Cast Stones, and Other Ni-Chome Tales - 6. VI. Like Scales from the Eyes

VI. Like Scales from the Eyes

There cannot be found in the animal kingdom

a bat, or any other creature, so blind

in its own range of circumstance and connection,

as the greater majority of human beings

are in the bosoms of their families.

Helen Hunt Jackson

Così conoscere

As a result of which

mi fè la sorte,

I learned about my fate –

ch'onte, pericoli,

that disgrace, and danger,

vergogna, e morte

embarrassment, and death –

col cuoio d'asino

from the hide of an ass

fuggir si può

will always run full flight.

Lorenzo Da Ponte

Lionel splashed cold water into his eyes. He forced them to stay open, and as the tap gurgled over his fingers, he felt the biting sting of the potable water with some relief. He felt like he was waking up, though his nightmare was far from over. One last splash to soak his face up to the hairline and he shut the faucet off.

He had left Paul in the kitchen. He hated 'dramatic' scenes, and yet he had just provoked one; pinning his partner between the refrigerator and the wall and forcing the words of how much he loved him onto the doubtful Paul. And yet, why shouldn't the young man at the end of his restraining push doubt the veracity of Lionel's faith in him? It was Lionel's fault – this whole mess – and he knew it. However, when Lionel kissed him, he became so moved with his own desire that Paul tell him everything would be all right, if not with words, then at least with the return of his kiss, that when it did not happen; when he didn't feel a reaching back to him, he felt utterly desolate. Lionel had to flee to this bathroom before he could allow his guests to see him.

He confronted himself in the mirror. The water ran unchecked down his forehead, into his unflinching eyes, and down farther along cheeks, chin and neck.

'What am I doing?' he wondered. Earlier, before any of the evening's stress truly began, he compared this company party at his place, and the first night of his mother's two-week stay as two circles of hell. Then, he was joking; now he was not so sure.

Paul was suffering, and that made Lionel miserable. 'Just one night in the closet…' he told himself, but he saw that was not true. One was either out, or living some form of deceit, and like a snowflake that tumbles down a hill, deception soon gathers up more and more until it turns into an avalanche.

On top of that, his mother was not the woman he remembered. Older, yes, which was expected, but she was somehow hidden too. Where was that overbearing personality that he had spent the early years of his adult life telling himself he was not like? The person who stepped foot over his threshold this evening was patient and sweet – not his mom. 'Well,' he considered 'that will have to wait. As Lincoln said, "one war at a time." First I'll have to get through this party with my marriage intact.' And that seemed battle enough.

Lionel took a guest towel and rubbed his face. He kept rubbing, the friction became a burning, and still he rubbed – this felt like life; a physical element added to the pain no one, not even he, could see.

As he coolly refolded the towel in the correct and genteel way his mother had shown him many years ago, he said calmly: "And that bitch Linda, I should take her on the roof, and pitch her over. No one would ever blame me."

˚˚˚˚˚

Hiroshi stood alone in the kitchen. His hands were kicked out on the counter. Before him was a selection of liquor, but he only half considered which one best fit his darkening mood. He picked up a Scotch and deftly undid the cap, showing years of effortless practice gained by serving his father and other business bigwigs their mizuwari, or Scotch-on-the-rocks with a shot of water. He listlessly poured himself a double, but before he finished, the door opened.

"The Boss just arrived kid, and an audience is expected."

He eyed her a moment. This was an American he barely knew. Although they worked in the same securities company, Hiroshi felt lucky not to work in Tokyo with this imposing woman. She stood nearly six-foot, and packed a dozen pounds on the young man, most of which he suspected was pure, ornery muscle. Her face was probably rather attractive, but whatever natural charm existed was lost beneath layers of caked-on 'power' makeup. Her head cast suspicious shadows because her premed hair was bobbed and fluffed out in an apparent homage to ancient Egyptian hairdressers.

Unaccountably Linda came in the room and closed the door with deliberate intent behind her. Her head bobbed on the Japanese young man with a lopsided grin.

"Damn," Hiroshi said conversationally "with the sacho here, it's back to our best work behavior."

Linda approached him, making the room feel smaller to him with her every advance. "Speaking of behavior…" the last word slipping out as if on oil "…I saw you speaking with that queer duck. What's his name; who is he anyway?"

