Becoming Real - 5. V. The Willmore Pizza

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V. The Willmore Pizza

 

The shelves were glass, and on top stood the lords – the masters of the lowly rest. The Scotches and Whiskies offered varying levels of oblivion and price, and held their labels high for view. Above their shoulders, small downlights bathed them incandescently, and they in turn sent that ambered light to the neutral gins and vodkas below. While far on the bottom, that light would finally reach the ever-waiting glasses; ranked in file and categories, their impatience never finding full release before their numbers were replenished.

Nick gazed up from these. From his seat at the bar by himself, the swirl of the club slowed down to a distant buzzing in his ears. The breeze of conversation and of people in movement paled before his vision locked on the colored liquor, and in perfect stillness, he wondered if he was getting old. Scanning the brandies near the top, he mentally counted the colors of the labels; the ‘fruit brandies,’ he thought, ‘for us fruits.’ Tired of that, he returned his attention down to the bar. Without wanting to, the face of his last boyfriend came before his sight. ‘Nine months,’ he recalled, half-tormenting himself. ‘Nine months and the jerk sleeps with some random guy “because he’s bored” – fuck em.’ The beer Nick was nursing sat dead in front of him, his hands resting on either side. Suddenly he smiled at it, fingers moving around the cinched base of the tall pilsner glass. Nick hated the club scene, hated this club, Magnolia’s. Though confident within its falsely sparkling light, he hated it. For him a night spent before the TV with the one he loved was worth a thousand nights like this; among many, yet utterly alone. Nick’s digits slid over the sweaty surface. His thumbs met in the front and like windshield wipers swept back in matching arcs, transferring moisture from flank to flesh. Bringing them back, nail overlaid nail and Nick felt the wet with some relief. ‘At least,’ he thought. ‘I can feel something.’ His thumbs pushed from near the base, and the glass threatened to tip out of control. Nick’s open palm caught it.

“That cutie over there is really givin’ you the eye!”

Nick bungled, and the glass rolled before he again just barely caught it. He held the eyes of the man standing behind the bar who had broken his spell. The bartender was of good size, clean-shaven of face and head, and very camp drying his glass with a cloth.

This man came up and leaned on the backbar. To him, Nick with his ashen hair and slightly droopy eyes, was being uncharacteristically quiet. He liked this kid every time he saw him. He scanned his white tee-shirt hidden beneath an open leather jacket, knowing the linebacker muscles contained underneath. The bartender glanced over to the windows and spoke confidentially. “That guy over there’s been checkin’ you over pretty bad!”

Nick smiled. “Oh, yeah?”

The bartender shot a flustered hand, standing upright. “What? Are you joking? He’s hot for you, Honey – and get a load of him!” He made a falsely high kind of grunt. “He’s Gorgeous!”

Nick glanced over to where the shaven man had directed and saw a pair of eyes draw away from his. Feigning apathy, Nick said with pursed lips, “Yeah, not bad.”

“Well, Honey”—the man’s hands gripped his hips—“if he gawked at me like that, I can tell you, I wouldn’t—” The bartender paused; a shadow moved over his bright countenance. “Who am I fooling? He’d never look at me the way he does you.” Then earnestly added, “So, go get him, Tiger!”

Nick laughed, and the entire second-floor bar heard him, for he had a big laugh. “Okay, Mom. I’ll see about getting you a son-in-law.” He laughed again, and infectiously, people turned their heads to catch sight of the mouth that made it.

At the open window, the overly warm October breeze wafted in and exchanged itself for the more stagnant and expectant bar air. The sidewalk below was crowded. People milled, waiting for admittance to the disco, or smoked, or just hung out there because they were too young to sneak into the club. Their merry voices and peals of laughter wafted in too, so full of promise and the hope for a life lived in the open, on the sidewalks of life. A crowd like life, it was mixed with diversity. Straight teenage guys hung like rag dolls off the back shoulders of their girlfriends, occasionally rocking and kissing their girl’s neck. They smiled, smoked and hobnobbed with the drag queens from the club next to Magnolia’s. Lesbians from their bar two doors down slummed in Rebel-Without-a-Cause coolness, leaning against the wall. And all the while, boyfriends stood face-to-face and hip-to-hip, pushing out with hands locked around waists, then leaning in, talking quietly and finding the heavy weight of love made it most comfortable of all for them to prop heads on receptive shoulders.

“How’s the popcorn?” Nick stood there, delighted to have completely surprised the stranger. Nick had left the bar to talk to this guy, but had taken his time. First he went to stand by a pool table, feigning interest in a game, but really getting a differing vantage on the young man by the window. Then, he took a tour of the downstairs, only afterwards casually coming up unseen to stand next to the bartender’s pick.

The stranger turned away from people-watching out the window and was surprised. Here stood the guy he’d wanted to meet for weeks. This guy who had a nervous energy that always made him seem on-the-go; though he never appeared relaxed, he was, in fact, never ill-at-ease. This guy appealed because he had confidence in his manners, a bearing that warned people he was going to be forward with them.

From Nick’s point of view, the stranger was a little younger, had darker hair and lighter eyes than he did, and skirted the edges of being Nick’s ‘type.’ Usually he went for jocks, and this guy wasn’t that, except for maybe his handsome looks.

“The popcorn?” the stranger asked, a bit of a laugh creeping into his tone. “Well, it could be fresher, and a lot less salty.”

Nick leaned in, knowing the scent of his leather jacket passing near the stranger’s nose was bound to thrill. “No surprise there.” His hand plunged in, withdrawing a moderate grip. He grinned, and with the other hand, popped three kernels in his mouth. Crewing he added, “No salt, no booze sales – the place would close in a week.”

