An Idol for Others (49 page)

“Have you got a hard-on?”

“Sure. More or less as usual.”

“Me too. You’re usually way ahead of me, so I suppose you know I’m dying to get into some heavy sex with you. That’s the main reason I’m in such a hurry to get home. I want to be completely alone with you and in our own surroundings and with plenty of food in the house so it can go on for days if we want. That’s the most truthful speech about sex I’ve ever made in my life. Do you mind very much waiting?”

“I’m not waiting, in the sense of not being satisfied with what we’ve had. I love light sex with you, if that’s what it is. I love the buildup, getting to know how your body feels. Every inch of us must’ve touched each other by now and told us how right we are together. There’s a place behind your knees I’m particularly mad about I haven’t waited to find that.”

Deep laughter rolled from Tom. “You’re such an idiot. If you make sex funny just when I’m getting turned on by the whole idea, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Sex was never spoiled by a good laugh. Anyway, I know where you’re ticklish, so you haven’t a prayer.”

At the first place they stopped in Nevada, they found a row of slot machines, and Tom lost a handful of quarters before he could be led back to the car. “I might as well confess before you find out,” he said when they were driving again. “I have a secret vice. I like to gamble. Shall we knock off early this evening? We haven’t much farther to go now. We can make it by tomorrow night or the next morning. How about it? There’s a town coming up that has a couple of gambling joints. Shall we stop?”

“I hoped I was your only secret vice, but if you have others, I suppose they too must be indulged. Sure, baby.”

They found a motel near the town and then drove back to the garishly lit main thoroughfare. They had dinner, and Tom gave Walter $50. “If you’re not a gambler,” Tom said, “just remember one thing–the idea is to win.”

“I play a dignified game of roulette. I’ve never won or lost anything in my life.”

“I’ve found you, so I shouldn’t expect to be lucky at cards too, but I’m the blackjack king. Let’s give it a try.”

They walked a little way down the street, and Tom led them into a large, not very crowded room with a haphazard attempt at Wild West decor filled with noise and tables. Tom made his way directly to a blackjack game and put some bills in front of him and signaled the dealer for a card. He had become noticeably keyed-up and intent.

Walter smiled at the signs of an addict and left him to wander around the room. There was a bar at one side, and he had a couple of drinks. He found a roulette table and lost $10 and won them back again. He knew that if he continued to play he would end up with exactly what he had started with, so he wandered back to Tommy and saw that he had an impressive pile of bills in front of him.

He knew that gamblers didn’t like to be distracted and had all sorts of superstitions about their luck so he tried to stay out of sight, but Tom felt his presence and turned and winked at him. He looked adorably pleased with himself. Walter gave him an encouraging nod and returned to the bar. A few more drinks and the realization that the end of their trip was in sight relaxed him, and he was suddenly aware that, in spite of his blithe remark about going for days without sleep, he was very tired–abnormally tired–more tired than he could remember ever being.
That’ll teach you to run off with a younger man
, he taunted himself. He waited long enough to have another drink that he didn’t particularly want and then went back to Tom, who was intent on his cards.

“Will you be ready to go soon?” he asked in a quiet, unaccented voice so as not to intrude on his concentration. “I’ve about had it.”

Tom fumbled in the pocket of his denim jacket and held out the car keys at the end of long fingers without looking at Walter. “You go ahead. I’ll get a taxi back.” He hoped Walter wouldn’t notice that his hand was trembling slightly.

“I can wait a little while,” Walter said without taking the keys. “I’m not sure I can find the motel.”

“It’s right out at the end of the main street and then to the right. You can’t miss it.”

The keys changed hands. Tom felt a scream of pain building in him, about to be torn from him. He clenched his jaws and held it in. He mustn’t let it all start again. He had to learn not to jump at Walter’s bidding. He mustn’t swamp him with slavish devotion. Walter wanted to go. He felt like staying. There was no reason why they shouldn’t both do as they wished. He had spent a year reassembling the elements of his individuality. If he allowed himself to become a cipher again, he would be no use to either of them. They had to retain some degree of independence so that all they had to offer each other could flourish freely and acquire independent strength. He settled down resolutely to study the cards.