"Paul? I don’t really know…" Hiroshi suspected Linda's comments were as damning as a malediction, and as charming as a curse. He played along to see if he could suss out her full intentions. "…he told me he's 'friends' with Lionel, but I suspect they're trying to hide something."

Linda was right next to him, her potato chip breath on his cheek. "Like, they're fruity?"

"No." Hiroshi backed off her with a flush of anger. "And by the way, I'm Gay, so watch your tone – but I suspect…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, that he and our host are mister and mister happy homemaker."

"You got something against us Queers?"

"Nah, Honey. Why would I? After all, it’s man's world, isn’t it? I've got to play along to get along – I know that – but when you guys 'Team Up,' tell me it doesn't make it even harder for an ambitious woman to advance in her career. I mean, your type looks out for each other. So be it. But, it only forces a smart woman to be all the tougher."

Hiroshi bit down his sarcasm. "Isn't there a difference between 'tough,' and 'asshole'?"

"Well," she chortled the fake way shopping 'friends' do, "listen to you! Feisty. I'm surprised you didn't throw in some finger snaps."

Hiroshi stared her down, then made for the door.

Linda grabbed his arm. "Wait – don’t tell me you can dish it out, but not take it? Boy, can I make a pun on that one, but – seriously? If you were a woman in this company, with an attitude like that, you'd still be bussing teacups all day long.

"Do you want to know what it's like to be a 'visible' minority, like a woman, in a man's firm?"

Hiroshi shook his head apathetically.

"You've got to callus your exterior. Any 'soft' display is deadly. It's like being butch for a lot of you guys; you have to do it not to stand out. But with women, the expectation is for sympathy, caring, and all the shit that's supposed to get in the way of 'good business.' You get it?"

"Yeah. So?"

"So, nothing. I'm just trying to reach out. Explain what you probably see everyday but don't acknowledge." Linda's tone suddenly changed, to one leading and suggestive: "You like that Paul person, don’t you?"

Hiroshi blushed.

Linda continued: "Yeah. I thought so. And I was wondering if you'd be up for a little fun and games?" She slunk in next to him again, and lowered her voice: "Maybe we both can get what we want; you a meaningless romp with mister spiky-hair; me a little payback for Lionel. See, he got promoted over me – just an ordinary, everyday thing for a career woman to live with – but maybe he got it just because he's closeted. I think he should be out, like you." She flashed a wicked leer. "And I bet we can work together; you for a conquest, me to get my rival taken down a peg. What'ya say?"

Hiroshi's eyes narrowed in recognition that there was something he could do about Linda. "I don't say no," he said "but tell me why you're so motivated."

"Motivated," she scoffed "Hell, like I said, I'm just a woman in a man's world, and it gets worse for us when your team sides up. I know, I know, you gays are prone to abstract women into bad guys, a threat to queer home and hearth – as if estrogen was caustic to anyone's happiness. Misogyny rules throughout history; women are kept inferior by men's fear of them. Fear of the power to bow down to the creative element that we are, and they know it. If a stereotype 'bad guy' is needed, in a gay mind, it will always be a woman."

Hiroshi half sneered, holding her gaze: "Some argue that women, like men, come in good and bad forms. Those women who have complex feeling regarding men-loving men are mostly the most vocal, but everywhere, mothers, sisters, aunts, and strangers too, see in Gay people what matters, love – because they love too, and it's only natural to want to see it spread, not spit on."

Linda rocked her head. "Feisty. OK, Honey – you go find your 'love' in dark and dank Ni-chome bars, no one's stopping you, but here and now, let's work together. What'd ya say?"

"I'll let you know."

"Fair enough." She roughly squeezed his shoulders. "But, you'll excuse me, for now I've got the boss to suck up to." She went to the door, half opening it. "And you better do the same." She left.

Hiroshi thought: 'Why? I'll see him later at home…' He reached for his glass, and using the sterling tongs picked up a chunk of ice. A moment later he felt soothed just hearing the sound of it pinging the crystal; smiled as it sunk beneath the surface of the amber Scotch.

Swirling it in his hand, he brought it up to his lips, and as it seared the back of his palate, he saw Paul's mystically sad eyes. There was something special about him, and Hiroshi was attracted to the remote possibility that the Korean young man was drawn to him too.