Nick’s room-sized laughter roared over the stranger’s head, causing him to grin helplessly. The stranger wondered if that was a genuine laugh, or some kind of act. He decided to risk pissing the guy off. “Was it that funny?”

Nick reassured him, “Of course.” His lips smiled, his eyes drawn down a little in the corners. “If I don’t laugh at my jokes, who the hell will?” He repeated the sound, rending the air once more.

The stranger admired it. “You’ve got one hell of a laugh.”

“Hi – I’m Nick. Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand, moving around the table and sitting at the same time.

“I’m Josh. Nice to meet you too.” He felt Nick’s hand take his. It was a little larger, a little softer, but definitely firm and a fine counterpoint to Josh’s.

Nick’s hand released and went back to the popcorn bowl. “You come here a lot?”

“Pretty much.” There was hesitation in Josh’s voice.

Nick ignored the unease. His hand again dove in the bowl and pulled up kernels he guided to his mouth. Unconcerned about the white glints on his teeth, he mouthed the stranger’s name. “So, Joshua . . . that’s a biblical name, right? Kinda weird, but I like it.”

“Yeah. When I was born, my father got out the Bible, held it in his hands above the kitchen table. He told me he had it between his palms, and you know, said a kind of prayer, like, ‘Help us know what our son will be like; what he’s destined to be.’ And then, just as he let it fall on the table, it opened flat. The first name he saw was Joshua.”

“No, it’s a good name.” Nick made a sour face. “You’re lucky it’s not ‘Caleb.’” And then he leaned in. “As I remember, Joshua is mentioned several times as being Moses’ ‘Special Friend’”—he leaned in even closer, forcing Josh to follow suit—“and I heard he could blow one mean horn.” An eruption of molten laughter pushed both away with equal force. Nick gathered himself, adding, “See, I remember my Sunday School.”

Josh pulled back, feeling the room suddenly alive with his new friend’s mirth, and this time he glanced around the room to witness the envious stares coming his way: one guy shooting pool scanned across the green felt; another cigarette-holding blond puffed with squinted eyes in their direction; and the bartender, wiping a glass, smiled warmly over to them. There was something wonderful about Nick, and Josh felt the man was almost never alone in laughing at his jokes. He shook his head. “You really killed yourself on that one, didn’t you?”

Nick nodded agreement.

“You know, I’ve seen you around before.”

“Yeah. Where?”

“At Angles, and one time here a few weeks ago.”

“You saw me around before tonight?” Nick double-checked, making Josh a little nervous.

“Yeah . . . . ”

“Then, can I ask you a question?” He brooked no interval for permission. “If I didn’t come over here and talk to you, you think you would have gone up to me?”

“I don’t know—”

“You don’t know, but probably not.” Nick supplied what the other couldn’t.

Josh was very uncomfortable. He debated telling this guy – a guy he was so very attracted to – how new Joshua was to the whole scene; new to being Gay at all. He squirmed a little on his seat. “Why do you ask that; what do you want to know?”

Nick’s mouth relaxed; his expression, always smiling, betrayed a lost feeling when not doing that. “I want to know why you’re here. Did you come here to drink? Because, if you’re not here to talk to anybody, that’s all you’re doing. Right?”

“Just a moment.” Josh was grinning, but he could feel the wave of heat rise off his chest. “That’s not the sort of bar-talk I was prepared for. I was ready to talk about this warm autumn we’re having, what music I like – so I don’t know how to suddenly switch to soul-searching.” He glanced around, as if displaying his smirk for the uncaring room. “But I didn’t come here to drink.”

“I know that, and I know why you came here tonight. You came to meet someone, ain’t that right? Looking for Mr. Right!”

“Yes, I guess so.”

“Then how you gonna find him, without talking to people?”

There was a pause in which Nick watched the other young man’s grin grow rigid. He slowly felt Josh’s nervous energy turn into anger.

“Well, if you think I came here to be lectured to – or badgered – by some guy I don’t even know, you’re wrong.”

In an instant, Nick’s curiosity about this guy he was sharing a popcorn bowl with deepened unaccountably. He felt for him; maybe felt something for him that he was totally unprepared for. Nevertheless, Nick relented, feeling suddenly like a little boy who’d just realized he was hurting a puppy.

“Take it easy.” He threw his hands up to show Nick was harmless. “I didn’t mean anything by that – nothin’ bad at least – don’t go cold on me. I’m already sorry I said it, ‘cause, like you said, it’s not bar-talk.” Nick saw his old boyfriend’s face flash before his memory; the moment they met. For Nick it had been love at first sight. But, he wondered, why was he thinking about that?

Josh sat back on his stool. He didn’t realize how tense he’d become until he relaxed. He didn’t know why he got angry, over what, in reflection, seemed nothing. Maybe he should tell Nick what a novice he was to the whole scene.

Nick smacked his lips a couple of times and spun on his seat to watch the crowd below. The silence between them only appeared to widen. Nick had rotated one hundred eighty degrees to prop his elbows on the high windowsill, and leaned with his legs kicked and crossed out in front of him.

Josh followed the lines of Nick’s angle from his expensive sneakers and white socks, over the well-built calves and thighs under his jeans, over the leather that smelled so good, over the hints of pure white barely hiding a built chest and shoulders. He studied the profile he had first seen only a few weeks ago. Why did it have such power memory and imagination as strongly as it did in the here and now, right before him? Why did it make him sad? Why couldn’t he communicate to Nick what Nick was doing to him; they were so close, yet Joshua had no hope of contact. “I didn’t come here for sex.” Josh’s voice was almost a whisper.

