Simon's Mansion

by William Poe

  Simon wasn’t sure Thad would be satisfied, but he was grateful for the support.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  To operate his business, Simon needed the equipment he’d originally brought with him to the mansion but that he’d left with a friend whom he’d met after Lenny died, a time when Simon went out to bars in Little Rock and drank heavily. Dean Pickett was a former Jesuit priest who understood Simon’s struggles better than most, having been a counselor who dealt with the drug addictions among college students. Before entering rehab, Simon had asked Dean to take the computer, which held his business files, and video equipment used to copy preview tapes, all of which Simon had thrown into the trunk of his car before driving away from Hollywood. Dean had thought the request signaled that Simon might be preparing for suicide and explained his concern to Vivian, whom Dean had met on visits to the mansion. “Simon is showing classic signs,” he told her. Dean’s fears might have materialized if Thad had not intervened and escorted Simon through the doors of a rehab center.

  Simon had only spoken to Dean once in recent days, to express his gratitude for never giving up on him and for consoling Vivian while he was in rehab, as well as being a friend to Thad.

  “You think you can make a go of it from Sibley?” Dean asked when Simon called and told him of the new plans.

  “I have to try,” Simon said. “Time will tell. If things don’t work out, I’ll sell the equipment and figure out something else.”

  “It’s good to have you back. Everyone missed you.”

  “You mean at the bars?” Simon sounded surprised.

  “No, my friend, I mean your family—Vivian, Connie and Derek, and your nieces. It’s not what I do anymore, but at their request, I came to the mansion to pray with them while you were in rehab. They needed to hear from someone who understood what was happening, especially after you nearly jumped off that bridge right after you got there.”

  Simon preferred to forget how crazy he had become when a fellow rehabber challenged him about being gay. Something had snapped in Simon’s mind, and he wanted his pain to be gone for good. Vivian, Connie, and Thad, along with sympathetic words from Harris, Simon’s counselor, had enticed him to take another chance on life.

  The news about Dean holding the prayer meeting gave Simon a chill. He’d always thought of Dean as a secular friend, despite Dean’s history in the clergy, and didn’t want to picture him praying. “I’m sure they appreciated it,” Simon allowed, then, “Was Thad part of it?” Simon couldn’t imagine such a scenario—Thad had long proclaimed his atheism.

  Dean smiled. “Thad handled it well. He took my advice and said that his own beliefs didn’t allow prayer in groups and that he would be upstairs. Connie really wanted to dig into it, but Vivian gave her such a look. Thad stayed upstairs until later and joined us for dinner. Derek cooked steaks on the grill, and Connie prepared boiled potatoes and wonderfully seasoned corn. I visited Vivian a few times, but the family came over just that once. I’m not sure if Thad mentioned that he stayed at my house quite a bit while you were away, but mostly he tended to Vivian.”

  “I’m glad he had you as a friend.”

  Simon set up an office upstairs in a bedroom that had not been used in many years and contacted an agent with whom he had worked in the past, a businessman who had relationships with buyers in the smaller foreign markets. The agent negotiated a deal for a market that included Pacific island nations and wired a portion of the proceeds to an account that Simon had established at Sibley Commerce Bank. As a precaution to hide his whereabouts, Simon asked the agent to send Wally’s portion directly to him. The deal was the speediest Simon had ever managed, placing sorely needed cash in his pocket and allowing him to proceed with plans to fix up the barn.

  Simon installed halogen lights in the ceiling and dusted off the tarpaulin that had once shielded Lenny’s bush hog tractor, an item that Vivian had sold after Lenny’s death to help pay hospital expenses not covered by Medicaid, which Lenny was forced to seek despite protesting that government assistance offended his sense of pride. The tarpaulin, cut into several pieces, covered Simon’s paintings to prevent dust from the corral sticking to the wet paint.

