Simon's Mansion

by William Poe

  A choir loft, spacious enough to seat fifty choristers, rose behind an alabaster pulpit framed by green velvet curtains, which remained closed, except during baptisms, when they opened to reveal a four-foot wall of glass holding back sacred waters depicted on a painted diorama of the river Jordan, the image complete with desert sands and waving palm trees, as if the minister in his hip boots and white baptismal gown, weighted at the bottom edge to keep the material from floating, stood in at the midst of a blossoming oasis.

  Twelve boys awaited redemption the Sunday evening Simon’s name appeared on the schedule—the church’s tradition required boys and girls to participate on alternate Sundays. A middle-aged man, handsome and fit, dressed in dark slacks with a crisp seam and a white shirt with French cuffs (Simon noticed the brilliant opal settings of the cufflinks) escorted Simon into a changing room, similar to the fitting rooms at the J. C. Penney where Vivian bought his school clothes. The man shut the door for privacy as Simon began to undress.

  “You won’t be naked under the gown,” the man assured, as Simon stood before him in his underpants. The man took a pair of boy-sized jockey shorts from his back pocket. “Let’s slip you into these so yours will be dry when you return.”

  Before Simon had a chance to comply, the man hooked his thumbs through the elastic waistband of his shorts and tugged them to the floor. Simon ground his teeth to resist the feel of the man’s hairy arm raking across his body as he reached around his waist to insert each foot through the shorts. Simon feared for his salvation as his body reacted, and the man pinched the front of his shorts through the white gown. He had just slipped the gauzy material over Simon’s head and made sure the hem fell evenly around the ankles. “This will go away as soon as you step into the cold water,” the man said with a nervous laugh. “Anyway, the gown will keep it hidden.”

  Boys had begun to queue near an antechamber outside the baptismal font. As each boy received the go-ahead, indicated by a hand signal from the attendant, the next boy in line passed through a door, having been instructed beforehand to carefully descend the font’s three steps into the water—steps representing acceptance of the Trinity. As Simon left the dressing room to take his place in line, frightened the other boys would see evidence of his sinful heart, the man bent down and whispered, “Come back after you’re baptized, and I’ll dry you off.” Simon nodded weakly and joined the procession. Contrary to what the man had said about the gown, Simon clearly saw that each boy wore shorts similar to his and wondered if their attendants had also helped them change out of their clothes.

  The moment of his salvation approaching, Simon found himself tainted by the thoughts he hoped to escape, desires he knew were wrong, inflamed by the touch of the man in the dressing room. Simon struggled with his feelings until he concluded that the man was Satan; the devil had made a last attempt to sway him from salvation.

  The boy in front of Simon in the procession climbed from the waters on the other side of the baptismal font with the help of an attendant. Simon began his descent down the treacherous steps, finding himself in water almost as deep as he was tall; his gown, puffed with air, caused him to float toward the pastor, anchored by his hip boots and weighted garment. Simon fought to keep the fabric of his gown from rising around him, frantically chopping the cold water. In a quick motion, the minister pulled Simon forward, placed a rough hand over his nose and mouth, and dipped him backward, invoking the names of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. The minister raised Simon’s head from the water and set him in the direction of the exit. The attendant grabbed Simon’s arm and pulled him from the water, the gown quickly deflating into a second skin.

  “Is it done?” Simon asked, to a slight chuckle from the attendant. Simon had forgotten to repent during the minister’s appeal to the triune God. Remembering instructions given by his Sunday School teacher that salvation depended upon repentance at that moment of submersion, Simon wondered if salvation had taken effect. He barely recalled the sequence of events that had just occurred, his focus remaining on the gown that adhered so tightly to his flesh.

