An Idol for Others (47 page)

He moved his hand over Tom’s face, across his brow, across his straight nose to his strong chin. He tapped it with a loosely closed fist. “There. That’s settled. Let’s get out of here.” He sprang out of bed and reached down and pulled Tom up with him. They stood face to face, their eyes level with each other, their midsections and thighs touching. Walter swept his hand over Tom’s shoulders and down his back to the trim, firm buttocks. They didn’t react to his touch. He lifted his hands to Tom’s waist and gave his mouth a quick kiss. “For heaven’s sake, put some clothes on. If you don’t, I’m going to want you again in a minute, and we’ll never get out of here.”

Tom laughed. “Maybe you know what you’re doing. I don’t.”

They jostled each other as they went to the chair where they had thrown their clothes. They quickly pulled on shorts and socks and trousers. Walter started to slip on his shirt. Tom remained bare-chested, his hands on his hips, watching him. Walter looked at him questioningly.

“Go on,” Tom ordered. “Finish dressing. I want to talk to you, but not till you’re ready to leave.”

Walter buttoned his shirt and tucked it in and pulled on his shoes. “I’m going to carry my tie and jacket. I’m ready.”

Tom smiled and shook his head. “You should see yourself. You’re adorable, but people might wonder.” He went to him and took his hand and led him to a mirror.

Walter chortled. His hair was in wild disarray. “I look as if I’d had a high old time in bed. Well, I have.” Tom handed him a comb, and he used it. “How’s that?”

“Fine. Now beat it. You may have other ideas, but you’re going to collect your award. A lot of people have gone to a lot of trouble for you. I’d never forgive myself if you didn’t show up. You can come back here afterward, and we’ll take off, or we can spend the night together and leave in the morning, or we can wait for a few days while you get yourself organized. Take your pick, but you’ve got to show up tonight.” He didn’t know how long he could remain firm, but he had to make the attempts. His eyes were spellbound by the famous impish face. He took a quick breath, and his voice came out in a taut undertone. “Walter. Walter. Let’s be careful, baby. Don’t let’s go too far until we’re sure.”

Walter stood in front of him with his hands on his naked shoulders. “When you say ‘we,’ everything you suggest is what I want to do, but you still haven’t got the picture. I can’t be away from you even for an hour. I found that out at lunch. I’m not going to risk it. We could go get the award together, but the minute Clara saw us, she’d know, and I’m not going to risk that either. God knows what she could do about it, but I’m sure she’d think of something.” A premonitory shiver ran down his spine. He looked at Tom intently as if the bond between them might become visible. His face was so firmly modeled and yet so expressive that it seemed to possess a number of personae, one superimposed on the other. As one replaced another, like slides, it became the definitive Tom, with no hidden areas in it, no suggestion that this was just one face of a complex personality. The country boy was gone, replaced by a friendly counselor, a doctor, or a lawyer. Walter gave his shoulders a little shake. “Come on, Tommy. I must be in love with you. It’s the first time I haven’t thought for an instant of running away from it. I can’t let anything go wrong. Don’t make me go to the award. Take pity on an old man.”

Tom smiled. “You won’t get very far with that line.” He swung them around to face the mirror. “Look at us. If anything, I look older. I know 50 isn’t Methuselah, but I don’t see how you’ve done it. It makes me want to go out and stock up on creams and lotions.” He made a face at the mirror and ran a finger from the side of his nose to the corner of his mouth. “Look at that Lines. You don’t have any.” He leaned to Walter and kissed his neck. “A sexy mole on an alabaster throat. It’s pure Dorian Gray.” He left Walter’s side to put on his jersey. He knew that he risked being carried away helplessly in the sweep of Walter’s personality. He was bewitched. He had touched only the surface of the depths of passion he sensed in this extraordinary man and was afraid to plumb them until he had regained some possession of himself.

He pulled the jersey on over his head and ran his fingers through his hair. Being dressed armed him. He had lived for 15 years as the willing servant to a friend on whom he had made no demands, and when death had ended it, he had found that he had been stripped of all his resources. He had painfully survived with the discovery that love must be demanding. Without demands, one became a cipher. He had resolved that if he ever fell in love again, he would start by staking out his own claims in the partnership–the way he wanted to live, for instance. The importance of his work. His sexual appetites, whatever they proved to be. He mustn’t let himself become Walter’s willing servant.