The glass began to sweat in his grip; maybe Linda was right. Paul said he was unattached, so why not see; why not test his interest in Hiroshi?

He set the glass down with a decisive thud. "No." he said. Then the obvious came out as a sigh: "They're together. I don't know why Paul lied about it, but it's clear. He loves Lionel, and Lionel loves him."

His finger dipped into the icy Scotch. The chill became resolute. He would do what he could to turn Linda's scheme onto her own head, and he had more power it do it than she could ever guess.

˚˚˚˚˚

In the guest bedroom, Lionel's mother and her new ally Paul, sat on the bed. They had been discussing in quiet details how to bring Lionel to the state of coming out to Nina. Not because she didn't know, she had for a long time, but because it would be best for Lionel to be free of his 'secret.'

They both turned. A dark shadow hovered in the doorframe. "May I come in?" asked Hiroshi.

Paul stood, waving him forward.

"Look," Hiroshi started "I'm sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean…"

Paul hush-fingered him, edging past the young man to close the door. Paul said: "It's me who needs to apologize. I fibbed about Lionel and me, because Lionel doesn't want to be out in your company."

"I thought as much," Hiroshi glanced at Nina "but why?"

Paul blinked: "He says, he could be fired."

Hiroshi blinked: "Oh. Um, I don’t think he has anything…but, then you two are a couple? Five years!"

Paul grinned with obvious pride: "Yes."

"Good for you." Hiroshi shook his hand, his beaming continence falling on Lionel's mother too.

"I agree." she said.

Hiroshi's mood darkened as he warned: "But look, my coworker is out to get Lionel, and I don’t quite understand why. She said something about being passed over for a promotion, but…"

"Linda?"

"Oh – so you know her?"

"I've had the displeasure."

"But the good news is, she asked me to help, and I told her I'd think about it. What do you say – " again his expression passed between the other two.

"Yes!" Nina said rising "We can get what we want, and the rest can go to hell."

Paul was a bit flummoxed. He swallowed, asking: "Do you have that much faith in your son's ability to be open – faith in his conversion?"

"Paul, dear. Do you know what his name means?"

He shrugged: "Something to do with lion?"

"Yes, that's right. It means 'like a lion' – and I didn't name him that for nothing. You'll see; he'll come roaring back soon enough. Especially if he thinks you're in danger." Nina turned and winked at Hiroshi.

Paul was excited, his sad eyes expectant: "It's like we're in the intrigue of an opera!"

"Not just any opera, dear," Nina advised "but in Figaro – Yes, in the supreme story of love brought to completion."

Nina's mood suddenly changed; it was all too much to bear. "You two go and plot. I need a bit of a rest."

Paul stood shoulder to shoulder with Hiroshi for a moment. His hand went up and confirmed they were just about the same height. He grinned broadly at his mother-in-law. "And I know just where the Fourth Act should take place." He cryptically pointed up.

Nina faltered a moment, her hand going behind her towards the bed. Paul rushed to her side, supporting her arm, and helping her sit.

"Are you all right…mom?"

Nina's hand went up to Paul's cheek. She mouthed: 'Thank you.' But said: "Pee Shaw! Go. I'll join you in the living room in two shakes of a lamb's tail."

The boys left in high spirits, and Nina paused a moment to hear their excited voices trail away from her, down the hall. She looked for and retrieve her bag on the bed. 'A smoke' she thought, but then the idea of soiling Paul's lovely décor stopped her. She glanced up. Lionel was in the doorway. She waved him in, and he sat sullenly next to her.

It was a tremendous strain for her to pretend things were as they had been. "You tired, dear?"

"Yes, mom. So tired."

"I know son, but soon; don’t worry."

He scanned her face. After all the years of separation, Lionel's primary contact with his mother had been on the phone. Now, here this near-legend of a woman was sitting in his home, and he began to wonder who this soft and reassuring woman was. She sounded so different from the one who had raised him. But then he remembered one ordinary phone call a couple of years ago. In it, a sudden yell, a sudden harsh tone from her to her dachshund, and Lionel was six again and being punished. And in that instant, thousands of miles from his adult home in Tokyo, he was back to his sole boyhood room within his mother's spacious Atlanta house, and he was afraid of the woman's ire; afraid down to his very soul.

"Do you have any regrets, mom?"

"Regrets, dear? Yes, and if you do not know it by now, son – we all do."