  The attendant provided an arm for balance, placing sandals at Simon’s feet and pointing toward the dressing room, down a corridor of linoleum tiles with rubber footprints to provide traction and lead the way. Simon spotted the man from the dressing room assisting another boy and scurried as fast as he could to reach his clothes, finding them folded on a bench, except for the promised dry shorts. Simon scrambled from his wet garments, dried off with the flimsy towel provided, and slipped into his suit pants—rough against his body—tucked in his shirt, slipped on his socks, and stepped into his black loafers, his heart racing as he joined the other boys in the room where the parents had been told to wait.

  “It’s a blessing your boy found Jesus at such a young age,” the man from the dressing room said to Vivian. The man parted his lips slightly as he looked down at Simon, patting his coat pocket where the underpants made a slight bulge.

  Vivian smiled, taking Simon by the hand and leading him into the sanctuary, too briskly for Simon to keep up easily due to the roughness of the chafing suit. If Jesus had entered Simon’s heart during submersion, he’d left just as quickly, recognizing an unrepentant soul—or so Simon surmised. An overwhelming sense of disappointment clouded Simon’s mind.

  Vivian never understood why Simon threw tantrums at the mere suggestion that he attend church services following his baptism, flying into fits of rage that no threat of punishment would quieten. But Simon could not bear the thought of sitting in the sanctuary, pondering the miracle of salvation through the blood of Jesus Christ as he scanned every face for the man from the dressing room, damnably hoping that if they met again, the man would wrap his muscular arms around his waist, and Simon again would know the touch of a caressing hand.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Vivian never used the word boyfriend when referring to the relationship between Simon and Thad after they arrived (Simon used the word escaped) from Hollywood, Simon having lost to addiction everything except the contents of his house, belongings that Thad, Simon’s tall and spritely boyfriend, transported to Sibley in a rental truck, volunteering to help in the hope that Simon would take him back after a period of estrangement that saw Thad go into rehab for dependence on cocaine, followed by Simon. Vivian preferred to think of Thad as Simon’s companion. A relationship as close as companion allowed Vivian, when she saw a certain look in their eyes and knew they were about to sneak a kiss, to divert her gaze and pretend it was merely a companionable gesture.

  Connie and Derek never visited the mansion without asking Thad when he planned to go back to Hollywood. Only gradually did Simon’s sister and brother-in-law realize the nature of their relationship. Connie’s first thought was one of gratitude that Lenny had not lived to see it. Lenny and Vivian had suffered enough during Simon’s involvement with a fringe religious group—the Moonies, people called them—listening as relatives condemned Simon, enduring the pity of friends horrified that an Antichrist, and an Asian one at that, had stolen Simon’s young adult life. Connie blamed Simon’s rejection of his Christian heritage for his later descent into cocaine use and, now, homosexuality. Lenny’s heart surely would have given out sooner if he had known the truth about Simon.

  Derek avoided thinking about the relationship between Simon and Thad because it contradicted his belief that his work with Connie, opposing Sun Myung Moon’s Unification Church by traveling a lecture circuit to conservative church groups, would result in Simon’s rescue and his return to Christ, never acknowledging that Simon seemed to have left the church long before his teenage years. Further confounding Derek, Simon had been married to a Japanese woman while a member of the Unification Church. Simon and Masako had visited after their marriage, and they seemed happy. Masako played dolls with Cheryl and Victoria, instantly winning them over and leading to Simon’s nieces calling her Aunt Masako. She similarly charmed everyone else in the family, even disarming Lenny, who had responded with a racial slur fr
om World War II when Simon announced his betrothal. Masako, who had been a nurse before joining the church, gave Lenny advice about changing to a healthier diet, suggesting foods Lenny actually liked and that Vivian could prepare, followed by what Lenny described as the best shoulder rub he had ever received—shiatsu, which Masako had studied as an apprentice in Japan. Masako won over Vivian by helping her prepare dinner the night Simon and Masako stayed at the mansion.

  Derek concluded that Simon’s drug use, and then his decision to divorce Masako after leaving the apostate church, were steps along Simon’s path to godlessness. Derek would never give up hope that Simon might again return to Christ. Until then, he would refrain from further condemnation and accept Thad as Simon’s friend, but no more than that.

