Graffiti

by Terry O'Reilly

  Alan opened his eyes. Tom smiled and, for the first time in he didn't know how long, he pressed his lips against those of another man, kissing him, his tongue slipping between Alan's lips.

  Tom let his body cover Alan's. Alan wrapped his arms around him.

  "I think I love you," Alan whispered into Tom's ear.

  * * * *

  Tom woke with a start. He didn't know how long he'd lain with Alan. They were now on their sides facing each other, still wrapped in each other's arms. Alan was still asleep, now breathing softly, peacefully. Tom closed his eyes tightly and bit his lip. He had crossed a line; a line he himself had drawn.

  Extricating himself from Alan's embrace, Tom swung his legs off the bed and sat with his head in his hands.

  A short while later Tom quietly got up and walked to the bathroom. After pissing he examined his reflection in the mirror. Don't go there again, he told himself. Splashing cold water on his face, he dried off and walked back to the other room.

  Alan was awake. He sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, smiling innocently.

  Tom steeled himself. "You have to go," he said in a flat, emotionless voice.

  "What?" Alan said. His smile faded, replaced with a bewildered look.

  "Please just get dressed and go. This was a mistake." Tom picked up his briefs from the floor and put them on.

  Alan slid his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Tom turned away.

  "I don't understand," Alan said. "I...Did I do something wrong? If I did, I'm sorry. I..."

  He didn't want to hear Alan's confusion. "No, you didn't do anything wrong." Tom walked farther away from Alan. "It's me. I'm just not into this dating shit. Just get dressed and get out of here."

  Tom heard Alan pick up his clothes and go into the bathroom. He waited until he heard Alan come back out then turned to look at him. He looked hurt, beaten. Alan started to say something. Tom held up his hand and shook his head. Alan walked to the back door, hesitated, looked at Tom over his shoulder, then opened it and walked out.

  Tom went to the door and looked into the mirror. "You bastard!" he castigated his reflection. "See what happens when you let yourself feel love? You wind up hurting someone."

  He went back into the room, grabbed a pair of dumbbells and angrily started doing curls.

  Chapter 8: Entrapment

  Alan sat in his car outside Tom's apartment. He felt dazed. What had he done wrong? Everything seemed to be going so well: wonderful in fact. Then his first full-blown man-to- man sex came to a screeching halt. Was it his inexperience? Tom seemed to be fine with that at the restaurant. Tom seemed to like me? I sure like him. Then what happened? Alan sat for several more minutes. He looked up at the lighted window of Tom's apartment and sighed. He started the car and drove off.

  Arriving at home, he hesitated at the back door. He was in no frame of mind to be questioned by his mother as to how he enjoyed his evening and with whom. All he had told her was that he was going out, but he knew if she was still up she would press for details. He checked his watch. It was only a little after eleven. His parents would probably still be up; it was Friday night. Briefly he considered staying in his car or taking a walk until he was sure they had gone to bed. But since he heard Dusty give his usual yip through the open window when he had closed the car door he knew they would be expecting him. He might as well go in and get this over with.

  He came in, hung up his keys and walked through the kitchen. He stood in the doorway to the family room. His dad was stretched out in the recliner watching a baseball game. His mother sat on the sofa knitting with Dusty curled up next to her. The dog looked up as Alan walked into the room.

  "Hi," he said hoping he sounded casual.

  "Hi," said his dad over his shoulder. "Come on in and watch the game. We're winning for a change, six to two."

  "Yes, dear. Come in and sit. Tell us all about your evening," his mother added. "Did you go out with your friends from work? You left in such a hurry before dinner you didn't have a chance to tell us where you were going."

  "Martha, for God's sake! He's not a teenager any more," his father said without taking his eyes off the television. "The man doesn't have to let us know where he goes. Oh! Evans got another home run...seven to two."