He held her eyes with something like honesty, and it made Mrs. Cameron swallow in anticipation.

He spoke softly: "Have you ever betrayed the thing you most love?"

"No dear," she tried not to cry "I've never betrayed you. And, if I'm honest, I've always wanted you to feel the same towards me. You've been the best son any mother could want; you've never hurt me, and I know, there is nothing in you that ever will."

Lionel was silent. He simply swallowed and contemplated the rug several feet before him.

"Lionel," she said so tenderly, her voice seemed to seep from nowhere particular but the atmosphere itself "it will be all right. I promise, it will."

She rose, patting down her tweed skirt, and then her hair.

"Maybe you need a moment alone. When you are ready, join us in the living room." She left him and closed the door.

Lionel thought maybe he did hate himself. Maybe Paul had been right to suggest he hated being Gay, but slowly he rejected that notion. Considering Paul, there was nothing he more wanted to be than that man's partner. He admired Paul's bravery, and suddenly Lionel was reliving the disaster of meeting Paul's cold and hostile mother. He knew Nina was not like that, but because of the woman's very warmth, he thought it would be harder to lose her. His view of the trip to Kyushu, though in some ways a nightmare – Paul basically losing his parents because he came out to them – was good in that it propelled their relationship fast-forward. After his mother had hurt Paul, the two stayed in his boyhood room, in semi-darkness, sitting up the whole night, awake and talking. Lionel held the sobbing young man he loved and told him they'd be back to their lives and friends by tomorrow afternoon. "There is time," he said "time for her to come around. I can understand why you think she's given up on you, but don’t you give up on her. By being who we are," he laughed "plain-Jane, stay-at-home ordinary people, she'll see us happy, and that will mean something to her. It's got to." He held Paul, and swayed with him, and kissed away the tears that gathered in the corner of his eyes, and thought that although he hadn't asked for this – would never want Paul hurt in anyway – he was glad. This embrace, the long slow night that kept them quiet and miserable, was the night Lionel made Paul the center of all his thoughts and wants. To work from this moment forward to see him the happy one of his comments minutes ago became his life's ambition. He stroked the spiky hair and thanked God that mercies come to all men; some in the form of tenderness, others in the guise of intolerance.

Sitting on the bed now, he knew he had to snap out of it. Lionel had left 'his' guests too long in the hands of Paul who didn’t deserve to be inflicted like that.

He considered Paul's namesake, and the young man's mother's intent with the choice: a blinding moment of intense love that knocks him off his high horse and leads him to spread the good news; only Lionel was afraid it was he who needed to be knocked off his ass, and simply pointed to do something right for a change.

˚˚˚˚˚

In the center of the living room, Matsui-san stood with a cocktail in his hand, and a fawning staff penning him in on all sides.

"Sacho-san," crooned Linda "I read your inspirational weekly e-mail over and over again – You are so right! – the mouse in the maze can't always expect to get his cheese from the same spot."

The boss hated her; such a suck-up. "Thank you, Linda…" he said "…glad to know somebody reads them." Linda's burst of affected laughter grated up and down his spine.

Hiroshi appeared, and bowed: "Sacho – Good evening. Nice to see you looking so well."

A suspicious and somewhat mysterious shadow cast itself across the boss' countenance: "Matsuda-kun, correct?"

"Yes sir."

"How does Osaka suit your tastes?"

Hiroshi glanced at Linda. "Fine sir. I'm learning a lot."

"Good…good." The boss pretended to be distracted by the arrival of the party's host. "You'll excuse me."

Linda and Hiroshi watched as their boss moved among the crowd. Off to the side they contemplated Paul and Mrs. Cameron shifting glances from them.

"I'll do it," Hiroshi said, low and confidential "and I know where."

From their side of the embroglio, Paul and Nina turned attention to Lionel. Though brooding, both felt the anticipation of something great looming nearer and nearer.

˚˚˚˚˚

Tokyo Tower appeared angular and graceful from the rooftop garden. One of the amenities of living in Paul and Lionel's building was private 24/7 access – only residents and their guests could be up here – and at night, the sweep of the skeletal steel tower was breathtaking.

The garden itself was a slight maze of smaller trees, raised planters of boxwood and any number of seasonal blooms. In the spring air, sweet scents of gardenia, hyacinths and crocus fought for attention over the aerial display of cityscape lights.