  Since leaving rehab, Simon had begun to think about the lucrative business he had established in Los Angeles after working for an Italian entrepreneur introduced to him by his friends from a law firm he had hired while still in the church. What opportunities he had let slip, and what a disaster at the end when he’d entrusted daily affairs to his secretary, Charlotte, who, while Simon was en route from Hollywood to Sibley, had stolen over $200,000 when it arrived from a deal Simon had concluded with a company in Spain. Charlotte could have had no idea she was taking money the Spaniards wanted Simon to use for procurement of new films to release on the Spanish video market. Though Simon had hoped to keep his own involvement legal, he knew the Spaniards intended to use the movies to launder profits from drug smuggling and distribution of pornography into countries where such films were banned. Simon didn’t know where Charlotte had gone after the theft, but he knew that Rudy, the mutual friend who’d introduced them, had helped her.

  During rehab, Simon’s counselor had advised him to reflect on his life and learn to accept the many experiences that had led him to depend on cocaine. Worry about Charlotte’s theft and the dread of being pursued once the Spaniards realized he had disappeared threatened to derail Simon’s path of recovery, but as much as possible, Simon tried to follow his counselor’s advice and continue to examine his life, as he had done during rehab. He realized how the prospect of living a celibate life as a follower of Sun Myung Moon had given him permission to set aside his personal struggles, celibacy being the sacrifice required of members until Moon chose a spouse for them. Because the group emphasized the importance of marriage, Simon came to believe that anything interfering with the union of a husband and wife, especially homosexuality, was Satanic by definition, and he wholeheartedly believed that on the day Sun Myung Moon joined him to his betrothed in holy marriage, the oppression of his feelings for other men would be lifted, and the salvation promised in youth through baptism would find realization through the rituals of the new messiah. When nothing changed following the church’s ceremonies—communion wine spiked with a drop of Sun Myung Moon’s blood, caning in an act reminiscent of Jacob wrestling God’s angel at the Ford of Jabbok, the mass wedding ceremony itself, when the messiah and his wife sprinkled holy water on the participants—Simon never lost hope for the realization of his long-awaited miracle. But after he went back to his work helping lawyers prepare an appeal to Sun Myung Moon’s conviction on charges of income tax evasion and conspiracy to defraud the IRA, affections for his own sex grew even stronger. Simon descended into despair and, within months, left the church, choosing to party with his newfound friends from the law firm—Scott Mansfield, a young gay lawyer, and Sandra Banks, the firm’s ribald secretary, introduced him to the dangerous comfort of cocaine—and male hustlers.

  Vivian knew nothing of Simon’s struggles—with faith, drugs, or sexuality—but she recognized the deep loneliness Simon experienced when the thousands of church members he had called brothers and sisters turned their backs on him after he left the group. She was happy that Simon and Thad were together, though she could never have comprehended their ordeal with cocaine or the near-murderous fights in which they engaged along the way. Vivian wished Lenny were alive now that Simon had come home, unaffiliated with the strange religion that had torn the family apart; she thought Lenny would have understood Simon’s struggle with addiction, and she would have helped Lenny find a way to accept Thad.

  Vivian understood how desperately Lenny’s death had affected Simon, happening so soon after he’d abandoned his faith. Reconciliation might not have been possible, but Simon mourned the fact he would never have the chance to try.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Some months after Thad arrived from Los Angeles and Simon completed his time in rehab, Vivian’s sister reminded her of a long-planned family reunion in their hometown of Magnolia. Vivian asked Simon to take her, with trepidation, knowing that Simon resented her family because of the way they’d spoken about him in the past but hoping the reunion might offer a chance at reconciling. Simon agreed, though he knew Vivian wouldn’t want Thad to join them. Then Vivian asked Simon, “See if Thad wants to go.”