Walter stood beside him with a hand on his shoulder. “What are we waiting for?”

Tom resisted an impulse to put his arms around him. A slight tremor passed through him at his proximity. “I’m terrified of letting you do something you’ll regret.”

“Please, Tommy. You’ve got to get me out of here. You say you need somebody to build a life with. Don’t you think I know what that means?”

“I’m not sure. You don’t have any idea what you’re letting yourself in for. You haven’t a glimmer what it’s like leading a homosexual life.”

“You lead one, so I guess there must be something good about it,” Walter persisted. “After what’s happened with us, don’t you think it’s about time I found out?”

“Oh, darling, yes. I just want you to take time to think what you’re doing. I’ll want you all to myself. I’ll want you to care about my work, and you haven’t read a word I’ve written. You have a wife and children and a big, established career and all the other things we’ve talked about. Maybe even girls, for all I know. All you will have is me, with a touch of scandal thrown in. Have you ever thought about that? I’m not saying we can’t make it work. You make me feel that maybe we can. But … Christ, Walter. Are you sure we’re not crazy? How long has it been? Five hours? Already I want to live with you and love you and make you happy. I’ll feel the same way tomorrow. It doesn’t matter about tonight.”

“You’re wonderful, Tommy.” Walter’s smile was gentle and only faintly impish. “You’ve said all the right things, except that I don’t want to let anything come between us for the time being. I don’t trust myself. I’ll just disappear. When we’ve had time to settle down, I’ll start picking up the pieces from out there. I presume you have someplace I can live.”

“I won’t let you starve on the streets.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that. As long as I hang on to you, I don’t think Clara can spook me. I have about $10,000 in my own account. The shows will be adding to that every week. Everything else is tied up one way or another, and it’ll be some time before I can straighten it all out, but I don’t think I’ll be a burden for you.”

“You definitely know what you’re doing about tonight?”

“Yes. I have to go to California in a few minutes.”

Tom threw his head back with a quick intake of breath and sat on the arm of a chair with his eyes closed. Was there anything else he should say?

Walter marveled at the ambiguous grace of his body as he perched on the chair, one arm extended to prop himself on its back, the long legs bent at the knee, one foot touching the floor for balance. He was almost girlish. He was very much a man. Walter could see his heart beating rapidly under the tight jersey.

Tom opened his eyes and gathered himself together and stood. They met and opened their arms to each other and held each other close and exchanged a kiss. For the first time in his life, Tom felt in charge of a love affair and responsible for making it work for both of them.

“The only major problem I can see,” Walter said, “is managing to stay out of bed with you. I keep wanting to take your clothes off.”

“Good. You’ll turn me into a sex fiend. I think that’s what I’ve always wanted to be.” He thrust his hips up against Walter’s. “I swear to God, I could wait for you for weeks if necessary.”

“I couldn’t Stop worrying about tonight, baby. Believe me, it’s unimportant. I’ll tell you what’s going to happen. David will guess immediately. He’ll call here and find out I’ve left with you. He’ll make up some story for Clara and convince her that she has to announce that I’m sick all of a sudden. One of them will read my speech for me. Clara will thrive on covering for me–again–and David will be laughing his head off. He’s been waiting for this to happen since I was 18. A jolly good time will be had by all–especially us.”

“Isn’t
Time
about to do a cover on you?”

“In a couple of days.”

“Then the press is apt to be a nuisance. You’d better really disappear. Let’s be brothers. Tom and Walter Jennings. It’ll be better when we ask for double beds anyway. OK?”

“Perfect. It sounds like being married. I’m a bigamist.”

Deep ringing laughter burst from Tom. “God, what a day. And the night is still to come. I love you, Uncle Walt.”

“I love you, Tommy.”

Their mouths met in another long, lingering, kiss, quickly becoming passionate so that they were both breathing rapidly when they drew apart.

“You’re right,” Tom said with slight unsteadiness in his voice. “It’s going to be no mean feat to stay out of bed. I’m gay, baby. Don’t forget it. Things are going on in me that you probably know nothing about. Those fringes. I’m going to make you gay too.” He broke away and went to the telephone and called down to ask for help with his bags.

