Hadrian's Lover (32 page)

“I’m like you,” Will replies. Dean snorts. “A lot like you,” Will insists.

Speaking to his slate, Dean says, “You’re the school jock. Everyone looks up to you—”

“And,” Will adds pointedly, “expects a lot from me, too. And,” he adds grimly, “from you, too, being who you are, who your father is.
Who
,” he adds with extra emphasis, “your grandmother is—one of our founding mothers. Everybody watches you.”

Dean sinks deeper into his seat, trying to hide his face in his book. “Leave me alone, I’m studying.”

Pausing to let the gravity of his words sink in, Will says, “People expect a lot from guys like you and me.”

Begrudgingly, Dean asks, “Like what?”

Will’s answer is matter-of-fact, “Like dating.”

“I’m not dating you!”

Ignoring Dean’s adamant rejection, Will continues, “You see, like you, I don’t date, and like with you, people want to know why. Like you, some even question if I’m…” in a low whisper, “a
strai
.”

Flustered, Dean opens both hands, dropping sandwich crumbs and slate onto the table.

“That’s right, Dean.” Will stares intently into his soon to be new boyfriend’s eyes. “People think you and I just might be…” Now just mouthing the word “straight.” After allowing for the reality of their situation to sink in, Will continues, “For the moment, the only thing saving you is your family name, and the only thing saving me are my skills on the b-ball court.” Squinting his eyes, planning now to play hard ball, Will says, “If you ever touch one of those girls you ogle—don’t try to pretend. I’ve seen you.” Shrugging, he admits, “I’ve been watching you watch them. I watch them, too, just not so obviously as you.” Paling slightly with introspection, Will adds, “At least, I hope not.”

Dean is aghast. “How obvious have I been?”

“Very.” Will’s crisp reply is a cutting reminder that even being a Stuttgart might not be enough to save him if he should ever falter. Finally, having consistent eye contact, Will persists, “The fact is, Dean, you need me, and…” almost a little begrudgingly, “I need you.” Holding Dean’s crystal blue eyes with his own stone gray orbs, he says, “Here is what I propose.” Standing now, Will crosses to Dean’s side of the table. “Shove over,” he commands. Will has frightened Dean into submission. Thigh snug to thigh, Will begins slowly, very gently to rub Dean’s arm with his fingers. So light is his touch that he only manages to caress his arm hair. “We date. You and I become a unit—a tight unit—the serious high school couple. The ones everyone expects to register.” Dean swallows hard. “If we can become inseparable, then we can escape the mistrusting, questioning stares, the behind the back whispers we both hear so often, and most importantly,” he adds, “we can escape something we both desperately want to escape.”

“What?” Dean mutters.

“Actually having to date.” Pausing briefly, Will stops his fingers from fluttering. “So,” he says coyly, now having his fingers walk up Dean’s arm,
over his shoulder, and under his chin where he feigns tickling him, “laugh for me.” Dean chokes a giggle. Will grimaces and shakes his head slightly. “We’ll have to work on your playacting.” Will’s playacting is obviously exemplary. Using his finger now to turn Dean’s face in his direction, Will asks again, “So? Are you in?”

Dean ponders the implications. Thinking back, he has never seen Will with a guy. Never heard of any boy dating him, just a lot of wishes and wants and desires expressed by every other boy in school but him. Even though Will is playing up the player right now, Dean does not mind. There are definite advantages to dating someone who doesn’t want to date. “No kissing or any—other stuff?” Dean asks, feeling awkward.

“Definitely no other stuff. As for kissing,” Will pauses, “I don’t think we can avoid that, but it really only has to be a modest peck between classes.”

Dean’s mind is highly active at this moment. “Can I—may I introduce you to my dad?”

Will smiles that his plan is actually working. Approaching Dean Stuttgart was a gamble, a huge, extremely dangerous risk, but one he had been right about. Watching Dean ogle Rylie Wineman had made Will decide to act because it looked as if the girl were ready to expose Dean. “I’d be honored to meet the direct descendant of our founding mother.”

Dean laughed—not a forced, choked giggle this time, but an honest laugh that piqued the interest of those around them. As Will had known all along, they were under the discreet but vigilant observation of their peers. “Mimi’s nice. I’ll introduce you to her, too.”

“Mimi? I thought her name was Destiny.”

“It is,” Dean blushes slightly. “Mimi’s a pet name for grandmother.”

“Cool,” Will replies, considering his next move. “Let’s seal it with a kiss—just a peck.” After a quick meeting of lips, the two boys separate. Will, once he is halfway through the cafeteria, spins back gaily to call out, “See you tonight, then!” Dean blushes for the crowd and nods his head. They hadn’t actually made a date, but it was good for the rest of the students to think they had.