However, the garden lighting itself was a bit hit and miss. Some spots were adequate for a nocturnal stroll, others seemed designed with assignation in mind.

Hiroshi waited quietly in one of the darker sections. He saw a large shadow with a Cleopatra-head silhouette coming near. He called out low: "Linda, here."

She joined him.

He asked in a rough whisper: "Did you arrange it?"

"Yes," she slithered out "at midnight, I'll lead a tour of the whole company up here, then tell them it's a surprise party so they crouch down…and…" a malicious twinkle, even in the dark, shone from her snake eyes "…then we will see Lionel and his little bitch in action.'"

"Good." Hiroshi said. Then, his tone aped the seductive one she had tried to use on him in the kitchen. "You know," he came closer to her, licking his lips "maybe my problem is, I haven't met the right woman yet."

Linda let out a lecherous gasp: "Oh?"

"Maybe," he continued "all I need to be 'straightened out' is a good woman – or should I say – a bad woman. Come back here at 11:30, after everything's set, and let's test my theory."

She began to saunter away, but turned as she went: "Test nothing, Honey, it's finial exam time." And she was gone while Hiroshi suppressed a laugh.

He bent down and made a slight whistle. Nina and Paul stood.

"Well," Hiroshi said "the joke will be on her."

"Come on," urged Paul "We've got to get ready."

"Yeah – did you bring the hair gel?"

Paul palmed it in front of Hiroshi, then tugged on his suit jacket. "Wait here – mom." Paul said "You have the best seat in the house."

The two young men ran off towards the moody shadows of the rooftop gazebo.

Nina sat and quietly pondered a touching bit of sharing that Paul had done earlier this evening. In the guest bedroom, alone, before Hiroshi came to them with news about Linda's plotting, she had pressed Paul to once again refer to her with the same word that Lionel did. She reveled that Paul already felt comfortable calling her Nina, but she hinted at their family status.

Paul told her: "Lionel doesn't know how nice a mom he has."

"Why dear, what do you mean?"

"I mean," he explained, the pain clearly written across his face "that my mother rejected me, but still pressures me to dump Lionel and be married via a local Korean matchmaker." He held her hand and toyed with it in dead earnest. "Can you relate to the pain of being told by family that your love doesn't matter; dump it, and do what they want?"

Nina reassured Paul: "My marriage was similar to what you are being pressured into: two 'old' families deciding 'what's best.' And neither of us was happy. But what I know of you Paul, dear, is that you are strong. You are doing the right thing already, and maybe your parents will love Lionel as you do in time."

Paul considered the Fitzgerald story The Sensible Thing, where a young Northerner meets and forms a mutual love with a Southern belle, only for both of them to decide society was against their love and separate. Paul thought for the first time in his life that the story was probably about two young men in the original version, and he knew there was a reason he always regarded Lionel as one of Fitzgerald's eternally youthful lost-boy characters. Paul remembered the closing words of the story, that 'there are all kinds of love in the world,' and the author knew it.

Paul glanced off of Nina's too intense stare. "Well," he eventually stammered "if you want me to, I'll consider you my mom."

"Yes, son. Yes – you are my boy too – we love alike you and I, and that makes us family, forever."

Back in the moment on the rooftop, she glanced up. Lionel was approaching, so she stood. "Son?"

"Mom? Did Paul…" he was going to ask, but stopped – who else would have led her up to the garden. He asked instead: "Do you like it?"

Nina took his hand and led him to the bench. "It's gorgeous son. Did I ever tell you how much I admire your drive; your success?"

Lionel blinked at her. She sat him down.

"You have achieved so much," she continued with the earnestness of her voice strengthening "and all on your own. You deserve to be proud. I am proud of you." She sat next to him.

"Proud?" he mumbled, as if that was the furthest thing from his mind "Maybe yesterday, yes – perhaps tomorrow, I'll feel something like that again – but not now; not today." Lionel bent his head down into his palms. He rubbed his sore sight, and the dull aching film on his eyes seemed more obscuring than ever. Beneath her calm exterior, Lionel sensed the throbbing intensity of the woman that had raised him.

Again he considered the area out in front of him, bending his vision on the pavement a few feet before him. He kept his sight trained on it as if he expected it to change due to the very force of his scrutiny, then he realized what change he sought, and it was not an external one at all.