Nick turned to him. “Then for what?”

“If you make me say it out loud, I’ll get embarrassed, and it’ll sound stupid and corny. But, you know.” He hoped he did.

“No. What?” Nick too whispered in a tender, reaching tone.

“For love.”

“You think you’re going to find it in this room, ‘cause”—his sad eyes scoped out their setting—“this place is full of people who don’t care for nothing but themselves, all a little lonely, none of them very happy with the way they’ve grown up.” Time stood still for the pair, simply locked on one another. "Josh," he said so suddenly, the familiarity startled both of them. “No one’s going to send you a letter saying ‘here I am.’ You’ve got to go get him yourself. There,” he announced. “End of lesson.” His right hand reached across the space beneath the table and grabbed Joshua’s thigh, squeezing it for reassurance.

“You know,” Nick went on in a new light; a happier one. “You’re really different from the boys I usually have to talk to around here.”

Josh said, “I know, I’ve heard that before, and somehow I think people tell me things they’d never tell another person.”

“That’s not exactly what I mean. I mean, most guys say”—he mimicked a caveman with a lisp—“Duh . . . . Let’s fuck!”

Josh chuckled. He looked into the popcorn bowl, at the kernel he had been holding for the last few minutes, stymied to set it down, or to do something with it. It seemed so far away, yet so near.

Nick reached out to place his large hand around Josh’s forearm as it rested on the table. He so wished Josh would speak to him; say something real, just one real goddamn real thing to him. He whispered, “What’s up?”

Josh took the hand from his arm, and with it pulled Nick halfway across the table. With his other hand he tugged on the leather-clad shoulder and bent Nick’s ear to his lips. Josh spoke as if to himself. “God, you’re so beautiful – can we just get out of here?”

 

˚˚˚˚˚

 

The white sports coupe moved along well, which was fortunate, because Nick drove fast. Heading south through city streets sparse of traffic and dry in the warm autumn night, Josh felt better to be out of the bar.

“Pizza, eh?” Nick intoned. “Is Imo’s okay?”

“Where’re we headed?”

“Southtown, kid.”

“Somehow I didn’t peg you as a Southtown boy. You’re too—”

“Watch it . . . . ”

“—Too sweet.”

“Damn. That’s about the worst thing you could’ve said. You’re a real County brat, ain’t ya?”

“Guilty and convicted – boring as charged.”

“But which pizza, ‘cause I have to turn soon. Imo’s or Dewey’s?”

“Imo’s.” Josh was getting adamant in which one he preferred. “In fact, the last time I had Dewey’s it was kinda traumatic. Remember that big snowstorm we had back right before Christmas? Well, my friend, who’s a girl, and I were practically alone in the dorm and we suddenly had to have pizza. But it was already 9:40, and they were probably getting ready to close, but we called anyway and got the last guy still working there. He said he was on his way home, but he’d bring us a pie. It’s weird, but now I can still see and feel and smell everything. Like the way his car pulled up, slowly, through several inches of the unplowed white stuff. My friend and me dashed out to meet him. The snow was falling so quietly and so peaceful, it seemed like the stars were falling on us. I can still feel it hit my cheeks and instantly melt like some frozen tears, and then my friend and I bundled our money together and found out we had just enough to cover the pizza – no tip. I see the guy standing there, by his rear fender, his emergency lights flashing, his khaki pants, loose and dusted with flour; and his face, haggard and exhausted. We told him sorry, next time, but we got his name. That was the sourest pizza I ever ate.”

“That sucks.”

“I know. So the next day I call up and order again. They acted kinda suspicious, ‘cause I requested a driver by name, and you should’ve seen how pissed he was to lay eyes on me again. Anyway, I paid him twice as much as he needed and told him not to hold a grudge. We all make mistakes.”

“So you believe in Karma, eh?”

“Car-who?”

“Karma. You’ve never heard of Karma? That’s a belief in balance: you do something bad; you do something good. You do more good than bad, and presto, even better comes to you.”

“Karma, huh? Yeah. I guess I believe in that, because that’s the kind of stuff I need to sleep well.”

“Sweet . . . ” Nick rubbed Josh’s word in Josh’s face.

“Speaking of sweet, I hear in Japan they’ve got some pretty weird ideas about pizza. I heard they put pineapple and squid and tuna on the same pie. Can you believe it? Man, I’m so hungry, even those sound good.” Josh slumped back in his seat. He felt good. He was at ease with Nick, and if pressed, might not have been able to say he had had a happier moment in his life; it teetered on the edge of expectation and hope. He surveyed the means of this sudden contentment, studying the profile of Nick as it came in and out of the passing streetlights.

When he glanced at him, Nick’s smile became broad and sincere. “Damn, boy! We better get you to a pizza, fast!”

         

˚˚˚˚˚

 

Nick’s car pulled forward into a spot, then glided backwards until it perfectly fit in the space available. In his head, Nick dampened any kind of exhilaration that might tip his hand. He was potentially falling for this odd duck of a boy in the passenger seat. He had no idea what this guy thought about him, and that was the root of the possible thrill; the thinking that something mutual was occurring right then and there, before all the world to see. So, for now, he’d play it cool; look for opportunities to impress in suitable ways this Joshua he’d only just met.

The glass-fronted pizza shop on Hampton Avenue was pick-up/delivery only; no tables. The whole operation was open to view via continuous, floor-to-ceiling, side-to-side windows. As Nick opened the door with a broad smile and a grand hand gesture, he caught sight of Josh’s eyes scanning the several teenage boys in the waiting area inside. Nick puzzled a moment why their presence seemed to instantly put his companion on guard.