“Wow!” Todd’s eyes sparkle. “That was quite a story Papa Dean.” He had listened so intently to Papa Dean’s voice that Todd had almost felt as if he
had been there with his father and Dean over twenty-five years ago. Turning his eyes back to Papa Dean, he asks, “Did he—did my father ever get caught? Did he go to reeducation camp, too?”

“No.”

“And he married?”

“Yes, your Papa Mike.”

“Did he love him?”

“Your Papa Mike loved your father. That I know for sure. But whether your father loved Mike—I think so—but honestly, Todd, I don’t know.” Dean recalls, “Mike was a cheerleader. He doted on your father. He would do anything for him, and sometimes, your father took advantage of that. I guess that’s why he chose to marry Mike. There’s safety in marriage.” Trying to reassure Todd, he adds, “I’m sure he liked him, appreciated his devotion. Your Papa Mike was thoroughly committed to Will.”

“But why would Dad marry if he didn’t love the man? Or want sex with him. I mean, marriage means sex.”

“Marriage isn’t all about sex, Todd.”

“I know that, but it is expected, isn’t it? That’s why you eventually gave in, right? Right?”

“Yes, Todd, you’re right.”

“Then why would he?”

“Because I warned him—about reeducation.” Closing his eyes, Dean remembers the day Will Middleton came to visit him at camp. “You can have visitations after you’ve come out as gay. When your dad came to see me, I told him how happy I was to find my true self. I even tried to act festive. But it was evident by his eyes that he didn’t believe me,” Dean harrumphs. “And I didn’t blame him because at that point it was all a lie. Anyway, visitors had to sit behind chicken wire stretched up from the countertop to the ceiling. But there were a few inches available for our hands to reach underneath so when I put my hand through, he held onto it. That’s when I slipped him the note—a little old school perhaps, but a note is silent and can easily disappear. Anything put on the wave is easily reconstructed.”

“What did the note say?” Todd asks in earnest.

“‘Never get caught. Find a man you like. Marry him. Trust me. It’s better.’ He picked Mike Fulton. Your Papa Mike loved your father to distraction.

I don’t think he could have picked a better man.”

“Except he changed,” Todd begins.

“Yes, after your father died,” Dean agrees. “It was as if something inside Mike died when your father passed.”

“He was never the same.”

“No, you’re right,” Dean agrees. “He wasn’t.”

“Papa Dean?”

“Yes, Todd.”

“Please ask Frank to visit me. He hasn’t been back since…”
Since I asked him.

Dean smiles, hopeful. “Sure, I will—of course, I will. And he can help you, Todd—I know he can. Like his father helped me.”

No, he can’t Papa Dean.
Todd closes his eyes so Dean can’t read his expression.
Not the way you want him to. Frank’s not like his father. But he will help,
Todd determines,
with what I’ve asked of him. He owes me that much.
“Papa Dean?”

“Yes, Todd.”

“I love you.”

Dean, smiling through his tears, bends down to kiss Todd. “I love you too, son.”

The continuing investigation into the alleged abuses reported at the Northeast Reeducation Camp is capturing the attention of Hadrian. Parents fear for the health and sanity of their children should they be found acting on their heterosexual tendencies. One mother noted that every one of our children has the potential to experience heterosexual desires. “Sexual education is a parental matter, not a state matter,” said one father, expressing his dissatisfaction in the current reeducation system. “Children should remain at home with their parents and a government counselor should attend to them on an as needed basis.” This sounds reasonable enough, but when put into the light of economics, only wealthier families could afford such luxuries. We are still left with the necessary means of reeducating the children of our poorer citizens. Such a dichotomic split between the treatment of the wealthy and the poor will only lead to resentment among our citizens. An increase in taxes is not likely to occur, not with another election so close at hand. Hadrian’s citizens and businesses already pay the highest taxes in the world to maintain the one remaining zoo as well as our four (and the earth’s only remaining) national parks.

Heated debate surrounds the issue of corporal punishment. Some parents are demanding that the paddle be banned as a means of punishment while others concur with Gideon Weller that in order to restrain the passions and aggressions of heterosexual men, one needs to do battle with a hard hand. We have all witnessed firsthand the brutal ways of heterosexual men every time our walls are attacked. These men are truly lunatics and very dangerous. All our exposure to heterosexual men shows that they are not capable of reason and act far too quickly on their emotions. The first instinct of the heterosexual male is to fight. According to Gideon Weller, “When one is responsible for restraining angry young men, one has to use
physical force or all of Hadrian will suffer the consequences!” And, as our polls show, many in Hadrian concur.