The way down from his high horse seemed like miles to crash.

"Mom - " he held her gaze with a faltering tremble "Paul and I are together; a couple. I have loved Paul for all the five years I have known him, and I know he loves me too because, he agreed to lie about our love, selflessly, though it was unfair of me to ask him to do it. Mother, I regret forcing him to lie, and I am sorry for not telling you sooner."

Nina's hands came up to his cheeks, and in that touch something happened. Lionel blinked, and although tears clouded his vision, he could see. In his mind he thought out the conclusion to the Road to Damascus story. The man knocked to the ground was carried raving and blind to a stranger's house to wait, and possibly die. But then the spirit of Jesus called on a good man named Ananias to go to Saul-the-non-believer, and lay his hands upon him. He was to allow God's will to work through their contact. Though Ananias was afraid, he did as he was bid, and the things obscuring the non-believer's vision described as being like scales, fell away from Paul-the-Believer's sight, that he might see the old world with the new eyes of conviction, of hope, and of Love. And he did, just as Lionel did now.

Lionel saw but could not quite comprehend the tears in his mother's eyes. Maybe his worst fears of losing her were destined to come true.

But Nina, through her runny nose and streaming make-up, slowly rocked the head of her boy and said: "Hallelujah."

"What?" a truly confused Lionel stammered.

"I said, Hallelujah!, son. Your love for him was strong enough to overcome your last strain of fear, and that deserves praise."

Lionel swallowed, his voice dripping with hopeful disbelief: "So, we're OK?"

"OK? – Lionel, we're more than OK! We're family again. Yes, me and my two boys, and who's luckier that I?"

Lionel choked back an urge to sob; instead he leapt to his feet, picked up his mom and hugged her like he hadn't done since he was a twelve-year-old boy, and felt on top of the world. 'She's right,' he thought 'we're better than OK, we're better than ever.'

The woman pushed back on her son's chest. "Now, go to Paul. This time don’t tell him you love him – show him."

They stood still for a moment, just holding hands.

"I need to excuse myself." Nina said, a hand automatically going up to preen her hair. "I'm sure my makeup is a fright." He lingered his touch on her hand, but he knew she'd be back. He watched her head to the stairs, almost giddy to realize the strength of the two people he had in his corner; how could he not lick the world with their support?

˚˚˚˚˚

It was all too much, Lionel had to sit back on the bench; had to bend a head back into his palms, but this time it was from the weight of jubilance, not of oppression. He did not see a young man with flat hair and a business suit come up and stand next to him.

He looked up, and in the dim light, asked: "Hiroshi? Have you seen Paul? He's supposed to be up here."

"No. I haven't. Are you all right?"

Lionel stood. The young man stepped back a bit.

"I need to talk to him."

"So hey," the young man said enthusiastically "Paul told me you are single. I know this is kind of forward, but how 'bout you and me go out for a drink sometime?"

Lionel felt the heaviness of the night full on his shoulders. The blinking, distant lights on the buildings quickened his heart. He stepped up close to the back of the young man. "Look, Hiroshi, the truth is Paul lied to you. He did so because I asked him to. I'm flattered by your suggestion, but I love Paul more than anything, and I'd never hurt him – No, correction – I vow to never hurt him again."

The young man snorted up something like a choke. "How?"

"How? Monday morning I'm taking a picture of Paul and me and putting it on my desk. I'm wearing my ring; and if they hate me, if they fire me, then I'll go where I'm wanted."

Both men heard a sound, a low murmuring of voices, and turned to see Nina – arm-in-arm with Matsuda-san, the boss – heading towards where they stood. There was a glow on Mrs. Cameron's face that not even darkness could obscure. After them, the rest of the party trailed in eerie silence.

"Mom?"

"Hush, son." She held out her hand. "Quiet now, come with me. There is something we must all see."

She took his hand and the entire party began to crouch down and move towards the dimly lit area where a shadowy structure stood.

Near the gazebo, a young man with spiky hair and wearing a white silk shirt and red vest glanced at his watch – 11:30. He shot off his vision to the side and saw a Cleopatra silhouette moseying his way.

"Oh. It's you." Linda chirped with clipped annoyance. She glanced around, peering through the dark shadows. "Have you seen Hiroshi? He's supposed to be up here."