  Alan knew that teenager or not, he had to make something up or his mother's veiled probes and covert needling would go on until she felt she had the information she needed. He walked in and sat on the opposite end of the couch. Dusty got up and came to him, standing on his lap trying to lick his face. Alan petted him and he lay back down between the occupants of the sofa.

  He continued to massage the dog while he came up with a plausible story, one that couldn't be verified so the fact that it was a bold-faced lie wouldn't be detected. His parents had met several of his friends from work and while the chance of their running into them was remote...why was he thinking like this? What he did was none of their business. He'd just tell them the truth...sort of.

  "I met a guy. We went out for a drink. Talked for a while. Came home."

  "Someone we know?" his mother asked as the knitting needles click-clacked.

  Alan could hear his dad snort and saw him shake his head. "No, I just met him."

  "Where, dear?"

  Alan started to say at the park but remembered his father's warning of the cops planning a sting there and thought better of it.

  "I met him at Casey's. I went in to have a beer and he was at the bar."

  "What's his name, dear?" Click- clack, click-clack. "Tom."

  "Tom what? Maybe we know his family."

  "I didn't get his last name. He's a college student," Alan added, anticipating his mother's next question.

  "That's odd," she said.

  "What, that he's a college student?" his father asked. "No, George. That he didn't give his last name. Usually when you meet someone they tell you their..."

  "God, woman!" His father cut in. "Alan met a guy, they had a beer, he goes to college, end of story. You're not in the CIA you know."

  "It's all right, Dad," Alan said.

  "Since when is it so wrong for a mother to take an interest in her son's life?" his mother said. The needles clacked louder.

  Alan sighed. He wasn't in the mood for this. "Mom, he's just a guy I met at the bar. We had a beer, ate peanuts and talked, strangers that pass in the night. I'll probably never see him again." As soon as he said it a wave of sadness came over him.

  "Didn't you tell us a couple of days ago you met a girl named Tommy? You remember, George, don't you?" Alan's father waved her off, apparently more interested in the ball game than in Alan's evening out. His mother continued her relentless pursuit of the truth. "You said you met her at the A&W. You said she was a student, too. Isn't it strange that you met a man with the same name who is also a student?"

  Alan had forgotten he had told them about meeting Tom before. "Uh...yeah...actually it was him that I met at the A&W. Yeah...it's the same guy," he fumbled trying to organize his thoughts.

  "Well, dear, it seems strange." His mother put down her knitting and turned to look at him. "First you told us it was a girl and it turns out it was a man. Why would you do that?"

  "I didn't say he was a girl," Alan said trying to sound patient and casual. "I just said his name was Tommy and you assumed it was a girl."

  "Be that as it may," his mother said, taking up her knitting again, "but now you make it sound like you just met him tonight when really you'd met him before." She emphasized the word 'him' each time she said it. "I don't see why you're being secretive about..."

  Alan didn't want to get into any more interrogation. "I'm gonna go to bed."

  He got up, petted Dusty and kissed his mom on the cheek. "I didn't mean to pry," she said stiffly, evidently miffed, the knitting needles clicking and clacking louder. "It's okay, Ma."

  "Night, Dad."

  "Night, son. Martha, I think these guys are gonna win this game. They just scored again."

  Alan went
to his room, got his pajamas and went to the bathroom. He took off his clothes and stared into the mirror. Looking down at his stomach he saw the tell-tale signs of the evening's activities. He hadn't cleaned up very well back at Tom's place. A white crust of dried cum clung to his lower abs and pubic hair. Slowly he washed off the remnants of his night of queer sex.

  Well, that's that, he thought as he dried himself and pulled on his PJ bottoms. I don't think I'll be trying this again any time soon.

  * * * *

  His resolution didn't last long. By Monday at the office he had a hard time concentrating. He kept trying to think of a way to see Tom again. Elise had caught two errors on ledgers he had worked on.

  "What's going on, Alan? You don't make mistakes like this. You feeling all right?" she asked him.

  "I'm fine," he said, "just have a lot on my mind." "Anything I can help you with?"

