An Idol for Others (13 page)

They talked nonsense and laughed and ate an enormous breakfast and took turns in the bathroom. Walter was still naked when he emerged from it and found her, naked and immaculate, studying herself in front of a long mirror on the back of the closet door. She glanced at him over her shoulder with bold eyes. “You’ve made me feel so madly desirable. I wanted to see if I’d been transformed overnight.”

“You’re beautiful, Clarry,” he said, going to her. “You’ve got the loveliest body I’ve ever seen. Those long legs, your beautiful breasts, everything.” They stood side by side looking at each other in the mirror.

“We do make a handsome couple. You’re not looking quite as neat as you did.”

“I know. It’s ridiculous. I haven’t kept count, but it seems to me we’ve done pretty well for one night. Now look at me.”

“How lovely.” She reached for him and stroked him knowledgeably. “Oh, yes, we’re going to have to do something about this. That’s the point of being naked, so I can see when you want me. Come lie in our sinful sheets. I want to watch you getting big. That’s something I haven’t done. Try not to let it happen too quickly. I want to see how it works.”

She stretched him out on his back and curled up at his hip and continued to stroke him as he lengthened and filled out and hardened. When she had completed her feat, she held him upright and stroked him rapidly until he reached down and pulled her up to him.

“It’s miraculous,” she said. “I want to watch it all, from the beginning right to the end.”

“Sure,” he said, “but right now I want you to be my wife before we face the day.”

They walked together to the theater, and he felt the freedom burgeoning in him as he realized that there was no more need for a furtive entrance. They went in hand in hand, but being reminded of Philip caused a pang of what he regarded as unreasonable guilt at the thought of encountering him. He had nothing to feel guilty about. He had warned Philip that he liked girls. He had refused to be drawn into a declaration of love. He gave her hand a squeeze in front of the theater. “See you at lunch. I’ve got to go check in with David.” He found him in his office.

“Well.” David greeted him with a cheerful leer and tilt of his golden head. “It took you quite a time to calm the lady down.”

“Yeah.” Walter grinned at him. “I was furious with her for dragging me away, but it all worked out fine.”

“So now you are a man. Congratulations.”

“What about you?” If David gave a hint of something having happened with Philip, he could confront the boy with it and absolve himself of having encouraged false hopes, if that was what he had done.

“Me?” David looked blank.

Walter’s grin became suggestive. “Didn’t you have your swim with Philip?”

“Oh, that I had the impression it was more your swim than mine. Philip seemed to think so too. He wouldn’t go with me. Ah, well, he’s a bit pale and poetic for my robust tastes. I prefer girls to boy-girls. I gathered he’s sworn eternal fidelity to you.”

Walter’s grin vanished, and he felt a blush mounting to his cheeks. “What do you mean? He couldn’t have said anything like that.”

David’s leer became gleeful. “Not exactly, but it was inferred. You know me. I love to draw scandalous conclusions. Much to my regret, I have a feeling your secret is safe with your lovelorn lad.”

“Really, David. You’re impossible.” He dismissed the subject as airily as he could and hurried on. “If you want to know a real secret, I’m going to marry Clara.”

David’s eyes bulged. He looked suitably awed. “Well, well, well, do you mean it?”

“Sure. I don’t know exactly how or when, but it’s all agreed. What do you think of that?”

“My mind is boggling. You’re tougher than I thought. Don’t forget. There’s a Washburn around every tree.”

“I can manage them.”

“Spoken like a true member of the master race. We Fiedlers are easily intimidated.”

Walter laughed, exulting in his triumph and in making it public. “She’s marvelous. You just have to stand up to her. I raised hell with her last night. She’s going to apologize to you.”

“Clara? Apologize? Love conquers all.”

“I guess maybe it does. Hey, listen. I’m going to quit school. Do you think I can make a living in the theater?”

“Of course not. Nobody can.” David sobered and studied him for an unusually thoughtful moment. “Have you definitely made up your mind?”

“I think so. Well, of course I have. How else could Clara and I–I’ve been meaning to ask your advice for some time.”