Inside the shop, Nick rubbed his hands together, and surveyed the surroundings and the five boys who eyed him and Josh with hostile apathy. Some were sitting, a couple leaning; all the conversation stopped the moment they saw Josh. One boy, a bit more suave than his buddies, leaned against the wall with a foot propped behind his back. He had long dark hair, half-hidden by a knit cap on his head, dark soul-searching eyes, and a puckered mouth that made little indiscreet noises as he shifted a plastic straw from side to side. Nick could instantly tell the other boys looked up to this one. In some way he was the leader, and the example to their image of how a seventeen-year-old sophisticate should model himself. ‘Yes,’ Nick thought, ‘a teenage idol, ripe for the picking.’ He grinned and nodded at the leader, who shifted his straw and nodded back, much to the surprise of the other boys.

“Okay,” Nick’s commanding voice rang out. “What do you want?”

Josh’s first glimpse of the man behind the counter – a twenty-something, whom Josh guessed to be Iranian – was followed by a glance up to the illuminated menu over this man’s head. “Let’s go with pepperoni, mushrooms, black olives and extra cheese; provel – of course.”

Nick spoke generally to the assembled teenage audience. “Too bad he doesn’t know what he wants . . . . ”

The boys raised suspicious and mirth-turned mouth corners, their eyes darting one to the other. The leader chuckled.

Josh wondered what Nick was doing, exactly. He got a passing appraisal of the boy leaning and mouthing a straw. ‘Now,’ he thought, ‘that’s a Southtown boy!’

Nick pretended to scan the ingredient list. His voice boomed back to the ends of the closed ovens. “I was really hoping for some squid and pineapple.”

The boys did laugh at this, knees came up to chests of those sitting. The leader stood and adjusted back into a new lean.

“What?!” the order-taker said with no humor.

Nick stared him down, striding right up the counter. “So, that was pepperoni, extra provel, mushrooms and . . . what?”

“Black olives—” the straw boy suggested.

“—Black olives!” confirmed Nick with a devilish smile.

“Size?”

Nick turned to Josh. “What size you like, generally?”

Innuendo sailing over his head, Josh replied, “I like ‘em large.”

The teenagers guffawed.

“Damn, kid”—Nick’s eyes twinkled—“you that hungry?"

“Pretty hungry.”

The peanut gallery laughed again. The leader tossed out, “The kid’s probably thirsty too.”

"A large pizza.” Nick’s happy expression rippled back in place. “And two Cokes – to go!”

The order-taker continued to scrawl on the order pad, but sneered in Nick’s face. “It’s gonna take a while. We’ve got quite a few call-in orders ahead of you.”

“No prob.” And Nick turned with a hand going to Josh’s arm, then over his shoulder. They stood by the widow and Nick gestured with his head. “And what do you think they are?” Nick delighted in Josh’s eyes growing round.

“What do you mean?” Josh blinked.

Nick spoke directly to the boys in a kind of singsong. “What are you guys doing? Waitin’ for pizzas to deliver? – What are you, delivery boys or something?”

The leader in his jeans and tee-shirt shifted weight, removed his straw, and exuded that half-baked confidence only seventeen-year-olds can pull off. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Josh swallowed hard, expecting the next few words out the young tough’s mouth would include ‘What are you, f*gg*ts or something?’ Instead the leader simply looked to his companions with a silly smile. Josh had a wild image. What if he did say that? What would the man gripping his shoulder do? Josh imagined Nick’s grin spreading after the intended slur was in the air; maybe he’d say ‘Yeah. So?;’ maybe he’d simply draw Josh by his grip around the neck and kiss him with a loud smack on the lips. He half-wanted to see it now. Whatever Nick would do, Josh knew for sure it would involve no half-assed denials.

“How about the rest of you guys?” Nick badgered on, squeezing Josh’s shoulder, which he had not let go of. Agreement was expressed by the other teenagers with nods and faint but audible voices.

A bell rang out sharply. The boy at the far end sprang up and strolled to the counter. He picked up a pair of pizza boxes and a bag with some drinks. As he exited the front door, he nodded to his buddies. They shifted down, offering the leader a seat, but he refused.

Nick let go of Josh and sauntered over to stand next to the straw boy. He leaned on the wall and modeled his stance on the seventeen-year-old. Nick knew only Josh could see that. Relaxed, he addressed them generally, “You guys get big tips?” He shot a quick wink to Joshua, who had to glance to his own shoes to suppress a smirk.

“Sometimes”—the straw boy ventured—“but it always depends on the guy we deliver it to.” The leader’s voice sounded unnaturally mellow, but there was an effervescence in his eyes for Nick. “Some guys got big tips to give. Some guys, no.”

“How do the ladies tip?”

The counter bell rang again. The boy next at bat got up and checked his order.

The leader locked on to Nick’s eye, then darted his gaze to Josh for a second. A smile warmed his coolness. “The ladies, huh? Oh, they tip pretty good . . . . ”

The exiting boy waved a jocular hand at his buddies as he went out the front door.

The leader continued, “Depends on what they look like. You know what I mean?”

Nick pursed his lips. “Nah, not really. I never – delivered a pizza before.” Nick winked at the boy, and a blushing expression spread over the teen’s face.

The bell rang again. Again, the boys shifted; again, the leader refused to sit next by his one remaining buddy.

Nick went on, “I live around here, so if I call – you could be the delivery boy?”

“Possibly.”

“Probably . . . ?”

“Possibly – ask for Kyle, okay?”

“Kyle, I’m Nick. That’s Josh.” Warm greeting and head-nods were exchanged.

The bell sounded; the last sitting boy sprang up.