  "No, I'll be okay. Thanks for asking."

  She dropped it, but he kept thinking about Tom, their evening together at The Flame, the sex they had shared. By lunchtime Alan had made up his mind to try to contact him again. He couldn't call him on the phone; he didn't have his last name. He would just have to go back to Tom's apartment. If he could see Tom again maybe he could ask him what went wrong. He signed out at noon, drove to Tom's place and knocked on the door. There was no answer. Maybe he's at work...or in class...or maybe the park. Alan went back to his car and, just before he got in, he looked up at the window. Did he see the curtain move?

  Just my imagination. He sighed.

  Alan drove to McDonalds, got a burger and Coke and drove to Delph. He sat in his car and ate. No one came or went the whole time he was there. Disappointed he went back to the office.

  He returned to the park after work and the next day at lunch. Both times there had been a few men hanging around. They had looked at him in his car but he quickly looked away. On the Wednesday he got out of his car and went into the john. His note from the week before was still there. He added under it, Like to try again? Say when? Really like to see you. Thursday he checked the bathroom after work. No message had been left.

  On Friday he took his lunch to the park once more. He went into the john. There was no further message next to his. Dejected, he walked back to his car to eat. Maybe I should just try someone else? he thought. After all, he clearly didn't want me around after we got done. Yeah maybe...some of the guys here seemed interested in me.

  As Alan mulled over the idea that he should make himself available a car pulled into the lot, turned around and backed into a space a few places down from Alan's Mustang. Alan looked over at the man behind the wheel. He was older, probably in his thirties, handsome. He turned and looked at Alan. This time Alan didn't look away. When the man smiled at him, he smiled back.

  The man got out of his car and went into the bathroom. Alan wasn't sure what to do. His lack of experience with cruising was showing itself. He decided to get out of the car and eat his lunch at the picnic table. He sat down and started to munch, slowly. The man had been in the john for a long time. Should I go in there? Is that what he's waiting for?

  Still unsure, Alan remained at the table. He tried to eat his burger, but his mouth was dry. He sipped his Coke. Feeling his anxiety rise, he made up his mind that this was a mistake. Alan started to get up. The door to the john opened and the man came out. He smiled at Alan and started to walk toward him. Alan stood by the table.

  "Hi," the man said. "What's your hurry?"

  "I gotta get back to work," Alan said, his heart pounding in his ears.

  "Can't you give me just a few minutes of your time? It shouldn't take too long. Come on, take a little walk with me."

  "I don't know. I really should be getting back."

  The man shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said and walked off toward the woods.

  Alan was in conflict. The guy was good-looking, and Alan felt an attraction to him. Yet, something in him held him back. However, when the man walked away Alan robotically followed.

  Once inside the cool dimness, the guy turned to him and said, "Changed your mind, huh?"

  Alan didn't say anything.

  The man laughed, "The shy type, are we? Well, can you at least let me know what kinda stuff you like to do?"

  Alan didn't know what to say. He just shrugged his shoulders.

  "Oh, come on," the guy said smiling, "I want to make sure we have a good time. Tell me what you'd like."

  "I really don't know what to tell you," Alan said embarrassed and wishing he had never followed the guy. "Look, I'm sorry if I wasted your time, but I really gotta get back to work."

  "Well, that's not gonna happen just yet."

  The man's manner abruptly changed, he pulled out a badge and said, "Officer Wilson, vice squad. You're under arrest for open and gross, lewd and lascivious behavior."

  Alan went numb. What had he done? He'd merely followed the officer into the woods and answered his questions. He certainly hadn't done anything lewd or lascivious. He felt like he was going to be sick.

  "Come on," said the cop and walked Alan out of the woods and to his car, putting him in the passenger seat. Alan couldn't think. All he wanted to do was to wake up and make this all go away. He mutely showed the man his driver's license when it was requested and listened while he called in on his radio to check for prior arrests. There were none. Then he watched as the officer wrote out the citation. Maybe there'll just be a fine and that'll be it, Alan hoped, thinking of his parents, his job and reputation.