  Simon wasn’t worried about having to tell Vivian that Thad had agreed to go, aware that the idea of visiting another hole-in-the-wall town was more than Thad would be able to think about. Sibley, with a population of less than two thousand at the last census, served well enough to invoke memories of a childhood in Idaho that Thad preferred to forget. Besides, if Thad went, Simon would be put upon to lie about their relationship—or worse, tell the truth to his small-town relatives and be chased out of town with pitchforks. Neither option, lie or speak the truth, seemed like a good idea. Better to avoid the situation entirely.

  “I’ll stay put and catch up on the backlog of daytime dramas that Vivian recorded,” Thad responded when Simon asked; then, going into the parlor, made sure Vivian knew he appreciated the invitation.

  Vivian’s 1979 canary-yellow Pontiac Grand Prix needed new spark plugs, service on the transmission, and at least to get the tires retreaded, but Simon trusted the durable car would make it to Magnolia and back. The morning he and Vivian set out, mist still crept along the grass from the swamp making up the lower part of the property and feeding a pond that had served to water the horses and other animals Lenny had kept as long as he was able, trailing past the corral and around the house all the way to the base of JT’s red oak, mist that was soon to burn off as the sun’s rays crept down the trunks of the tall pines that dominated the woods on both sides of the mansion. Simon could not recall a time since childhood that he had been alone with his mother for any length of time. The opportunity allowed him to broach questions he’d frequently mulled over since Lenny died. Generally, Simon couched his words in euphemism when speaking to Vivian, but this time he decided on a direct approach, asking straightforwardly, “Why did Lenny hate me so much? Did he know I was gay?”

  Vivian didn’t seem surprised, but after addressing the first part with a simple statement, she chose to answer the second using anecdote. Speaking in a halting voice as she struggled through the effects of a recent stroke that had affected her motor skills but left her mind intact, Vivian offered, “Honey, your father didn’t hate you. Lenny used to see Dr. Stanley when he got sick. You know he went to the funeral when her friend died.”

  Dr. Stanley, an unmarried woman in her sixties when Simon was a boy, had lived with a companion of thirty years in a house on the edge of the county, set back from the main road down a wooded lane of poplar trees and known for multicolored azaleas that bloomed profusely in the spring, The community referred to her as a spinster, even though they knew the truth. Simon too had always understood what was going on with Pat Stanley, who lived as a couple with her friend. No Sibley resident suggested inappropriateness in their relationship—after all, Dr. Stanley had delivered many of their children.

  Vivian reasoned that if Lenny had found out about Simon, he would not have hated his son, but even so, some things were better left unspoken. Simon had understood that. He never told Lenny, or Vivian, that the men who came with him on the long drive from Los Angeles to Sibley each Christmas were more than traveling companions. Simon had no doubt what Lenny would have
said about his sleeping in the same bed with Thad—the memory of Lenny’s reaction to Liberace remained a guidepost. Still, Vivian provided a comforting image, one of Lenny sitting in the pew at the funeral of his lesbian doctor’s companion. That was enough to settle the issue for Vivian, and, through her story, to let Simon know she understood his relationship with Thad. Simon could never be sure what Lenny’s reaction to Thad might have been, but more importantly, taking a cue from his counseling in rehab—did it matter?

  Sunlight filtered through the old-growth forest along the highway, left intact to hide the less comely forest of pine trees behind them, planted and quickly harvested by a northern company since the days of Reconstruction to provide lumber and fencing, and mulch for paper mill in Pine Bluff, and shone directly overhead as Simon and his mother arrived at Vivian’s hometown, driving through a square picturesque with ancient magnolias, tall and wide, as if guarding the courthouse they surrounded. Simon lowered his window to savor the delicate aroma of the cream-colored blossoms and to admire the dark beauty of the waxy leaves in which they nestled. Vivian’s sister lived on a thirty-acre tomato farm two miles beyond the city limits, the house standing on the same plot of land as the dogtrot cabin built during pioneer days.