Nick pressed it. “How old are you?”

“Old enough.”

“Eighteen?”

“Soon enough.”

The man behind the counter shouted: “Your order’s up.” He stared Nick down; before him was a box and two loose Coke cups.

When Nick and Josh were striding and ready to leave the shop, with box and drinks in hand, the leader was standing by the door to open it for them. The straw dangled in his fingers like a dejected love token. He leaned over at a rakish angle, pushing the door outwards for them. Josh went first. Nick lingered. “See you around, Kyle.”

The leader appeared suddenly awash in profound sorrow, but he said in a hushed tone, “Good luck with him, Nick,” and he winked at the ashen-haired man, faintly, casually; the ideal wink of seventeen-year-olds everywhere.

As the door closed behind them, Nick grabbed Josh’s shoulder again, walking him to the car. “How’s your Gaydar?”

Josh was astounded. “You think that kid’s Gay?”

Now Nick was astounded. “Think? Man, you’ve got a lot to learn. There are going to be Gay people everywhere you go; everywhere. And you’ve got to learn to be open to receive them – We’re nowhere near as rare as society taught you to believe!” His laughter erupted and rattled the side-to-side, floor-to-ceiling windows of Imo’s pizza shop.

 

˚˚˚˚˚

 

The top of Josh’s thighs burned. He inserted his hands between them and the bottom of the pizza box. Again Nick’s car was rolling fast under the city streetlights. Hoping for an answer of ‘My place,’ he asked Nick, “So, where are we going to eat this?”

“Willmore Park.”

“We’re going to eat in a park?”

“Yeah, why not? It’s nice there. They’ve got a lake or pond or whatever, and nobody goes there this time of night. And, they’ve got ducks.”

Willmore Park is a little over a hundred acres, spreading itself along a curving riverbank, and topographically diverse. A hollow meanders along its eastern side housing a lake. Across the narrow part of the lake is a modernist footbridge in a low concrete arch and stylish handrails. Rising to the west of the water is a hill crowned with a red-roofed picnic pavilion. Here barbeque grills await the ever-elusive perfect summer’s day.

Nick parked under a bright streetlight. Josh fumbled with the door and pizza box. Nick came to close the door, and both watched two figures cross the street and disappear down the slope in front of them. Something long and barely casting a shadow bobbed in their hands. “You ever been here?” Nick asked.

“Nope.”

“Some people like to do a bit of fishing, off-the-books.”

Nick led the way. Down the slope, they were soon out of sight of the road and sidewalk. Below them loomed a dark plate of glassy water. Nick took Josh to the center of the footbridge and stopped. He leaned his elbows against the railing. Josh came up to him and cast a glance up the hill to the faintly lit picnic pavilion.

“It’s beautiful,” Josh said.

Suddenly Nick stood. “Are you chilled? You don’t have a jacket.”

“I’m fine.”

“Let me know, and you can have mine.”

Josh was so touched, he thought he’d drop the pizza in the water. “No, I’m fine,” Josh said, but thought, ‘So, that’s what men could be like if they drop all the matcho bullshit?’

“Come on, we’ll leave the fishermen to it. I know a spot.”

Nick led the way down the other end of the bridge and around the water to a gentle slope. Nick folded his legs under him and deftly sat on his heels in one controlled motion. He set the Cokes down and reached for the pizza box. Josh sat while the lid flew open. Nick said, “Let’s eat.”

As both went at the pie, the ensuing silence was broken only by chewing and slurps of Coke. Unconcerned by the cheese on his teeth, Nick said, “Did you see the ducks?”

Josh shook his head.

“They’re around here somewhere. I guess at night they don’t ‘walk-on-water.’”

“Ducks don’t walk on water.”

“You believe what you want, but if you watch ‘em, it looks to me just like they walk on water. I wish I could.”

Josh laughed. “You’re a funny one, Nick, and I love it.”

“Imagine it – to be able to metaphorically walk above all the stuff that’s supposed to pull us down. Wouldn’t that be great?”

“It seems to me you pretty much already know how to do that.”

“You think so?”

“From where I sit – where I’d sink like a stone, you’d stroll like a landlord.”

Eventually the pace of eating slowed. The greasy-bottomed box contained only a few random slices. Nick closed it officiously and wiped his fingers and mouth on a paper napkin before taking off his jacket. He rolled it up into a long pillow and propped it behind his head while falling back on to the grass. His back rested on the incline, his eyes raised straight up. “I almost crashed a glass tonight.”

“A glass?”

“Yeah. I was playing with balancing a glass on the bar. I almost lost it. We all need balance; out of whack, and the tipping point comes up on us real fast.” In Nick’s head, an almost painful hope clouded his vision of the stars above. He thought he saw for an instant a time in the future when Josh and he were together, and happy and settled. Far above him the nearly full harvest moon appeared pure and round, and loomed larger than normal. Dramatically transparent clouds slowly inched their way across her face, while points of lights formed a background. Nick wondered if this was really all he needed to be happy, and how much the near-by young man had to do with it.

Joshua touched Nick. He touched the curling ashen hair growing from Nick’s forearm, and gently rubbed down to the top of his hand. Nick’s hand turned and grasped on to his. Their fingers interlaced in gentle exploration. Josh spoke in hushed tones, patting Nick’s tee-shirt over his belly. “Is it all right?”

Nick half-glanced; he saw Josh wanted to rest his head on his tummy, and Nick thought there could be nothing in life he would want more. So, with his free hand, he guided Josh’s head in place and lingered there, to feel his hair.

Josh turned his gaze a moment to see Nick’s droopy eyes smile at him, and through his ear pressed on his abdomen, he could hear Nick’s strong heartbeat, and the movement of the former pizza.

