Hadrian's Lover

by Patricia-Marie Budd

  “You’re not slathering that shit on my face ever again.” Todd sits up and studies his image in Frank’s mirror. The silver center is a beautiful oval surrounded by a highly decorative cherry oak frame. “It made me look stupid; the stuff smells. And, worst of all,” he adds emphatically. “It gave me acne.” Now looking at his friend, he exclaims, “I hate acne!” Frank sits next to Todd, placing his hand on his knee. Todd swats it away. “Hands off, buddy!”

  Frank shrugs off the rejection. Todd may play hard to get, but they are still best friends, and that relationship always gives him hope. “And how old were we then? Ten? Twelve?”

  “Thirteen,” Todd replies crisply. Todd has grim memories of that day. Frank and he got carried away dressing themselves in as festive a manner as possible. After painting each other’s faces, Frank exclaimed how beautiful Todd was, and suddenly, they were kissing, making out quite heavily. The experience became awkward for Todd when Frank began dry humping against him. Todd didn’t know what to do, and the incident hadn’t stopped until Frank had groaned during ejaculation. Todd had leapt up from the floor at that point, crying, “I’m not ready, Frank! I’m not ready. This is too soon.”

  As Todd ran out of the room, Frank had chased him. “Todd, come back! I’m sorry.”

  Todd wouldn’t listen. He had just hopped on his bike and raced home. He never even bothered to change. When he ran inside, he saw Papa Mike sitting on the couch with a new “friend.” “Well, well,” the man said smiling, “look at your little fella.” Todd stood rooted to the floor, unable to move. He was so stunned that when the man stood up and walked toward him, Todd stumbled back against the wall. The older man, trapping him there, leaned in so close Todd could smell the whiskey on his breath. It wasn’t until the man hooked his finger through the silver loop of Teika’s dog collar and gave it a slight tug that Todd remembered Frank had put it on him. All the clothes Todd had chosen to wear were pinks and purples, and Teika’s dog collar, being dark purple, matched perfectly. Frank had taken it off the old German Shepherd and strapped it on Todd. They had both laughed hilariously when Todd had pretended to be Teika. Frank started petting him, saying things like “Good girl!” Todd had pretended to wag his tail and leap up to lick Frank’s face the way he had seen Teika do. That was when things between Frank and him got crazy.

  “I like the dog collar.” The older man’s seductive whisper ripped Todd out of his memory. “Do you want to do it doggy style? Is that what you’re wanting to do?” Todd winced. That was how Frank had dry humped him. The man continued his seductions. “You are one beautiful little boy. Do you know that?” he asked Todd in an enticing manner. Todd just stood there, glued to the wall, and quaking. “You are going to have all the men chasing after you when you get older.”

  Timid and terrified, Todd called out, “Please make him stop, Papa Mike. Please.”

  “Leroy, leave the kid alone.” Papa Mike didn’t even sound annoyed. But Leroy listened. He blew Todd a little kiss first, then returned to the couch to sit beside his lover. “But, Todd,” Papa Mike began to chastise, “go to the mirror and look at the way you are dressed.” Todd did as instructed. “With those clothes,” he said, shaking his head, “that dog collar and all that makeup—well, face facts, son; you are just asking for sex.”

  “Your Papa’s right, little man,” Leroy concurs. “Makeup was designed to help make a person more attractive. It’s a tool. You wear it because you want to enhance your appearance. And if you want to enhance your exterior form, it’s because you want somebody to take notice of you. Just like I did.” He topped off his lecture with a wink.

  Todd shivered. He didn’t mean to. He thought Frank and he were just fooling around, but then it got crazy and they had done stuff, stuff Todd felt was wrong—No, he thought, not wrong, just not right. He looked at himself questioningly in the mirror. Why, he wondered, if it’s not wrong, didn’t it feel right?

  “So, Todd,” Papa Mike asked, “are you ready for sex?”

  “No, Papa.” Todd knew he wasn’t ready; he wondered whether he’d ever be ready after what he and Frank had done. “No, Papa, I’m not.”

  “Then go wash your face, change your clothes, and for Hadrian’s sake, take off that damn dog collar!”

  “Well,” Todd recalls the other man laughing and saying, “at least you know the boy is gay.”

  “Shut up, Leroy.” After sighing, Mike had added, “You can dress for attraction when you are ready to attract.”