  Within a few months, five large paintings covered the walls, and ten assemblage sculptures filled the former horse stalls. Arranging objects from his childhood into three-dimensional constructions, Simon reexamined his life. Roller skates, stuffed animals, marbles, and other items grew from a workbench made of broken furniture, the painter in Simon decking out the array in a sequence of nostalgically somber tones. Another piece, incorporating items discarded during efforts to remodel the mansion’s interior, took shape in the form of a 1950s sunburst ceiling lamp, painted gold and attached to a metal stand with an antique telephone. Simon called the piece Time Communicator and the workbench Alien Builder.

  In the best of all possible worlds, Simon’s art would sell, and he could withdraw from the business affairs that put him at risk of being discovered by the Spanish company to whom he owed such a large sum of money; but with no credentials, he saw limited prospects. A bona fide novice might create a stir with unschooled art, but Simon’s paintings spoke of familiarity with Modernism; as a former university art student, he could never pretend naiveté, despite those studies being cut short by his participation in Sun Myung Moon’s errant crusade.

  Simon thought about going back to school and earning his credentials. He wondered if the university still had his records. Could he pick up where he’d left off?

  Thad and Simon lounged downstairs in the parlor when Vivian took a nap. “I’ve watched you paint out there in the barn, and I’ve never seen you happier,” Thad said. “But it’s so private. I don’t think you realize how many hours you work. Your mother is kind—I can even get along with your sister—but I’m going a bit stir-crazy.”

  “What are you thinking about doing?”

  “Going back to LA.”

  “I don’t want to lose you,” Simon gasped. “Thad, I love you.”

  Thad pulled away from Simon and walked to the bedroom window. The wisteria, almost as old as the mansion itself, had overwhelmed the trellis and attached itself to the timbers, curlicue runners crisscrossing the screen. Simon’s heart filled with ancient dread as he watched Thad at the window. Was this to be the end of Thad and Simon?

  “When I was in rehab,” Thad began, “you were all I could think about. The counselor cautioned me to focus on myself, but I remembered how good you had been to me and what an asshole I had been toward you.”

  “I have to admit that during my bout of hepatitis B, when you disappeared in my car to see that Marvin guy in San Diego, and the time you ran off with Cicero to spite me, I wanted to knock your brains out.”

  Thad’s look of despair made Simon regret bringing up the hurts of the past. The truth about his illness was that he had contracted it when cheating on Thad at MIFED after they’d first met, and he would always bear responsibility for having introduced Thad to cocaine. The craziness of their addiction had caused Thad to lash out, at the expense of poor Cicero.

  “Don’t go right away,” Simon pleaded.

  “I’m not in a hurry. I don’t know what’s best.” Thad came away from the window and kissed Simon. “I didn’t mean that I want us to break up. You started talking about starting up your business again. I don’t know. I have the crazy idea that I could go out there and make enough money to support the two of us.”

  Simon pictured in his mind an old map with the words There be monsters—a sailor’s fear that demons lay in wait for those venturing beyond safe harbor. Simon knew that cocaine waited for them like a stalking beast. Working on his art in Sibley filled Simon with life as surely as cocaine threatened his destruction. Vivian needed Simon—more reason for him to stay—and despite unpleasant memories from his childhood, the mansion was home. Thad, however, was unmoored outside their love.

  “I’m bored out of my mind,” Thad confessed. “Sibley is a ghost town.”

 
“What if we both go to college?”

  The question made Thad smile. “Do you have any idea how bad my grades were in high school? I barely managed to get my diploma.”

  “But you’re smart,” Simon insisted.

  “School bored me to death, and so did Idaho. Do you know the name of the city where I grew up?”

  “I forget.”

  “It was called Mile Run. The saying in town was that a person had to run a mile to find a neighbor.”

  “Sibley isn’t that bad,” Simon argued.

  “Not as bad as Mile Run, but if I walk to the grocery store where Vivian used to work, guess what, it’s a mile! I’m lucky to see three shoppers, and if they know who I am, they start gossiping about the queer boy who came home with Simon from California.”

  “They do not.”

  “Yes, they do. I overheard a conversation just like that.”