Four eyes looked to the event of the night happening over them; two hands sought each other out, taking for granted how much one wanted to hold the other.

“Do you ever wonder about other places out there?”

“What do you mean?” Nick asked.

“Like here and now, this kind of place? Do you think it exists somewhere else out there? Like, think about all the worlds those tiny lights represent. Every one could stand for a million times and events we’ll never see.” The night filled the newly created void of his silence instantly. He continued more softly, “Can you imagine, there might be two people out there looking back at us and wondering if we exist too – thinking about what places they can’t even imagine might be like. Maybe it’s a place as peaceful and beautiful as this.”

Nick’s fingers skimmed quietly through Joshua’s hair. As softly as he could – so Josh would know he was not joking – he said, “Two people, enjoying their own Willmore pizza.”

“Yeah. Their own perfect moment, with someone who understands.” Josh’s eyes had to close from the weight of the realization. Nick’s touch, through his hair, the squeeze of his hand in his own, these seemed more real than anything he had ever thought in his whole life. There was nothing ‘gay’ about this – this was life, pure and simple. Why had he ever wasted time with anything but this, with anything but trying to keep this feeling going, making it bigger than himself, as the old prayer goes, ‘to magnify’ the soul? Opening his eyes fully, his lips formed a verse he had heard once long ago, which now he suddenly felt he could understand.

 

“Here we sit at summer’s end,

the advantageous side of despair,

And wonder what price future days will spend,

to know what we do, of love’s sweet air.”

 

 

“What’s that from?” Nick asked.

“You know, I can’t remember who said it, but I don’t think it matters anymore. I’ve come to believe that the only sin possible is to waste a day without coming closer to something more than yourself, something you can’t see or buy. Like this: this time with you; this place; the sky. How can I ever forget what it feels like this very minute.” Inside, Josh felt like the glass in Nick’s hand. He teetered on his own personal tipping point. He’d fall on the side of truth, and maybe Nick would catch him.

Josh sat up. He scootched and folded his legs under him to sit by Nick’s side. Nick lifted himself up on an elbow. They retook each other’s hand. Josh started revealing with a strain of nerves, “I guess I gotta tell you – I haven’t been out long. Haven’t been with many guys, and none of them I really felt much of a connection to.”

“That’s all right, Josh. I figured as much.”

“With the couple of guys I’ve been with, there was always something holding me back. I don’t have any self-confidence – I guess I used their opinions of me to boost my opinion of myself.” He gripped Nick’s hand hard, shook it a bit. “You know why I’m attracted to you?”

Nick shook his head, his other hand coming down on top of Josh’s.

“Not only because you’re so goddamn handsome, but more because of your easygoing ways; your self-possession and poise. I bet you could walk on water, if you really made up your mind to do it.” Joshua laughed. “I was fuckin’ jealous of the way that pizza kid looked at you; who wouldn’t be? But, then I remembered the important thing: the way you looked at me.”

Nick sat straight up. “That’s about the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me; said about me. Is that what you really think?”

“If you could see yourself through my eyes, you’d know.”

Nick blinked a few sad times. He leaned back and pulled on Josh’s arm. Nick laid his arm flat and pulled Josh to recline next to him. Josh rotated and lay his head on Nick’s armpit and chest, and Nick leaned down and kissed his forehead.

Josh was about to wreck himself on the truth; the truth he dare not say before, even to himself. “I hate being Gay – I feel everyone’s always watching me like they know. And like they’re judging me negatively.”

Nick’s hand returned to stoking Joshua’s hair. “Maybe they’re just jealous. You ever think of that? And why not? You’re young, good looking, brains to beat the band, and you’re able to get what you want out of life – you’re free, baby. Free. Think about them: tied to a job, maybe a mortgage, probably a wife, when all they dream about is Interstate cock in the rest stop – disgusting; living a lie. In their eyes, your life is promise, is hope, and worst of all to them, your life is the one they squandered to the pressure to conform. So, next time you think they’re judging you, fuck em. You’re the one on the moral high ground; you’re the one who can judge them.”

Josh had to turn away. He didn’t want Nick to see the moisture collecting in the corners of his eyes. He chanted softly, playing with Nick’s hand:

 

 

“And wonder what price future days will spend,

to know what we do, of love’s own sweet air.”

 

 

Josh turned upwards, happier, to peer into the sky. “I don’t want to ever forget what it feels like this very minute, ‘cause of all the times up there, or down here, future or past – I wouldn’t trade this moment to live or be in any of them. And you know why? Because, all in all, today was a pretty good day to be alive.”

Nick blinked. He raised a hand and felt the head on his arm; he felt Josh’s ear linger over his heart, listening to him in the most intimate way possible. His eyes wandered over the stars, his fingers moved through his hair, and his mouth began to tighten and his eyes became tense slits. He was about to lose his cool to the tough notion of love; possible love for this man he had only met a few hours ago. His free hand reached down and slipped between Josh’s shirt and skin at the collar. Josh stirred a bit, but Nick shushed him. All he wanted was to feel Josh’s heartbeat too. He felt it, and Nick’s lungs brought the dull beating drum of lasting love into his chest as their beats linked up in unison. Over their heads, Nick’s eyes told him of the endless night, where void is not void, if only seen from the vantage of love.

Overwhelmed, Nick patted Josh’s chest. He belted out a sigh. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

 

˚˚˚˚˚

 

Josh stood at the edge of the picnic pavilion. He cast his gaze out over the rise that fronted the lake, and to the side, the gentle bend in the River Des Peres. He called back to Nick, who was sitting on top of a table in the center of the structure. “This river goes through Forest Park, doesn’t it?”