  Still staring at himself in the mirror, Todd mouths the words, “Yes, Papa,” both in the past and in the present.

  Frank looks at Todd oddly, wondering what is going on inside his friend’s mind. “Thirteen,” Frank waves the age off dismissively. “We didn’t know what we were doing.” Walking over to his dressing table, he opens up a cosmetic case. “I’ve been learning all kinds of ways to use makeup creatively in Cos class. Makeup doesn’t have to make anyone look tawdry. You don’t have to slather it on, wear blush, or anything. Just use a little base to keep from looking too pale.” As if to further his case, Frank adds, “No tinsel, no trash.”

  “Yet,” Todd reminds him, “all the boys you date wear it to look kitschy.”

  “Kitschy,” Frank laughs. “Good word! That’s going to be my nickname for you.”

  “Don’t you dare—” Todd begins to protest.

  “Okay, Kitschy,” Franks says, winking Todd’s way. Frank is constantly threatening to give Todd a pet name.

  Todd’s face reddens. “I swear by Hadrian’s lover, Frank. I’ll kick the shit out of you if you ever call me that again.”

  “All right, gee whiz, learn to take a joke.” Frank shrugs off his annoyance by turning to the mirror and begins to brush the light beige powder over his face. Taking his time, sensing the mood of the room, Frank decides to chat lightly until Todd calms down. Unfortunately, he does not choose a very good topic. “Really, Todd, it’s like you’re living back in the Dark Ages, embracing old world concepts where men weren’t allowed to dress freely. No makeup, no skirts, no flashy clothes.”

  “You don’t wear skirts,” Todd interjects.

  “The point, Todd, is I could if I wanted to.” He turns to face Todd, brush in one hand, powder case in the other. “And nobody would abuse me for it!” Frank insists, “So could you!” Before Todd can object, Frank barges on, lecturing, “There was a time, before Hadrian, when men’s fashion was limited. We weren’t allowed to choose the way we dressed.” Looking with emphasis toward his cosmetics, he adds, “Or the way we looked.” Turning back to face the mirror, Frank finishes his touch up. When done, he swivels to face Todd, presenting his newly formed image: “See,” he smiles proudly. “You can’t even tell I’m wearing any. It just covers up the blemishes.”

  “You don’t have any blemishes,” Todd interjects.

  “That’s because I cover them up.” Adding more powder to his brush, Frank moves in closer to Todd. “Here, let me put some on you.”

  Annoyed, Todd pushes Frank’s hand away. “I said no.”

  “Oh, come on, Todd. Everyone wears makeup!”

  “That doesn’t mean I have to.”

  Spinning on his heels, returning the cosmetics case to his dressing table, Frank exclaims, “You are so stubborn!”

  “You said men have a choice in Hadrian. So, why can’t I choose the way I look?”

  “Of course you can,” Frank says a little too harshly. “Did you know,” he adds in his own defense, “that when makeup was first used by the Egyptians, it was worn by men as well as women!” Todd shakes his head. “I learned that in Cos, too!” Huffing a little to release his anger, he states, “Well, here in Hadrian, like in ancient Egypt, men are free to wear makeup if they want to!”

  “It’s just,” Todd counters, “some guys use way too much goop and it looks awful.”

  Frank takes this comment to mean his personal use of makeup is vulgar. “Just because a guy wears a little base doesn’t make him cheap or gaudy.”

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nbsp; “I didn’t mean you…” Todd stumbles, trying to avoid hurting his friend’s feelings. “It’s just that’s the way the boys you date look—garish, flashy, showy. I mean—you never date anyone who just looks normal.” And they all wear that stupid fucking collar! “It’s like you want every guy you’re with to look like a tart or something.” His frustration growing, Todd expresses his real fear, “And I know if you’re trying to put that crap on me, it’s because you want me to look that way, too!” To avoid further discussion, Todd stands and crosses over to the bedroom door. “What’s taking Crystal so long?” Todd reaches into his jean pocket to retrieve his cell phone and begins to text.