“OK. I haven’t told you this because I didn’t want to influence you one way or the other. After all, getting a degree is important for most people, but maybe not for you. Steelman’s been very impressed by your work. The theater’s never operated so well. He’s ready to give you a job at the school, part-time, sort of carrying on as my assistant. He mentioned $20 a week, I think. You could get by. If you win the hand of the fair Clara, you’ll have him on his knees before you. We’ll have to find you a cheap room somewhere. You’re still welcome to share with me if you want.”

Walter stared at him incredulously, unable to take it in, feeling that so much good fortune couldn’t befall him in such a short time. “You’re going to have to say it all over again. My God, David, why haven’t you told me? Life is too good to believe.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts. There’s more, while we’re at it. I’ve told you about all the groups I’ve worked with over the years. The Bronx is crawling with them–Elks, Hadassah, the Church of the Holy Lamb. I don’t know what. They all want to put on what they call theatricals for fun and profit. I haven’t time for them anymore, but they still ask me. I could turn them over to you. They’ll drive you mad, but they’re good training, and they pay. With the school and a bit of luck, you should average over $50 a week. I’ve decided to give you the last two shows to direct on your own, with your name in the program and everything. It’ll give you something to talk about when you’re trying to impress a church board. You can branch out from there.” He rose and went to Walter and put a hand on his shoulder. “I hope you know what you’re doing with Clara.”

Walter flung his arms around him and hugged him and kissed him on the mouth. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. I love you, David.” He was overflowing with love and gratitude.

David stood for a moment with his eyes closed. “Fine. Now I’m your slave for life.” He opened his eyes, and his face sprang to life with playfulness and his sense of fun. “You don’t have any idea what you do to people, do you?”

“How do you mean?”

“Never mind. Just stay the simple, unspoiled monster we know and love. There’s a lot to be said against your getting married too soon. To tell the truth, I brought Philip out the other day because I thought you might want to broaden your experience. Versatility. It counts in this business. You never know who might hold the key to the big break. You’ve got to roll with the punches. Anyway, I don’t understand why some guys make such a fuss about having their cocks sucked. It’s very pleasant, and you can always close your eyes and think about somebody else if you don’t like who’s doing it. Those are my words of wisdom for today. We’ve got to get to work.”

Walter was aware of Philip’s hovering near him from time to time during the day. Their eyes met once, and he nodded and smiled. He took Clara into town for a quick dinner, bursting to share with her David’s promises and assurances. The day had given her time to reassemble her imposing facade, and she seemed less impressed than he had hoped.

She had a job backstage that week, and he delivered her to the stage door. He was walking around to the front when he found Philip barring his way. He was immediately impassive and on guard.

Philip moved close to him. “What’s the matter?” he demanded in a low voice, his enormous eyes beseeching.

“Nothing.”

“Please. You’ve got to tell me, no matter how bad it is. You look at me as if you’d never seen me before.”

“I’m sorry. Listen, Philip, we’ve got to pretend it never happened. I loved it, but I told you it probably couldn’t make sense for me. For a few days I thought it might, but something important happened between me and Clara. I’d appreciate your keeping quiet about us.”

“I see. Well, at least it’s not with another guy.”

Philip’s eyes looked dangerously close to tears. Briefly, remembering the way his body felt in his arms, Walter wanted to hold him again, but he shut out the thought. He was finished with childish games. He allowed himself to touch the boy’s arm lightly and went on his way. He felt no pull to turn back to him.

The past was tidily swept up and disposed of. He was keenly conscious of it during the evening as he took stock of the momentous past 24 hours. College was the past. He had work that would make it possible to defy his parents, who were the past too. He had found the love of his life and an introduction to circles beyond his wildest ambitions. The sense of being launched stayed with him. Going home with Clara after the show was a step into the future.

“Shall we go for a swim again?” she suggested when they reached the garage. “I’d like you to have me out of doors. It sounds wicked and dangerous.” She put on her robe and gathered up towels, and they returned to the scene of their initiation.