Walter drove back to the motel feeling bereft and offended. He knew he was being unreasonable. Gambling wasn’t something two people shared. He and Tom had been together continuously in a way he had never been with anybody else before. It was natural for Tom to want to indulge his vice on his own for an hour. Walter was too tired to be reasonable.

The starkly lit modern and characterless motel room didn’t improve his mood. He thought of his splendid house, of his staff waiting to do his bidding, of his decorative family completing the picture of worldly felicity, and he wondered what he was doing in this bleak outpost of American civilization–alone. Had he taken leave of his senses? He dragged himself to bed before attempting to examine the question. His body luxuriated in the instant easing of fatigue, and his spirits lifted. Tommy would come in soon and get undressed and lie down beside him. What could a fine house offer compared to that? They had been together long enough for there to be no doubts. They were perfect for each other. He could truly believe now in their going on through life together. It was all that he had hoped it might be. He didn’t care if he never worked again; making Tommy happy would be enough. If it made Tommy happy for him to work, he would do the best damn work of his life. He thought of the unclouded hours they had spent together across the vast breadth of the nation, of Tom’s lean, graceful body against him, of the loving light in his eyes. He was smiling to himself when Tom came bursting into the room. He looked shamefaced and defensive. Walter sat up in bed.

“Well, it’s old Gaylord himself, the scourge of the Mississippi river-boats. Did you win?”

Tom looked at him defiantly. “Are you all right?” he demanded as if it were an accusation.

“Of course. All of a sudden I felt absolutely dead. I had to lie down. I’m fine now. Come on. Show me your loot. Did you break the bank?”

Tom appeared briefly bewildered and then sat on a chair in front of the empty television screen. He had stayed away only long enough to convince himself that he could do it. After 15 minutes, he had been so assailed by worries that he couldn’t concentrate on the game. Would he find a taxi easily? Had Walter got lost? Would he be angry? To find him cheerfully naked in bed was rather an anticlimax. “I was way ahead for a while. Your leaving threw me off. I ended up about $40 to the good.”

“That’s not bad. I’m sorry about leaving.”

“Why should you be?” Tom said. “We can’t expect to do everything hand in hand.”

Tom’s manner was defensive. His loose-limbed body was tied up in knots. Walter wasn’t sure he understood what it was all about. “Of course not, darling, except that I sort of like to whenever possible. I wouldn’t have left if I hadn’t been feeling so rotten. Come to bed, sweetheart.”

“Sure, in a minute. First, you might as well say it.”

Walter had never seen him like this. He had taken on a wild, fanatical look, his face drawn, his eyes tormented. Walter wanted to hold him and comfort him, but he also wanted to let him get it out, whatever it was. “Say what?” he asked mildly.

“Tell me what a shit. I was not to leave with you.”

“Oh, Tommy. Don’t be absurd.” He tried not to find this tiresome. “You had every right to stay. I admit. I was cross for a minute, but that’s because I’m spoiled and I was tired. If I want to be with you every minute–and do–I should’ve stayed too.”

Tom studied him with anguished eyes. “I don’t understand you. Don’t you want to pull the strings?”

“No, I’ve pulled enough strings all my life. If anything, I want you to. I don’t see why we can’t pull them together.”

Tom slumped in the chair and dropped his head back and looked at the ceiling. “I fall in love so badly. It’s got to be all or nothing. I almost died when you left. I’m so afraid of turning all gooey and faggoty and boring the hell out of you.”

“Whatever you do, you’ll never bore me. As it turned out, it was good for me to be alone for a while. It gave me a chance to think of all I’ve left behind and realize more than ever how glad I am.”

Tom’s expression cleared. He lowered his head and looked at Walter with the light of love once more in his eyes, reverting to the country boy, with no trace of the complexities and tensions that were in him. “It’s hard for me to believe that I can let it all out, that you don’t mind my loving you to distraction and wanting all of you.”

“You’ll find out.”

He stood and shed his clothes and disappeared briefly into the bathroom. When he dropped into bed, Walter grunted, as if he’d been hit in the stomach, with the impact of his nakedness against him. They gathered each other into their arms and opened their mouths to each other and drew apart and looked at each other with wonder.