  “What are you doing?” Frank is clearly annoyed. Todd hit home when he suggested Frank wanted him to look pert and cute like his “boys.” It’s almost as if Frank is trying to relive their time together when they were thirteen. Todd seemed so anxious to kiss him, so anxious to pet and play then, but he suddenly changed. Frank still doesn’t know what he did wrong, and they can never talk about that day. It has become taboo—almost as if it never happened. Sighing, Frank realizes a truth about himself; everyone he dates has that same boyish look; they all remind Frank of Todd on that day, and they all end up wearing Teika’s dog collar.

  Todd has his back to Frank so he doesn’t see his friend’s facial expression. He simply answers Frank’s question. “Texting Crystal to see what’s taking her so long.”

  “Put that away,” Frank growls. Todd obeys his friend, hearing something dark and ominous in Frank’s voice. “She’ll get here when she gets here!” Allowing all of his annoyance to spill out, he adds, “Crystal, our little chaperone.”

  Todd turns around. “That’s not fair, Frank! She’s smart. Besides, we both need to pass this test.” He adds as a reminder, “Everyone needs Hadrian history to graduate.”

  “I know.” Frank lets go of his aggravation. “I just would have preferred you and me alone.”

  “You’re the one who got the three of us together to form a study group last year!”

  “I know.” Somewhat frustrated, Frank replies, “I had no idea you two would hit it off.”

  “We’re just friends, Frank,” Todd insists. “Like you and me.”

  “No,” Frank reminds him, “not like you and me.”

  It is Todd’s turn to get irritated. “I am not a tinsel tart! I am not trash! And I will not join your little harem of boys!”

  Frank is offended. “I never said you were any of those things.” Frank sits on the bed and pats the spot next to him. Todd refuses to take the bait. “You would be the only one!” As if to defend his behavior, he adds, “I only date all those guys because I’m waiting for you!”

  Slightly mollified, Todd sits back on the bed, searching for a way to word this delicately. “Frank, I don’t want a boyfriend.” Seeing the look of shock in Frank’s eyes, Todd begins to backtrack. “I mean, not so soon after—it just hurts too much.” Sighing, hoping this will placate Frank, he says, “I’m just happy being able to hang out with you again.”

  “And what’s wrong with dating?” Frank sees hope in everything Todd says.

  Squeezing his eyes shut, Todd replies, “Nobody just dates.” Then complaining, he says, “A date means getting laid and…” Feeling foolish, blushing a little, Todd stares at his feet as they shuffle uncomfortably. “I’m not ready for sex.” He harrumphs, “That’s why Devon dumped me.”

  Frank laughs gaily as he wraps his arms around Todd’s shoulder. He and Devon didn’t do it! He can still be the one Todd falls in love with! The first and only one Todd shares himself with! Just like Dad and Papa Dean, he tells himself. Todd wants to shove Frank off, but he knows that will hurt his friend too much so he lets Frank hug him instead. “I respect you, Todd. I wouldn’t make you do anything until I knew you were ready.”

  “That’s what Devon said,” Todd mutters gloomily.

  “I’m not Devon.” Then whispering in Todd’s ear, he adds, “Dating would be no different than the way things are now, except for kissing and,” a little naughtily, “maybe a little petting.” Frank leans in for a kiss.

  Todd quickly turns away. “Kissing leads to petting and petting always leads to sex!” Glaring back at Frank, he concludes, “And if it doesn’t, he dumps you!”

  Frank gently brushes away one of the tears Todd is desperately trying to hold back. Frank reaches out to Todd and holds his friend tight in his arms. “He really hurt you, didn’t he?” Hadrian exile you, Devon, Frank curses.

  Although he would like to struggle against Frank’s hug, Todd merely closes his eyes and tries to explain. “Frank, I—” Unable to finish, he tenses into Frank’s embrace.

  Encouraging him, Frank says, “You can tell me anything, Todd.”

  No, I can’t! Todd starts to cry. Why can’t I feel anything if I’m at least a two? Isn’t it just a matter of finding the right man? Isn’t Frank the right man? I love him. I don’t love anyone better! Why don’t I feel anything then? Summoning up the courage, he asks, “Everybody’s at least a two, right, Frank?”

  Frank smiles reassuringly at his friend, “That’s right, babe. Everybody in Hadrian is at least a two.” To prove his point, he asks Todd, “You look in the mirror, right?”

  “Of course I do. Everybody does.”

  “Everybody, good. Remember last year?” Todd shakes his head, unsure of Frank’s allusion. “When we took the history of homosexual themes in cinema?”