  “Okay, maybe. But people around here gossip about the Powell family no matter what we do. It goes all the way back to the beginning, when JT was killed. You know, we used to hang an effigy on Halloween—dangled it from the tree out front to dare anyone to step foot on the property.”

  “And that’s another thing! All these stories! Who gives a fuck? It’s ancient history, Simon. You tell me these things like they happened yesterday, and like they matter. No one cares! I’ll admit it. I can’t stand this place.”

  “Are you saying you don’t want to go back to school?”

  Thad laughed again. “You do that to me every time.”

  “I don’t know what to say, Thad. This creaky old mansion, the stories, the portraits hanging in the hallway, the family graveyard across the street—they’re in my DNA. This place is me.”

  “I’m just bored. I need something to do.”

  “What kind of job would make you happy?”

  “Working in porn.”

  Now it was Simon’s turn to laugh. “That came out of the blue. Are you serious?”

  Thad didn’t smile back.

  “Sibley isn’t exactly the porn capital of North America.”

  “I’m serious,” Thad insisted.

  Simon started for the bedroom door.

  “Don’t freak out on me,” Thad called after him. “Listen for a minute.”

  “How can I not freak out? Was I fooling myself to think we could be lovers? If you can have sex with just anyone, you aren’t in love with me.”

  “Simon, it’s as if the modern world passed you by.”

  “It did.”

  “You mean all those years you were in that religious cult, or whatever it’s called?”

  “We believed that having sex was a sacred act, that it should only happen after a man and woman are married. It’s hard to shake that kind of conditioning. I came close to killing myself because I knew, deep down, I’d never stop desiring sex with a man, and giving into that would mean Satan had won my soul. Now I accept the fact that I’m gay, but I can’t forget the idea that fidelity to your partner means something.”

  “So am I the devil?” Thad fashioned his index fingers into a set of horns and placed them on either side of his forehead.

  “You joke, Thad, but those beliefs still affect me. You find it easy not to believe in God, but I don’t know what I believe. At least when I’m in the studio, I’m able to stare down my demons.”

  Thad put a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Simon. I know you struggle with your past. I was lucky to be brought up by unbelievers—probably the only thing I appreciate about my upbringing. I was never any good at science, but at least I understood the point of it.”

  “Going back to what you suggested, Thad, even if you wanted to do it, I doubt there are pornographers in Arkansas.”

  Thad squinted. “They’d be shooting scenes with farm animals if there were.”

  “I hope you’re not willing to go that far.”

  Thad rolled his eyes. “Joking, for God’s sake. When you were sick with hepatitis B, and I was in San Diego, I met someone in the porn business.”

  “Let’s be clear, Thad. You weren’t simply in San Diego. You took my car and disappeared when I needed you most.”

  “Your illness scared me, Simon. Our relationship scared me.”

  “And being with the HIV-positive marine didn’t?”

  “Simon, I’ve told you the story. The marine’s name was Marvin. I’d known him since before I met you, since the times I went to San Diego on weekends—I liked the nude beach. That’s where I met Marvin. I was planning to leave you once you recovered. I thought I was in love with Marvin. When he tested positive, I couldn’t handle it. That’s why I took pills to kill myself. When I felt myself fading, you were the person on my mind, not Marvin. I called you to say good-bye, but after we hung up, Marvin found me and dialed 911. After I got better, I went to the Spotlight and found you sitting right where we had our first drink. You forgave me, and here we are.”

  “I heard a different story about your suicide attempt.”

  “Who told you a different story?”

  “Patricia. According to her, you thought I’d forget about you if I believed you were dead, and then the marine and you could go on with your lives. I believed her until you showed up at the bar…without Marvin.”

  “That queen would have said anything to turn you against me. She’s always been in love with you.”

  Patricia was among the craziest of Simon’s friends from the Spotlight Bar, but she had cared for him after Thad disappeared, when hepatitis had made Simon so weak, he couldn’t even make it to the toilet. Patricia had proved to be a good friend, though even then, Simon knew she wished it to be more.