They got very little sleep for the rest of the summer. Walter didn’t move in with her. He kept most of his things at David’s in case anybody turned up who shouldn’t find out about their arrangement. He found that he had to conquer her nightly; it barely lasted through the following day. There was never a moment when he could take her for granted. It was the way he had expected it to be, and he thrived on it. It was a constant affirmation of his powers for he always ultimately triumphed over her. When he wielded his scepter, she obeyed.

She slowly unfolded the full extent of her impressive connections. Cousin George Wharton owned a Broadway theater. Uncle Perry ran some sort of organization that handed out grants to writers and esoteric theater groups, among others. Cousin Herbert Blair was an intimate of Roosevelt’s and was currently one of the heads of the WPA Theatre project that was doing exciting work on the fringes of Broadway. To Walter, every name was a stepping-stone to his own success, but if he suggested that one or another might be useful, she dismissed them all grandly as “my tiresome family.”

The seat of Washburn power was, in fact, Cleveland; but the family covered the country like a growth and spilled over into Europe. There were headlines that summer announcing ominous events across the sea, but they stirred little interest at the theater. Walter was more aware of them because Clara kept wondering what would happen to Cousin This or Aunt That if war actually came.

It did, but Walter was so absorbed in directing the last play of the season that he gave it little thought. Clara was playing a small part in it, one of several she had been given during the summer at Steelman’s insistence. Walter was surprised at how uninteresting she was as an actress. She looked splendid, but her personality didn’t come across. He was glad she had no ambitions in that direction. It made him uneasy for her to display any weakness.

The war was pushed further into the back of all their minds by the approaching move to New York. David had learned of a one-room apartment in his building that Walter could afford if David’s estimate of his income proved accurate. He had been in correspondence with his mother, whose letters were filled with prophecies of doom but who had agreed to gather up his possessions from Rutgers and home, including some essential furniture, and send them to David’s address.

The final performance was performed, and there was a party afterwards for all the theater’s personnel, including the apprentices. Most of them were to disperse the next day. David had offered to drive Walter and Clara to the city the day after. The party was boisterous and mildly drunken, and Walter was the center of much admiring attention for his success with the last two shows. He stayed close to Clara but was aware of Philip’s circling close to them during the evening. When he went out to have a pee under the trees, Philip stepped out of the shadows as he was headed back to the party. He stopped and let him approach. He and Clara were so firmly established as a couple in everybody’s minds that he wasn’t nervous at being seen with the boy.

“I gather I wouldn’t have had to take that job at Rutgers,” Philip said, his great eyes glowing in the dark.

“No, we’ll all be in the city together. I’ll be watching to see how you make out.”

“I’ll be OK. I know it probably doesn’t make much difference to you, but I wanted to tell you I don’t feel bad about anything. I’m still in love with you. You wanted me for a little while. I’m glad it happened. That’s a lot better than nothing.”

“Thanks for saying so. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You couldn’t.” Philip looked down. “Will you kiss me good-bye? It would mean a lot to me.”

Walter glanced around them and decided it was dark enough. “Of course.” He drew him closer and kissed his lips. He intended it as a chaste embrace, but suddenly their mouths were open to each other, their bodies writhed and clung, passionately locked. The feel of the body in his arms seemed a familiar need, deeply experienced. In seconds he recovered control. He broke away and glanced hastily around him. He saw nobody, but how could he be sure in the dark?

“Jesus,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. “It … it couldn’t work here. Do you understand? Maybe in the city–we’ll keep in touch.”

“It’s a nice idea. Thanks. For everything. I’ll never forget it.”

“Aren’t you coming back to the party?”

“Later, maybe. After that, I’d better wander around for a while.”

“OK. See you.” He gave his hand a squeeze and hurried away, badly shaken, eager to feel Clara more at the center of his life.

He spent a large part of the next day with David tidying up loose ends. There was a great bustle of departure back and forth between the theater and the dormitory. When he was helping David load files and office equipment into the station wagon, he heard somebody call a question about Philip and an answer being that he hadn’t slept there the night before. He wondered, with a twinge of unwelcome jealousy. The vow of fidelity discarded?