“Do you feel it too?” Tom murmured. “When we’re like this, everything I want in life is here. Have you ever felt like this with anybody?”

“No.”

“We create a whole universe with each other. It means that nothing that’s happened in the past is any help. I’ve got to learn everything all over again. Oh, God, Walter. Dear Lord Jesus. How can bodies get so close to the sublime?” His grip suddenly tightened. “Oh, God, darling. Oh, please. Christ. I’m going to …” His mouth stretched open, and he uttered a strangled cry as his body was lifted and tossed about by an intense orgasm.

They drove hard the next day and crossed into California at nightfall. By early afternoon the following day, the Golden Gate Bridge was behind them, and they were driving through Sausalito and around the bay. Everything had been much built up since Walter had been there, and he had trouble placing himself. They passed through some nondescript country and more development and suddenly entered a lush garden area of great trees and flowing shrubbery. Handsome houses could be perceived behind tropical foliage. Walter caught glimpses of water.

“We’ve been here before,” he exclaimed.

“Have we?”

“Sorry. I meant Clara and me. There was a party at a big house on a hill overlooking the city. We drove along this road. I guess I wasn’t paying attention to where I was. This is Belvedere? What is it?”

“It’s a posh real estate development. I think it’s rather beautiful.”

“It is. It’s like a botanical garden with houses. My goodness, Tommy. Fancy you bringing me here. Aren’t we grand?”

Tom laughed. “I told you Belvedere.”

“I know. I didn’t make the connection. I don’t mean I thought you lived in a hovel, but I wasn’t expecting anything like this.”

“Stick with me, man.”

“I will, man.”

They drove for another few minutes, and then Tom slowed and made a sharp right turn into a drive that descended steeply through several lavishly planted terraces to a long, low house nearly concealed by spectacular greenery. The bay stretched out just below it. They came to a sliding stop in a crunch of gravel.

“Here we are,” Tom said.

“It looks as if we’d need machetes to hack our way in. Sleeping Beauty.”

“I want to tell you about it before we start hacking. It’s up for sale. Whether we leave it on the market depends entirely on you, so you don’t have to say you like it if you don’t Johnnie and I lived here, but I never felt it was mine. It’s full of ghosts, but not in the way you might suppose. They’re all my ghosts, my happiness, my stupidity, my despair. Now that you’re here, they’ll all fly screaming into the night, so that’s all right. Johnnie wasn’t the sort to leave ghosts. He just picked up and left. It was his house. Now it’s mine, as if I’d bought it. It will be ours if we want it, or we can find some place you like better.”

“Well, let’s go see.”

“My heart is doing some peculiar cartwheels. Come on.”

They stopped in front of a hermetic-looking door while Tom coped with several locks and keys. When the door finally opened, the effect was a shock. They stepped into light and air, enclosed by glass. Outside the glass was a flowering terrace with garden furniture, and beyond, the seascape of the bay. Tom crossed a big room and pushed back sliding doors, and the house was filled with the warm afternoon sun. He returned to the paved entrance and collected a pile of mail from a table while Walter looked around him.

He could see that it wasn’t a big house, but the space and proportions were admirable. The layout was open planning of the sort he didn’t much like–the kitchen was too visible and the “dining area” lacked the intimacy he felt a dining room should have–but his mind was immediately active with plans for screening and masking to achieve better separations. The furniture was modern and, to Walter’s mind, rather dull, but there was a big stone fireplace at one end that could stand being featured. He could see that the carpeting and fittings were of the best quality, with the overall effect being solidly luxurious. Within moments he had rearranged and replaced some of the furniture in his mind’s eye and created a handsome set. The Oriental touches would have to go.

Walter turned and found Tom looking at him expectantly. He went to him, and they held each other lightly and kissed. “It’ll be easy to make it look like us,” he said.

“That’s nice. It doesn’t matter if you change your mind, but I’m glad you like it. Come outside.”

The wide terrace was paved, and wooden steps led down from it to the water’s edge and a short jetty. A small sailing boat was moored at the end of it.

“Is that yours?” Walter asked.