by Nick Nolan
Jeremy looked around. First he noticed the span of heavy ceiling beams overhead, from which hung two rows of old-fashioned glass dormitory lights dimmed so low they glowed like pumpkins. To his right he saw a long bar next to doors that opened onto a rained-out patio. On his left, a fire flickered inside an ancient wooden mantelpiece, around which were scattered comfortably worn sofas, tables, and chairs. And perched and sitting and talking and laughing and leaning and listening and walking around were guys.
Guys like him.
A bunch of officey-looking men stood by the fireplace. A clique that apparently lived at the gym posed by the door. Most were white, a lot were Hispanic, and more than a few were African-American or Asian. A handful looked typically gay, like you could tell from outer space. But some of the others looked like coaches or firemen or regular college dudes.
There was no denying that being here made him nervous, considering the throng of men who turned their heads, like onlookers at a parade, in appraisal of the foursome; he even noticed three or four great-looking guys falling silent and nudging their buddies to look in their direction. But he couldn’t yet meet these admiring eyes, not only because he was embarrassed by the shy smiles he was receiving but also because the place was so crowded he was afraid he might trip on someone’s feet. His companions seemed unfazed, sidling their way through to some specific destination only they were familiar with.
The foursome stopped for a moment, so he seized the opportunity to study the dark green walls and their collection of ancient fraternity photos. He smiled back at the princely, grinning young men wearing their sweatshirts emblazoned with indecipherable Greek insignias, their arms thrown over one another’s shoulders in gestures of typical, all-American camaraderie. But here, in this fraternity of a different sort, their toothy smiles and puppylike affection took on a bent suggestiveness. It struck Jeremy that these ordinary faces amidst this extraordinary crowd seemed to say, Some of us were only able to fantasize about what y’all do every day.
“Hurry up, Jeremy,” Carlo urged, grabbing his hand to pull him through the crowd toward the rear of the building. Jeremy tensed reflexively at the contact, but then relaxed when he realized that touching was OK here. In fact, Carlo’s grip felt comforting, reassuring even. Jeremy squeezed a response, and the other boy snapped his head back to toss him a suggestive grin, his eyes sparkling.
The thumping dance song that had been playing as they entered melted into a faster, more mysteriously syncopated beat, overlaid with minor chords that swirled and spun, lazily harmonizing with a woman’s low, haunting voice. Jeremy strained his ears to catch the lyrics between the rowdy conversations and laughter surrounding him:
When she leaves
Your eyes will cry
Sadness reigns
Your heart will die
“Come meet Nathan!” Carmen yelled to Jeremy over the music, waving him toward a second bar against the wall of the room farthest back. He spotted a striking man in his twenties with pale skin and dark hair leaning his elbows on the countertop and laughing with Darius. As he approached, the man did a double take, hitched their eyes together, and smiled.
Cry to God
He’ll only point
And laugh at you
“Jeremy, this is Nathan; Nathan, Jeremy.”
He let go of Carlo, then shook the bartender’s hand, which held on just a moment longer than was customary.
But don’t be scared
Of love or life
Kiss her cheek
This one last night
Then you’ll wish you’d had more time
To learn what’s true
“I’m glad to finally meet you,” he said. “Carlo and Carmen talk about you so much, I feel like I know you already.”
“Thanks, Nathan. You too.” He puffed out his chest, grinning. Then glancing toward Carlo, Jeremy noticed how the heat in his eyes had cooled. “Carmen told me how you helped her with her MCATs and offered to help us celebrate. That’s so cool.” He examined the evenness of his features, the full lips and gentle smile. Definitely sexy.
“It’s nothing unless you take me up on the offer. What can I get for you?”
“I just want a Coke, maybe with lemon if you have any,” Jeremy answered.
“I want a beer,” said Carmen.
“Me too,” Carlo added. “But I’ll settle for a Coke too, at least tonight.”
“I better get a hot mochaccino,” said Darius. “I’m freezing in this wet shirt.”
“I’ve got a dry one in the back, if you want to switch,” Nathan offered, pointing. “Go change back there. And Carmen, you better go with him. I don’t want him getting molested.”
“Jeremy wants to watch,” Carlo blurted.
“Here’s your Cokes, gentlemen.” He slid the two frosty mugs toward them as their companions disappeared through the darkened doorway behind the bar.
“Carlo, what is with you?” Jeremy asked, as Nathan attended to his next set of customers.
“I’m having a great time,” he replied innocently. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, why are you always bugging me about Darius? You know that I know he’s straight and he’s with Carmen. Why’re you trying to embarrass me?”
“I’m just joking.”
“Well quit it.”
“Sure. Sorry. Anything else I do that pisses you off?”
“Not really. But I’ll let you know.”
“Can I do that too?”
“Of course.”
“Well then maybe I will,” Carlo snapped.
“Go ahead.”
“Let’s sit down. This may take a while.”