As for the accusation that Gideon Weller has raped some of the wards at his camp, no evidence has been found, and not a single ward in the past twenty-five years that Gideon Weller has been stationed at the Northeast Camp has come forward with an accusation. It is merely the word of one man who claims to have heard a rape in action. Of that specific incident, Gideon Weller has a witness assuring us that no rape occurred. The young man, the alleged victim in question, remains silent on the issue.

I remain firm in my belief that Gideon Weller is innocent of all charges. His work at the Northeast Reeducation Camp excels all others in the field of reeducation.
Salve!
and HNN stand behind Gideon Weller.

Vale!

In grade ten, Frank and Todd were in all required courses together. Both boys’ favorite class was literature. Much of the material studied was gay literature and the standard interpretation, though often left unexpressed, was that every character read and discussed in class was gay. Todd decided to challenge this rule on the day Mr. Reiner introduced a classic Canadian literature unit with an emphasis on gay literature written when homosexuality was deemed unacceptable.

On that day, unconvinced that either the poet or his characters were gay, Todd raises his hand. After the receptive nod, he asks, “Mr. Reiner, how do you know Earle Birney was gay?”

“Good question, Todd.” Mr. Reiner enjoys students with the courage and intelligence to challenge his suppositions. “I don’t. I didn’t even bother to read the man’s bio. All I’m really interested in is the content of his poetry—actually, with the one poem I’ve chosen for our study,
David
.”

“I don’t see it. How can you base a man’s sexuality on one poem about two friends mountain hiking—especially when there is nothing in the poem to suggest either boy is gay—or the poet for that matter.”

Frank instantly raises his hand. Mr. Reiner smiles. Nodding knowingly Frank’s way, he waves his hand down. “We’ll get to that soon enough, Todd,” Mr. Reiner replies, almost condescendingly. “First, I would like to explain the necessity of studying the works of homosexuals from the past—”

Todd refuses to allow the subject to change. “I read a bio of the poet over the wave last night. It said he married a woman, an Edith or Ester Bull, and that they had a son. I think that means the man was a heterosexual.”

A slight grimace exposes Mr. Reiner’s annoyance. “There were a
number of men, and women,” he adds for the girls, “who married and lived false heterosexual lives. But,” cutting off any further attempt by Todd to recommence his argument, “that is not the topic for today’s discussion.” Todd had intended to mention how Earle Birney also had a relationship with a female graduate student, but Mr. Reiner is successful in assuaging his attempt. Lifting a finger in front of the boy’s face, “Ah, ah, ah,” he pronounces sternly, insisting they revert back to his chosen topic. “Those men and women,” he continues, “who lived in an oppressed era, had to be subtle about offering the world their expression. It behooves us,” Mr. Reiner drones on now, looking directly at his immediate opposition (Todd), “to study the work of those men and women who did not live in a secure and free environment like ourselves. This,” he emphasizes, “is an important part of our heritage as homosexuals. And,” he reminds his class, “part of the rationale behind why our founding families chose to create a country of our own. Todd—” Although Mr. Reiner is not picking on Todd, he tends to direct most of his questions the young man’s way since he is almost always sure to get an intelligent answer from Todd. “Remind the class of the cornerstone I am referring to.”

Hadrian’s society is founded on four cornerstones of existence, and these cornerstones are drilled into all Hadrian’s children from the first days of schooling, so anyone in the room could have answered without thinking. Todd is definitely not thinking at the moment as he answers in far too concise and crisp a manner. He believes he is being picked on for harboring a disparaging interpretation. “Safety for homosexuals.”

“Yes,” Mr. Reiner’s sigh expresses his disappointment. Usually Todd’s answers are more in-depth. “Devon,” another boy Mr. Reiner can always depend on for bright responses, “elaborate, please.”

Devon doesn’t even have to turn on the cognitive components of his brain to reply. He simply recites verbatim the words straight out of Hadrian’s founding constitution: “First and foremost, it has been decided that Hadrian will provide a safe haven for homosexuals, who have, throughout the history of mankind, suffered discrimination and abuse. Never again shall a homosexual walk in fear or feel the need to hide his identity for the appearance of normalcy in society.”

“Very good.” Turning on the student who is his favorite most other days, Mr. Reiner scolds, “Now, that, Todd, was a thorough, in-depth response.” Todd’s nod is acknowledgment enough for Mr. Reiner to move on.