  The detective turned to him, handing him the ticket. "You're to appear in court on Monday morning at eight. You'll be processed first, then the judge will hear your case and give you the sentence. Report to the address on the citation," he said as he handed him a copy of the ticket.

  What about innocent until proven guilty, Alan thought but said, "Yes, sir."

  "You're free to go for now. But if you don't appear Monday a warrant will be issued for your arrest."

  Alan got out of the officer's car and went to his own. He got in and fumbled with the keys, his hands were shaking. He finally started the engine and began to drive out of the parking lot. He looked at the officer who was still sitting in his vehicle. The cop saluted him. As he headed up the long drive, another car was coming in. A lone man was behind the wheel. Alan wanted to warn him, but kept on driving, just wanting to put as much distance as he could between himself and Delph Lake Municipal Park.

  * * * *

  Alan went back to work but probably should have just gone home. He went through the motions like a zombie, making a long series of mistakes. Elise was all over him about them and expressing serious concern. Alan knew she was worried about him and only wanted to help, but he just wanted her to leave him alone.

  At home it was even worse. How Alan got through the weekend he would never know. His mother hovered over him, certain he was coming down with something serious. It was easier for him to play along with that, as he could never explain what was really going on. He let her take his temperature and fix him her special chicken broth. He put his foot down though when she tried to get him to go to the hospital for emergency treatment.

  All through Friday to Monday he was beset by waves of anxiety. He feared he would be thrown in jail. Even if that didn't happen, he could lose his job. These arrests were published in the local papers. Why had he ever gone back to the park? He knew the answer. Because despite what he was going through now, he still wanted to see Tom again.

  Alan went over and over the sequence of events on Friday. He couldn't see what he had done in order to warrant being arrested. He slept fitfully, often dreaming that he and Officer Wilson were engaged in behaviors which clearly would have resulted in an arrest. Or he dreamed that he was in prison and sat alone in a dull, dark cell with a shadowy figure passing back and forth ominously outside. In one dream Tom was standing just outside his cell laughing at him.

  But the worst of the weekend came on Sunday. He was sitting with his father in the family r
oom trying to concentrate on a baseball game. His mother had walked through the family room and gone upstairs with a basketful of folded laundry. Suddenly Alan's brain began to function. She's taking clothes up to my room. The fuckin' citation is on the dresser!

  Alan bolted out of his chair. Dusty jumped to his feet, startled from his sleep next to Alan on the couch. His dad looked up. "What the hell?" he said evidently as startled as the dog. But Alan was too late. His mother was walking back into the room, her head bowed, squinting at a piece of paper she held in her hands. Alan swallowed hard.

  "Alan, dear," she said, confusion showing in her voice.

  'This seems to be a traffic ticket but it says the violation is open and gross, lewd and lascivious behavior." She looked at him with a bewildered expression. "You're to appear in court on Monday?"

  "Gimme that, woman," his dad said, getting up out of his chair and taking the citation from her hand. He stared at it for a time then looked at Alan. "What's this all about, son?"

  Alan sank back onto the sofa. Dusty crawled into his lap. Alan closed his eyes and sighed.

  "Alan," his father said almost too quietly, "you want to talk about this?"

  No, Alan didn't want to talk about it. He just wanted it to go away. He'd been on a roller coaster ride ever since he had decided to stop fighting his feelings of attraction to men, and this was definitely a low point. He didn't respond to his father's question. He just sat on the couch with his head down while softly stroking Dusty. The dog seemed to be his only refuge right now.

  "Yes, dear," his mother chimed in. "This must be some sort of mistake. You would never...I mean you aren't someone who would do...I just don't understand," she said, looking from Alan to her husband.

  He felt like the time his father had caught him smoking behind the garage. Alan took a deep breath. He knew he had to say something. "It is a mistake...sort of."