“Fine with me.” Jeremy followed Carlo to a tall table in the corner flanked by a pair of barstools, ignoring the admiring leers of a trio who looked to be of Arthur’s generation. Jeremy took off his letterman’s jacket and hung it on the back of the stool, scrunching the hat deep into the side pocket. They sat together in silence for a few moments before Carlo took a deep breath, then began. “You don’t get it, do you?”
“I guess not. I’m not sure what you mean.”
“About me, about how I feel about you.”
“Go on.”
“Jeremy, ever since the first time we studied together, I knew I had feelings for you, and I kept wanting to tell you, but I knew you had to get the gay thing out of the way first. So now that it is—out of the way, I mean—I feel like I want to tell you, I have to tell you, how I feel, and how I’ve felt all along.”
“I think I know where you’re headed with this, Carlo. You don’t have to continue.” He studied his beverage.
“But I want to, I’ve got to. You still think of me as a fag because that’s what you saw me as first. Then you got over that a little and started thinking of me as a friend, but kind of the same way as you probably see Ellie now…a girl friend.” He shook his head. “But I’m more than that. I want you to see me as a regular guy, Jeremy. A guy that feels a lot for you, that…” he stopped, then looked around to see if anyone else was listening “…that loves you. Very much. Someone who’s listened to you and stuck up for you and watched as you discovered yourself, and then listened to you as you went on about who you were hot for. And it hurts me that you don’t think of me that way. Because I do. All the time.”
“You do?”
“What are you, retarded?”
“You don’t have to get hostile. All I mean is that you never let me know before now, except for joking about it.”
“Would it’ve made any difference?”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“So…you don’t feel the same way about me.”
“I don’t know how I feel about anybody right now.” Jeremy sucked his drink through his tiny black straw, feeling suddenly like a sissy. “I mean, over the past few months a lot has changed for me. I’m still adjusting.”
“Jeremy, you’ve got to find your own way, just like I did.” He lifted the glass to his mouth and gulped down the co
ntents, then set it down with a clack. “You’re right. You’ve had a lot to adjust to, and graduation is just around the corner, then college after that. You’re gonna have to get used to jumping from one situation to the next. We all will. But during those times, you’ve got to know who you can count on. And I want you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what.”
“Carlo, that’s nice of you to say, really it is, but I’ve known all my life that I don’t have anyone I can count on.”
“That’s bullshit! Didn’t you hear what I just said?” He thrust himself forward on the tiny table so their faces were inches away. “I said I love you, and you didn’t say anything back, and I still said I’d be here for you. What kind of monster are you that you can’t trust me?”
“The kind who was raised by a monster who used everyone around her to get whatever she wanted. So I guess you’re right—I’m a monster too. The next generation.”
“No! You think you are, but you’re not. Can’t you see who you really are?”
Jeremy turned his head in time to see Carmen with her boyfriend, in a dry white T-shirt, laughing as they made their way toward their table. But she must have read the situation, because she grabbed Darius’s arm and switched directions.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Jeremy began. “I’ve never even told anyone what my mother put me through, like how she got pregnant with me only so she could trap my rich dad into marrying her, or that my father was probably murdered and she might have had something to do with it, or how I pretty much raised myself without any love or support or money or sometimes even food, and how each day is a struggle now because of the minuscule amount of confidence I have to stumble through life with. The truth is, Carlo, that I don’t trust anybody, least of all someone who wants to get into my pants!”
“Is that all you think I want from you, you asshole?” His voice peaked suddenly above the music, and a few faces turned their way. “You’ve just proved my point; that you’ve never had anyone in your life that loves you the way I do—and yes, in my mind that might include a friendly screwing or a blow job once in a while. But for your information, I’ve also spent night after night dreaming about what it would be like for us to just hold each other…to walk on the beach together at sunset and make plans for our future, to have your voice be the last thing I hear at night and the first thing I hear in the morning. I…I love your sadness, your smile, your goofy walk, your shyness, your laugh, even the minuscule confidence you stumble through life with.” He sighed deeply, closed his eyes, then wiped his nose on the back of his wrist. His eyes fluttered open through sudden tears. “When, Jeremy Tyler, are you going to open up to someone, even if it’s not me, and start making up for the life you haven’t been living?”
Jeremy stared down at his hands clasped together atop the table, at once comprehending that his fingers might as well be made of wood, for they’d never caressed anyone or been held lovingly, at least that he could remember. And the possibility dawned on him that the young man in front of him might actually see him not as the tangled puppet he’d been, but as the glorious man he most certainly would be. The smack of Carlo’s confrontation revived something nearly dead within him, and he knew that this was a soul he might actually trust, and maybe…maybe even allow himself to love.
They sat together in silence for several long, drawn-out minutes, the partylike atmosphere spinning around them seeming a stark contrast to the depressive mood at their table.
“Carlo,” he began gently, “I think you’re right about me. Again.”
Their eyes lifted to each other.
“Like your e-mail said?” Carlo muttered.
“Just like my e-mail said.” He nodded. “And you’ve definitely given me lots to think about.”
“Like what?”