  “As soon as you kissed me that night at the bar when it seemed you had risen from the dead, I was yours,” Simon confessed.

  “I don’t know how to explain it,” Thad said, struggling. “Except that love can be overwhelming.”

  “My anger can be worse. I will never let you make me as mad as when you took Cicero.”

  “I was drunk when I did that, Simon. I’d never hurt little Cicero. I wanted to bring him back as soon as I sobered up, but you were crazy with rage.”

  “How did we get into this conversation?” Simon interjected. “What has all this got to do with pornography?”

  “That’s what I was trying to explain. Marvin had a friend who made gay videos—mostly guys pretending to be straight and sucking dick for the first time, stuff like that. I did the sound effects. The job paid good money. When I said I wanted to work in porn, I didn’t mean performing. I’d just add sound effects after the filming ends. You know, postproduction stuff.”

  “And you’re still in touch with this pornographer?”

  “If the guy’s phone number hasn’t changed. It’s been a long time since I spoke to him.”

  “We’d need quarter-inch machines and a mixing board if you worked from here, and that equipment’s expensive. We’d have to set up a recording studio in the barn. Can you imagine if Vivian or, God forbid, Connie or Derek heard you slurping and moaning!”

  “It is a noisy business.” Thad chuckled. “Let me talk to the guy. I’m sure he’ll remember me. Let me find out if I can work from here. Maybe he’d supply the equipment. Who knows.”

  Thad was right that Simon tended to be old fashioned, but to Simon, this felt like flirting with the devil.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Howard Price, the pornographer Thad had worked for in the past, now lived in Chatsworth, a suburb north of Hollywood. Thad had to get a new number from Marvin, admitting to Simon that he and Marvin had kept in touch and arguing that Simon would have been upset if he had known. Simon bristled at Thad’s statement but realized that, even as he was managing to get in touch with himself along the quest for self-discovery, Thad still felt the need to protect his feelings.

  “It’s good that Marvin is responding to AZT,” Simon told Thad. “Please don’t be afraid to tell me things.”

  Simon could tell that Thad wanted to say more.r />
  “I haven’t called Howie yet,” Thad said. “I wanted to talk to you first.”

  “Howie? Cute nickname.”

  “See, already you’re making something of it.”

  “You’re right, the idea of you staring at naked hunks all day bothers me.”

  “You can watch with me if I work from here.”

  “Sounds exhausting,” Simon quipped.

  “You get used to the images—after a while, there’s nothing sexy about them. It’s only work and not easy to do. I used a lot of lip balm when I was working before; it takes hours.”

  “It’s important you never mention my name. You realize that, right? I don’t know what the Spaniards are thinking. If they want to find me, they’ll ask around Hollywood. Howard Price wouldn’t know me, but I bet he knows Wally Freeze. Wally made hardcore videos before he got out of the business to make his wrestling tapes and the like.”

  “I won’t say anything,” Thad assured, picking up the phone to place the call, fingers crossed for good luck.

  Howard remembered Thad, commenting that he had been the best, making the most believable sounds of anyone on his staff. But he couldn’t think of a way for Thad to work remotely. Instead he offered to fly Thad to Hollywood whenever a video entered postproduction and to let him stay at the Antelope Valley ranch, where Howard ran Chatsworth Price Productions. To keep Howard from knowing his whereabouts, Thad claimed not to have his own phone, saying that he would check in from time to time. Howard agreed to leave a message with his secretary when a film entered postproduction.

  When the first opportunity arose, Simon panicked.

  “Thad, are you sure this is a good idea? The pornographers I knew about in Hollywood were into some pretty heavy drugs. I’m worried sick about you going out there, especially staying at Howard’s ranch. I visited William Higgins’s house once. His ‘stars’ hung out there before filming. Higgins thought that if they paired up on their own, they’d produce steamier sex on screen. You’ll be tempted by sex and drugs. I know you’re determined to remain clean—but still.”

  “That porn star, Jerry, living with Scott, told me about Higgins when I was staying there during that long breakup of ours.” Thad had brought up another contentious situation from their past.