“Now, obviously, Todd read the poem as assigned. Who else in the class read the poem
David
by Earle Birney last night?” Only a few hands rise: Devon, Frank, Millicent, and T’Neal. All other students lower their heads in shame. Mr. Reiner is quite disappointed. Hadrian boasts the brightest minds and the best education system on the planet, yet here, sitting before him, is the deluge of society. His glare is scathing and the class is sufficiently intimidated. Mr. Reiner, notorious for using the voc to contact parents instantly—in class,
and
loud enough for everyone in the room to hear—begins a rapid succession of blinking. Having already set up contact groups with all of his students’ parents, it is just a matter of blinking in the right contacts and uttering the appropriate words. “English ten—class two—delete Middleton, Hunter, Rankin, Brown, and Cantos—” The rapid succession of blinks required of Mr. Reiner to organize this message was only comical to those five students not affected. “Parents,” the teacher begins his tirade against the wayward members of his class, “I regret to inform you that your child has refrained from completing yesterday’s homework. Please note the attached file.” Reiner is also notorious for backup plans designed as extra work for students who fail to complete assigned tasks. “I expect all irresponsible students to complete this task tonight in lieu of yesterday’s assignment. Please ensure your child completes it and either vocs or waves the assignment to me before tomorrow’s lesson.” Numerous groans fill the room. Hadrian takes the education of its children seriously, and everyone who failed to read the poem last night knows his or her parents are answering that voc message right now! And Hadrian only knows what horrendous assignment Mr. Reiner has designed for them.

“Now,” Mr. Reiner continues, “take out your slates and open the Birney poem we downloaded yesterday. T’Neal,” (Mr. Reiner always asks T’Neal to read because the young man has a natural actor’s voice—and T’Neal always agrees—and knowing he will be asked to read, he always practices the night before) “please read the poem aloud for us.”

T’Neal obliges, and when he is done, he offers up the first interpretation. “It’s about mountain climbers, isn’t it, sir?”

Mr. Reiner quickly aborts the instinctual headshake and scorn he feels whenever a student claims an interpretation already presented by another member of the class. “Yes, T’Neal, it is. That is exactly what Todd pointed out earlier.” Hoping for further insight, Mr. Reiner’s eyes scan over the other four students who claimed to have read the poem in advance.

Todd immediately pipes up. He likes the poem and read it over four times last night. “Only the one guy was a real climber. The other kid didn’t really know what he was doing.”

“Good!” Todd is now back in Mr. Reiner’s good graces. “How do you know that, Todd?”

“Well, it says here,” Todd is pointing to the lines on his slate even though the act is not necessary, “that David taught him how to: ‘David showed me/How to use the give of shale for giant incredible/Strides.’” Scrunching his eyes tight, looking deep inside his brain for the answer, Todd adds, “I think that means David taught him how to jump from one rock to another.”

“Not bad, Todd.” Mr. Reiner is smiling so hard his cheeks are causing his eyes to squint.

“And here it says,” Todd adds, encouraged by his instructor’s enthusiasm, “‘David taught me/How time on a knife-edge can pass with the guessing of fragments.’ I think that means David was the expert here and not his friend.”

“Excellent, my boy, but we haven’t heard from any of the girls. Millicent, what other evidence can you find in the poem to support the idea that David was an expert climber?”

“Nothing. The poem doesn’t make any sense at all.” Clearly exasperated, she glares up at Mr. Reiner. “Why does all the stuff we read have to be about boys? Why can’t we ever read anything about lesbians?”

Mr. Reiner groans, as do most of the boys. Mr. Reiner so desperately wants to point out that they just finished reading
Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe
by Fannie Flagg. But he doesn’t. Millicent Brown would just cry about it to her mothers and make his life a living hell. Instead, he searches for the safest means of escape. “I challenge you to find some for us,” Mr. Reiner suggests.

“Sylvia Plath,” Millicent responds instantly.

“Fine,” Mr. Reiner grumbles. He hates Sylvia Plath’s suicidal everybody hates me poetic rants—but all the lesbians love her. “We can download some of her work tomorrow. In the meantime,” his eyebrows rise as he speaks briskly, “attempt to understand Birney’s poem.”

“Yes, sir.” Millicent is slightly mollified since she has been assured some study of her favorite poet. “Can we start with
Admonition
?”

Pushing his glasses up to his forehead, and then rubbing the bridge of his nose, Mr. Reiner sighs. “How about you pick the poems?”

“I will,” Millicent declares victoriously.

“All right then.” Having successfully escaped a scathing remark from the girl’s mothers about favoritism to boys, Mr. Reiner directs the class back to today’s lesson. “Let’s go deeper into the poem, shall we?”

“Oh, oh, oh!” Millicent is practically giggling in delight as she waves her arm about.