They got out into the worst of the evening traffic. As they began to inch their way across town, Walter was immediately assailed by second thoughts. He was behaving like a naughty kid. Tom had said himself that a day or two didn’t matter. He held himself in his seat and longed to jump out and run home. A glance from Tom riveted him to his side and sent him soaring on clouds of joy. He was with a man he could love. Faced with something so momentous, he couldn’t behave as if it were a day like any other. He had to celebrate it with some definitive act. He was discarding the past and making a commitment to the future. But couldn’t he have done it just as effectively tomorrow? He dropped from the clouds and touched the handle of the door. Still only a few minutes’ walk from home. He couldn’t expect anybody to make him indifferent to the consequences of what he was doing.

The highs and lows followed each other in rapid succession. His sense of time deserted him. He kept trying to catch a glimpse of the watch on Tom’s lean wrist. He longed for it to be too late so that there would be nothing more to think about. By the time the Holland Tunnel disgorged them onto the Jersey shore, he knew it
was
too late. Only a wild dash back could have got him, dressed as he was, to the beginning of the ceremony. He began to relax and open himself to the powerful appeal of the presence beside him. The wanted each other; he could feel it almost palpably even though they weren’t touching and were further separated by Tom’s preoccupation with driving. He had craved the big experience of love all these years; this must be it. It had to work, or there would be nothing more to hope for. He had discovered a fine edge of desperation in Tom that added to the excitement of it. They couldn’t have got through the evening without each other.

They remained silent while Tom maneuvered the car expertly thought traffic. As night fell, another glance at the watch told Walter that the ceremony had begun. He had done it. He had run away from Clara. He might go crawling back to her in a week, but meanwhile he would have risked everything for a purely personal satisfaction. Weight after weight dropped from him. He was free to submit himself to a whole new unfamiliar set of demands and obligations. Even at his advanced age, life could be an adventure.

After stopping for something to eat, they drove across part of Pennsylvania in the dark. Then they began to talk, without pause, insatiable for each other’s pasts, both of them keenly aware of the pleasure they were finding in each other’s company. Tom was a native Californian; his parents and an older brother and sister were scattered about the state. His father had been a successful accountant and was now retired near Monterey. Tom had been brought up in affluence. His was a straightforward California story, except for the anomaly of his talent and his sexual makeup. They talked about sex. Tom had been committed to men as early as Harry but had been less active about it. There had been Mark, and after Mark there had been no thought in his mind that his tastes might change as he grew to manhood.

“What’s it like to be gay?” Walter asked. “If that’s what I’m going to be, I should be prepared.”

“It’s excellent training for secret agents. You know, working up a cover and sticking to it so you’re never caught being who you really are. I don’t know. Plenty of guys don’t bother with a cover and take on a lot of silly mannerisms. I’ve never seen why I should go around saying ‘Get you, Mary’ just because I like to suck cock. With us, well, we’ll see. You’re famous, and I’m getting near the top of my field. We’re going to attract attention. It scares me because you may not be able to take it, but I’m sure I’m going to have to blow my cover with you. Naturally, my attitude’s been affected by living with John.”

“John’s the one who died?”

“He was killed in a car crash last year. I was 22 when we met. He was 30. He was a wonderful guy–handsome, bright, funny. He was also a very successful businessman. He lived in two entirely separate airtight compartments. I was in one of them, the rest of his life in the other. We lived in the same house, but when he entertained, I split. He went on living exactly the same as before. We were in love with each other–it was wonderful when he joined me in my compartment–and he made a very convincing case for why that was the way it should be. I accepted it because I adored him. I wouldn’t accept it again. I’d rather be alone than try to live such a big lie. I’ve tried to warn you all day, but it’s no use. You have to find out for yourself. When his family turned up to … to do the things you have to do when somebody’s dead, they were amazed that I knew so much about him. They were even more amazed when they read his will. I wanted to drop dead–for his sake. And it hurt. God, it hurt. Fifteen years, and I couldn’t break down and decently mourn the guy they loved too; not the way I did, but what did that make me? A dirty little cocksucker. I couldn’t let them guess that he was a cocksucker too. The sex part of being gay is a mystery to me. Why do I want to suck a cock and not put my nose between a girl’s legs? I haven’t the faintest idea. You’ll have to forgive me for being crude, darling. It’s good for my soul. I’m a cocksucker, but that’s pleasure, not love. I’ve never been convinced it’s the surest way to a man’s heart. I’m not even sure two men can express their love with their bodies. Maybe I’ll find out with you. I can understand it must be different with a man and a woman who love each other and have all the procreative pizzazz to work with. The physical part must seem almost divine at times. Does it?”