"I haven't seen him." the young man said, crouching movement catching his eye.

Linda's pupils became fixed on the young man before her. "Why don't you just come out with it. I know you and Lionel are 'boyfriends.'" She spat out the last word with disdain. "Fess up; let your lover be a man, and get his due."

"It's not up to me. And, it's quite frankly none of your business."

"Hump!" she farted through her nostrils "Getting ahead by pretending to be something he's not, that is my business. But – " a new cunning shone in her voice "I'm open to keeping quiet, for shall we say, the right price."

"What are you suggesting?"

"Just your regular, tit-for-tat, silence equals cash arrangement. You talk to your 'partner,' and find out what it's worth to him – ten grand a month; fifteen?"

She came up to him with false soothing dripping from her forked tongue "There, there, pumpkin. That's a good little faggot-bitch. You bend for him; and he bends for me."

"That's enough!" Lionel boomed.

Linda turned agape to see the whole assembly watching her. Front and center was the sacho arm-in-arm with Nina. "I…I…" she stuttered, but in two steps Lionel was there taking the spiky-haired young man away from her vitriol.

Once away from her, at his mother's side, he vented back to Linda: "You mean-hearted bitch. Who the hell do you think you are?" Lionel softened as he spoke to the young man in his grip: "Paul, I love you! – and not only don't I care who knows, I…" his arm surveyed the rooftop crowd "…I want them to know you mean more to me than a job, a place to live, or any of it. Can you forgive me?" Lionel drew the young man's face up.

"I'm sure he already has, Mr. Cameron." said Hiroshi.

Lionel let him go, swallowed and then thought there was some mistake. He turned, and the young man with the flat hair and a business suit practically ran and jumped into his open arms. Lionel lifted Paul up while still in his embrace, and kissed him the way a dehydrated person downs the first cool glass of water after the desert. Paul, his eyes awash, supplied the much-needed liquid, and he reciprocated every last drop of Lionel's feelings with his own kisses.

"But…" spat Linda at Hiroshi "…you're queer too…"

"No more of that." spoke the boss with powerful authority. The gentleman unhitched Nina's arm from his and gently placed it by her side, then he confidently strode up to Hiroshi. Of Linda, he demanded: "Just what do you have against Gays? Hum? Were you hurt as a child by a closeted father, or something? You are sick. You need treatment, and I suggest you take all the time you need to get well."

"I…I…"

"I don't care. Excuses or not, I do not care." the boss said.

Lionel urgently stepped in front of his boss, half pleading. "Sir, I don’t know how you feel about Gay people, but…"

Matsuda-san put up his hand. "Why would you assume I have a problem with whom you love? Do your job; don’t interfere with others, that's all I care about. What else matters?"

"Nothing, sir." Lionel almost couldn't contain a fit of laughter, laughter from sheer joy.

"And besides," continued the boss "didn't you know my son is Gay? I certainly have no problem with him – in fact – I have every reason to be proud of him."

"Who’s your son?" Linda demanded.

The sacho put his hand on Hiroshi, and hugged him by the shoulders. "Are you all right, boy?"

"Yes dad. Thank you."

"Good." The boss explained to the puzzled faces around him: "He assumed a different name so he could work his way up the company ladder based on merit, not on the way he was born." He turned sad eyes on his boy "I'm sorry I outed you as my son – but, it was for the best."

Hiroshi helplessly smiled, and hugged his dad.

"Figures." Linda scoffed.

"As for you, you…" The boss turned on her, deliberately pausing with a question mark scowl and a pair of finger snaps.

The woman was forced to mumble: "Linda."

"As for you, 'Linda,' do not bother to come in on Monday. Your personal effects will be forwarded to you. And, we will not be providing severance, or a recommendation - unless you seek counseling. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

The sacho pointed with his whole arm to the exit stairs, and Linda slunk off like a wet rat.

As they watched her go, most of the party wished she'd take the quick way down; one step off the parapet. As the stair door creaked closed on the backside of the angry and bitter woman, Matsuda-san retook Nina's arm with an affectionate smile, then turned that warmth on his hosts, Lionel and Paul. "I don’t know about the rest you, but I think we should go and celebrate! Who's with me?"

The crowd enlivened.

"We have a lot to cheer this evening," the boss sang out "and I think it's high time we get this party started!"

~