“Yes, Millicent.” Mr. Reiner is dearly hoping she will talk about
David
.

No such luck. “Can we also study Anne Sexton? She was Sylvia Plath’s best friend.” She turns and smiles to her best friend, Crystal Albright.

“Were they lovers, too?” Crystal asks Millicent. Before answering, Millicent kisses her girlfriend.

Mr. Reiner puts a stop to this display of affection and any potential response from Millicent. “My classroom is not a bedroom. Please refrain from kissing in here.”

Millicent raises her eyes, “You let the boys kiss.”

“No, I do not.” Mr. Reiner is unimpressed with the accusation. “This is an academic institution, not a social outlet for dating.” To mollify the girl some, knowing full well she is going to go home and complain to her mothers, Mr. Reiner offers her a prize. “Here’s what you do, Millicent. You choose all the poems and poets for tomorrow’s lesson. Voc them to me and I’ll approve them. Sound good?”

Victorious, Millicent shakes her fists in front of her and turns for one more kiss from Crystal. Mr. Reiner chooses to let this little act pass since Millicent’s mothers are very active in the girl’s education. As far as these women are concerned, Millicent is never wrong. Teachers always have to tread lightly with parents of strong influence, regardless of who’s right or wrong.

Frank pulls Mr. Reiner out of potential hot water by raising his hand. “I think what Bobbie did for David at the end was incredibly romantic and beautiful.”

Romance
, Mr. Reiner smiles.
Thank you,
Frank. Girls love romance!
“And what was that, Frank?” Better yet, this is the very direction he wants the class discussion to take.

“To help his lover die when his life was clearly over.”

“What?” Todd can’t believe his ears.

Oh, good!
Mr. Reiner grins.
When these two disagree, the class discussion doesn’t get any better.

Frank’s shoulders shrug involuntarily as his head shakes and his eyes blink in confusion. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“Of course I heard you,” Todd retaliates. “I just think you’re wrong.”

Thank Hadrian for Todd,
Mr. Reiner muses. No one else in class has the gumption to disagree with Frank Hunter. That Mr. Reiner silently agrees with Frank is irrelevant. He simply appreciates Todd’s ability to spark a debate and get Frank Hunter riled up at the same time.

“So you think assisted suicide is wrong?” Frank is fervent in his position.

“In this case,” Todd replies quite matter-of-factly (a tone he knows drives Frank insane), “yes.”

“Why?” Frank is almost angry now.

“Because his life isn’t over.” Then, in deference to Frank’s near outburst, Todd raises his hand to calm down his friend. “Okay, I admit he is probably paralyzed for life, but—”

“Probably?” Frank interjects. “Ah, Mr. Reiner, am I right or am I right? I mean, it says David can’t even move and he only shifts his eyes…”

“He can move his head,” Todd points out.

Frank ignores Todd’s input. “On top of all that,
Todd
, he can’t feel any pain.”

“Where exactly does it say that, Frank?” Mr. Reiner always insists his students provide empirical evidence.

Ignoring his teacher, carrying right on with his harangue, Frank continues, “I mean, he fell a good fifty feet, landed on his back atop a very sharp rock—‘a cruel fang’ he can’t even feel!”

“Good, Frank,” Mr. Reiner stops him. “You provided us one quote from the poem, ‘a cruel fang,’ but that doesn’t prove your supposition that David is paralyzed. Find us the evidence, direct evidence from the poem.”

“Right here,” Frank, too, points to his personal slate, though it does nothing to help the others in the class.

“Which lines?” Mr. Reiner asks since Frank has not provided any direct quotes.

“Um…” Frank really hadn’t pointed to the right lines so he begins his search. Tapping his slate triumphantly when he finds it, he exclaims, “Here! Where David says, ‘I can’t move…If only I felt/Some pain.’ See,” he says, smiling Todd’s way, nodding his head and raising his eyebrows. “He even uses the word ‘pain.’”

“Okay,” Todd acquiesces. “He’s paralyzed for life, but come on; that doesn’t mean his life has to end.”

“It does for David.”

Tilting his head, closing his eyes only to open and roll them Frank’s way, Todd asks, “Why?” Mr. Reiner has to stifle a laugh; Todd is so comical with his expressions.

“Listen,” Franks says. (Mr. Reiner loves it when the students take over and teach each other.) “It’s at the beginning of the poem, ‘mountains for David were made to see over,’ and then at the end, he rejects the idea of having to live helpless and confined to a wheelchair.” Seeing Mr. Reiner’s eyebrow cock, Frank looks at the poem and finds the lines he needs for evidence. “Here, when he says, ‘For what? A wheelchair,/Bob?’”