“Joshua, come over here.”

As he walked towards the guy’s smiling face, Josh further kvetched. “Maybe we shouldn’t have left the pizza box. There were a couple of slices left.”

“They’ll be there when we get back.”

Josh walked into Nick’s open arms and legs. He turned and propped his arms on top of the other guy’s thighs. Slowly he leaned his head back to glance up into Nick’s eyes. Nick responded by leaning down and putting a peck on Josh’s lips. Josh laughed once or twice for sheer joy.

Nick asked, “Nice view, isn’t it? This is why I wanted to bring you here.”

Josh admired the lake. “Couldn’t be better.”

Within Nick, a nagging and too-familiar doubt began to surface. Somewhere he had heard and remembered that passions born too quickly are the ones that burn out the fastest, like with his past boyfriend, a guy he loved at first sight. Maybe he better start testing Josh by revealing some of Nick’s less-than-admirable traits. Nick chuckled. “How old do you think I am? And you better get it right.”

“About twenty-three, I guess. You don’t look older.”

“Really? You’re not just being a good guy and saying that, are you?”

“No, I mean it. How old are you? You look twenty-three to me—”

“Twenty-eight.”

Josh turned again within the grasp of Nick’s legs. He really didn’t care. “Oh.”

“My birthday was last month—”

“Happy birthday.”

“You know what my mom gave me?”

“No.”

“Collagen."

Josh’s stare turned blank.

“You know, the wrinkle cream to put around your eyes and mouth.”

“Why’d she give you that?”

“‘Cause I asked her.” Nick flared up in self-defense. “That stuff costs a hundred bucks a jar”—he pinched about two inches out of the air—“a little jar too.” Suddenly Nick’s smile was gone. “You didn’t know I was that vain, did you?”

Josh didn’t know what to say. Nick’s face appeared perfect as-is, but whatever makes a person happy. He shrugged.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Nick pressed it.

“Ditto. There’s time.”

“I mean, bad stuff.”

Josh laughed a little. “Like what?”

“That my dad’s an asshole.”

“Well, get in line . . . . Doesn’t he like you?”

“No, not much.”

“How about your mom?”

“She’s okay, I guess, at least now anyways. When I was in high school, I couldn’t stand either one of them.”

“They know . . . ?”

“Yeah. I came out right after graduation. The day I moved out.” The night crept back into the pause. Nick found it difficult to admit, “I used to think of ways to do them in. You know, like – leave the gas on one night and sneak away – and kid-shit like that. But then, I finally came up with a way I thought would work. It was perfect. The way to get rid of both of them at the same time. It was so simple. All I’d have to do is, one night sneak into the garage, get under the car and snip the brake lines. Of course, not all the way through, then they’d notice the puddle of brake fluid, but just kind of fray them till they were almost gone. Then, they’d be driving, and presto snappo; No brakes! I could see them going down a huge hill, screaming”—Nick’s hand flew above his head and shook—“through an intersection till, KaPiOW- KaBiOOM, they’d get smacked by a bus. Problem solved.”

Josh swallowed hard. “But, it was only thinking. I mean, it’s not like you actually cut the lines.”

Nick studied the impact that this true information had already had on Josh. He’d upset him. And this upset Nick. He felt the notion that Josh was too good for him might be right. Nick elaborated on the story with falsehood; a mercy lie to drive the boy he liked away. “Well . . . one. I guess it wasn’t enough though.” Nick was devastated to see it work. Josh was confused, the rocking of his world was written across his face. Nick stood up abruptly. He hopped down on the concrete and walked to the edge of the picnic area. He thought he might be sick; but not for long.

Josh walked up behind Nick and placed his right arm over Nick’s right shoulder. He slid his left one beneath the young man’s other arm. He brought his hands together on Nick’s chest and rested his chin on the collar of his leather jacket, rocking gently.

Nick looked down on the arms about him. Now he was going to lose it; lose it if he didn’t do something right then and there. He turned himself around within Joshua’s embrace, and grabbed the back of the young man’s head. He drew him into the most heartfelt kiss he’d ever given in his life. The level of reciprocated passion rose degree by degree as Nick’s hand continued to drive Josh ever closer. Soon he felt Josh’s lower body press against his; their mutual excitement touched and responded to one another through several layers of clothes. Josh’s right hand began to stroke Nick’s cheek and was startled to find some moisture there, but then Josh, the wild churning of the stars in his head, slowly reached with his other hand and caressed Nick’s cock yearning for freedom through the denim. Nick’s hands in response pulled up Josh’s shirttails and caressed the bare skin of his back from shoulder-tops to below the waistband of his jeans. Josh reeled in unpent passion; he couldn’t get enough of the kisses of this boy he was so overwhelmingly attracted to. Nick’s touch moved him down to his soul. It was like the end of a movie, and how was Josh to believe this was part of his story?

Suddenly, Nick’s hands came around under Josh’s shit to his chest. He guided him back. Josh blinked. The droopy eyes before him had never seemed as lovely; the lips that Nick licked, so appealing. Nick’s visage grew oddly determined. He checked to the right; then to the left. Holding Josh’s gaze, his hands reached down to Josh’s fly. As soon as he grabbed on to the zipper, Josh stepped back, out of his reach. He tried to control his voice as he whispered, “No . . . not here . . . . ”

Nick appeared stricken, like he’d made some unforgivable mistake. His surprise raised his brows into question marks, then relaxed them into sadness. Nick threw his arms over Josh’s shoulders, and he felt Josh hold on to him.

