the secrets of your heart and shares her own? A woman who joins you in prayers each evening and teaches God’s word to your children? Or could it be you would choose to take this girl to wife because her silence means you never can truly know her, and therefore you are free to imagine her to be aught but what she really is? She may be vicious, she may be a witch—”

  “Fie, Reverend Avery!” Jonathan exclaimed, shocked.

  Eliza sat up stiffly, eyes widening, and felt a cold touch of fear.

  “The fact she is mute,” William said doggedly, “tempts you to ignore any truth you do not wish to see.”

  Jonathan looked at Eliza for a moment, his face thoughtful and still, and she held her breath. Finally, he turned back to the minister with a crooked smile. “I must, in good faith, weigh your words carefully, of course, Reverend. I am beholden to you, for you have always spoken what you deem to be truth to me. I see the danger of falling into such an error, and so I own your warning is justly made.”

  William nodded, his eyes intent on Jonathan’s face.

  Jonathan took a deep breath, wanting to choose the right words carefully to calm his friend’s fears.