“Like maybe I’m ready for some of the things you’re talking about. To trust someone finally. Maybe to even love someone back.”
“Don’t get my hopes up,” Carlo warned, “because if you’re saying this only for tonight, I’ll make your life miserable.”
“I need some time, Carlo, but yeah, I mean it.” Jeremy gave him a careful smile.
“So where do we go from here?” Carlo asked finally.
“Well…I don’t know how to dance, so maybe you could show me, because this song sounds like the kind gay boys like to dance to. And I’m almost officially a gay boy now.”
“Come on, then. There’s a teeny dance floor in the next room.”
Carlo grabbed his hand and was leading him toward the thundering music when Darius intercepted them along the way.
“Where’re you guys going?” he shouted over the din.
“I’m gonna teach Jeremy to dance!” Carlo yelled.
“Great! I’ll call my dad and tell him I’m gonna be later than I thought. Like an hour?”
“OK!” they both yelled and then disappeared into the squish of gyrating men.
Minutes later, he was back, tapping them on the shoulders.
“My cell phone’s dead. It must’ve gotten wet!” Darius hollered. “Can I use yours?”
“Sure, but I left it in the glove box! The keys are in my jacket at the table, and wear my stuff so you won’t get wet again!” Jeremy returned his concentration to mimicking Carlo’s simple, repetitive footsteps.
“Thanks! Carmen’s gonna stay here. I don’t want her getting drenched,” he laughed. “And make sure none of the guys pick up on her!” Darius turned, then snatched Jeremy’s jacket from the back of the barstool and pulled his cap on. The boys giggled as they watched the distinct white letters advertising TYLER across his broad shoulders disappear into the crowd, as he threaded his way toward the exit.
Carlo nudged him. “He kind of looks like you, with your stuff on.”
Jeremy nodded. “Now I know what I look like in a gay bar,” he laughed, shoving him playfully.
“So do you think you look like you belong here?”
“I never thought I’d say so, but yeah. I do.”
Carlo put his hands on Jeremy’s hips. “Then you have to move these. You can’t dance unless you’re willing to shake your ass!”
With the storm beginning to wane, Darius strode easily up Robertson toward the alley where Jeremy had parked. The sidewalks were unusually deserted, no doubt because of the rain; in fact, the only other people he saw were a couple of heavyset men across and down the street who had stopped to check him out as he strutted along.
West Hollywood. He figured that if he were gay, he could get laid by a different guy here every day.
As he walked, an icy chill stung his cheeks, and he longed for summer; it seemed like forever until it would be that time again. Then after summer would come autumn, and with it UCLA, which he would attend thanks to his hard-won football scholarship.
He stopped to admire a huge oil painting that had been displayed prominently in an antiques store’s window—an oversize landscape of amber California hills dotted with orange poppies and olive-green oaks under a turquoise sky. It looked like the countryside outside of Agoura, where he’d grown up, before his father had bought the gas station on the highway and moved the family to the flats of Oxnard. He smiled, thinking of the wood-sided house between the rolling hills where he’d played hide-and-go-seek with his brothers and sisters during the endless evenings of July and August. Was the house even still there? He’d recently seen a sign for a new development down the same road where they’d lived. Maybe he could take the car this weekend and find out. That would make a nice Sunday trip for Carmen and him.
Finally, he made his way up to the alley, then turned into it, trotting now at a faster clip toward the Rover while splashing through the puddles, listening to his steps ricochet between the garage doors facing the narrow roadway.
But his echoed steps sounded too fast.
Something wasn’t right.
He stopped, and his heart seemed to stop as if it, too, were trying to listen.
Someone’s chasing me!
&nbs
p; He jerked his head over his shoulder and saw the two men he’d seen only a few minutes before bearing down on him—one wielding a baseball bat and the other some object he couldn’t make out.
Bashers!
He sprinted for the safety of the Rover, pressing the key fob in his hand to unlock the doors. The parking lights instantly flashed orange twice, and the interior lit up like home. But should he keep running down to the open end of the alley or hop in the car? What if one of them had a gun—was that what was in the other one’s hand? No, he reasoned quickly, they would’ve used it already. If he could just get himself inside and start the car, he might even run them down.
He was only a couple of feet from the front of the car when the footsteps stopped. He looked back and saw the two men standing five or so garages back, one of them swinging the bat like he was warming up for a blazing curveball while the other stood motionless. Maybe they’d given up the chase because he’d made it to safety. His hand shot out to grab the door handle.
He hadn’t a clue that a third was standing in back of him until he heard the whistle of the bat through the air. Jeremy’s black cap flew off him, and the skin on the back of his head split open, exposing his skull. In an instant, he fell unconscious, his knees folding like a rag doll as he slumped face-first onto the oily asphalt.
Snickering nervously, the trio convened around the motionless figure. “Poor little faggot didn’t know what hit ’em,” the first said.
“I never seen one run that fast before!” the second one laughed.
“Shut up and let’s do this quick,” said the third. “We gotta make this look good, but remember he doesn’t want him killed if we can help it.”