  Todd smirks, “Yeah, great class. All we did was watch short flicks and movies!”

  Frank becomes annoyed. “It was more than that; we learned some important things too, you know.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know, but,” he smirks, “it was slack!”

  Truly annoyed now, Frank states, “Beside the point. Remember the short film we watched by the twentieth century director David Blythe—oh, Hadrian, what was its name?”

  “Don’t ask me. All I remember about that class was not having to do any work. I spent most of it sleeping. It was sweet.”

  Frank is almost irate. “Todd, please, I’m trying to remember—Circadian Rhythms!” Frank is pleased with his excellent memory. “In it, he said, and I quote, ‘All mirrors are homosexual.’”

  Todd screws up his face in disgust at this logic. “What?”

  Frank walks over to the mirror to illustrate. “See, I’m looking at myself, and what I see is a man. As I admire my own image, I am admiring someone of the same sex.”

  “By that reasoning,” Todd utters sarcastically, “everyone who masturbates is gay.”

  Frank spins to face Todd, pleased by the logic, “Yes! That’s right! And Todd,” he says, remembering back to the day he walked in on his friend, “you can’t be—you know—that way—having masturbated.”

  Todd blushes as the memory surges through him. When Frank walked in on him, he had been masturbating to thoughts of Crystal—while looking at heterosexual porn. Shame floods his body. Franks, sensing his friend’s unease, sits down beside him and wraps an arm around Todd’s shoulder. “Besides,” he adds, giving Todd a gentle shake, “everyone born in Hadrian has homosexual tendencies. It just takes some people a little longer to find themselves than others; that’s all.”

  Todd nods his head (a little too quickly) in agreement. “I’m just not ready—right, Frank?” As his breath quivers, he tries to sound confident. “I’m just not ready yet.” If Devon taught me anything about myself, he thinks, it was that!

  Frank begins kissing the top of Todd’s head. “I can wait, babe. I can wait.”

  Although Frank’s action is innocent, Todd panics. Pushing Frank away, Todd stands, a bit too aggressively, before crossing to the other side of the room. Positioning himself next to Frank’s desk with his back to his friend, Todd picks up his school slate and begins tapping the screen, searching for the doc they need to study from for tomorrow’s test. After finding what they need, he holds the slate against his chest, a feeble armor against Frank’s lust. Finally summoning up the courage, he
rejects Frank’s offer. “No, you can’t.” Turning back to face Frank, he states, “You can’t wait.” He pauses, losing some of the conviction in his voice. “At least, not for as long as it could take me.” Silencing Frank with a wave of his hand, he adds, “I know you, Frank. You’re horny. You’ll start dating all those pretty boys and I’ll look like a fucking idiot.” Just as Frank is about to deny the charge, Todd interjects, “Really, Frank? Admit it. What if it takes two or three years before I’m ready?” His eyebrows cock. “My father wasn’t ready until he was twenty-four years old!” What Todd doesn’t mention was that his father was “piss drunk” at the time; something his Papa Mike often slurs in drunken lament when he doesn’t realize Todd can hear him. With barely a pause for this thought Todd continues, “Are you really going to stay celibate that long?”

  That is the clincher. Frank cannot deny the fact that two years—with the possibility of eight years—without sex is way too long. He would never stay faithful to Todd, not for that long of a stretch, and Todd, as he has come to learn over the years, is the most steadfast of friends. “That’s why I love you, you know.”

  Todd tries to laugh; pretending to be coy is not something he is good at. “Why?”

  “Because you’re faithful, loyal. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, will ever have.” Standing up, Frank crosses over to join Todd as his desk. “Papa Dean says you’re one in a million!”

  “That’s nice of him.” Todd likes Frank’s Papa Dean. He is down to earth, although Todd can’t quite figure out why he feels an affinity toward the man. Ever since his father died, Todd has felt like Papa Dean adopted him. He’s proven to be an even better father than Papa Mike. Todd flops down on the floor, the school slate now face up in his lap.

  Frank pulls out his desk chair and sits down. Swiveling around so he can look down at his friend, Frank ends with, “Okay, so you’re not ready.” Pointing his index finger at Todd, he warns, “I’m going to continue dating.”

  “I never said you shouldn’t.” Todd is not looking at Frank, tapping and sliding his finger across the slate, ostensibly in search of the page they need to study.