Onto Josh’s neck, Nick’s breaths became broken. Josh heard and felt the heavy voice come from the face he could not watch, “Oh, God. I’ll never see you again in my life—”

Josh pushed on Nick’s chest so he could see him. “What made you say that?”

Nick sighed; a lighter look fell over him, the ends of his mouth flickered. “You’re so beautiful – you don’t even know—”

“It’s okay.” Josh took him in his arms again; rocked him. “We have all the time in the world.”

Nick drew away enough. He touched Joshua’s ears, inviting him in for another kiss, a lingering one. Afterwards, still holding on, Nick rested his head upon Josh’s shoulder. An odd shadow of movement caught Nick’s bent attention. He asked softly, “What was that light?”

The rim of the hill in front of them was suddenly illuminated; just the rim, and just for a second.

Nick lifted his head. “There! Did you see it?!”

“Yeah . . . . ”

“Oh, shit!” Nick started dancing around, tucking his shirttail in his jeans. Josh stood there, not knowing what was happening.

Again the hill was lit, this time more brightly, and the open structure of the pavilion’s ceiling cast wild and dancing shadows everywhere. It was like an instant case of seasickness.

Nick jumped around, looking at where he had sat. Joshua turned to the light when it reappeared, and realized it was a patrol car, one driving over the hills and coming right for them. He turned from the light to Nick who was jogging around from foot to foot, saying, “They can’t do this. They ain’t got nothing . . . . ”

The searchlight was trained on them now, the car coming to a stop by the side of the pavilion.

They listened to the car door open; they couldn’t see it, or anybody behind it, because the light was blinding them. Nick finally stood still, and at that moment they heard, "What you boys doing out here?"

Josh heard Nick from behind him, “It’s okay officer, we were just leaving.”

Josh scrutinized Nick, utterly surprised at his comment, and he almost started laughing. This time, the smile Nick rained down on him was genuine and full of sincere humor. He might start laughing too.

During the process of being asked lame questions, turning over their IDs, and being lectured at by the city’s finest, a heat began to rise in Joshua. The fishermen were left alone, so why not Nick and he? One flame rose at the thought of injustice. Josh turned to the officer, then to the man he had just been kissing a few minutes before; another flame was relief that they hadn’t started to do more than kiss. But other sparks gathered behind these two, small ones accumulating like the countless points in the sky, kindling up a blaze of hope.

The colored lights flashed. Another patrol car came, and Josh glanced between these men, and especially at Nick. He felt his nervous energy transforming into some sense of a stable confidence; some kind of pride born of shared experience. And yes, he was glad to be there, glad to be alive, even in this light.

 

˚˚˚˚˚

 

In front of Magnolia’s, the diverse crowd lingered. Straights, and drag queens, and boyfriends and girlfriends all took in the warm autumn air and the shared company of one another.

Across the street, a white sports car pulled up and parked. The lights went off, and Josh and Nick stayed silent a moment. Joshua sat with an empty pizza box on his lap, and Nick’s jacket on his shoulders and hugging his chest. His eyes scanned the trouble-beset profile of the ashen-haired boy by his side, while the noise and hilarity of the sidewalk drifted in from the open windows.

Nick still gripped the steering wheel, rocking his head slightly. “Now you’ll really never want to see me again. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault!” Josh coursed with life.

“Those cops, they’re just on the prowl for a big one.” Nick adjusted himself. He didn’t notice what Josh was doing. “They’ll all just cruising for some cock. That prick was just mad he didn’t get any!” Nick glanced over. The warmth of Josh’s smile startled him. “What?”

“I wonder what happened to the rest of the pizza? The box was empty when we got back.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess the ducks got it.”

“Ducks eat pizza?”

For a moment Nick was himself again. “After they’re done walking on water, yeah, they love provel!” Slowly then, the seriousness retook him. He sighed. “I hope that ticket’s no problem for you. That’s another thing, they ain’t got nothing on us, so the jerk writes us”—he mimicked a condescending child—“breaking curfew tickets. Give me a break! You think those fishermen dudes got tickets for stealing city fish? Hell no. And why? ‘Cause they weren’t suspected of ‘Queering up’ Willmore Park, were they? Fuckin’ pigs.”

“Yeah, and they were breaking the law – not us.”

Nick looked again like he was about to lose it. Thoughts of being old, and not holding the interest of those he found attractive, crowded his vision. He had to ask, “Are you sure you like me?”

Josh touched Nick’s cheek; again, he was startled to find it moist. “That’s one thing you don’t have to worry about.”

Josh got out of the car. He carefully placed the box on his seat and went around to lean on Nick’s front fender. He began to scan the crowd, several people noticing him and the way he confidently grinned and folded his arms. Nick joined him. Josh said, “That ticket is a badge of honor to me.” He turned a radiant beam on Nick. “It proves where we were, and what we were doing – it leads us to here and now. It’s our token of having lived today, and lived it with each other, and pretty out loud too.”

Nick was a bit amazed. “Joshua, what’s happened to you?”

“Nick, see all those people there; see this great guy standing by my side? So tell me I’m not lucky to be counted among them, because I’m not mad anymore. Fuck it, I’m glad to be Gay – and you know why?”

Nick shook his head.

“Because if I weren’t Gay, I never would have met you and had that stupid Willmore pizza, and what would I be then?”

“You’re saying . . . today was a pretty good day to be alive.”

“More than good. I left my phone number on that pizza box – don’t throw it away. I’ll be needing more of you, Nick – a lot more of you, and I don’t care who knows it.”

Josh stood, and by doing so, caught the attention of most of the crowd. He picked up Nick’s hand and drew him to a standing position, then he put his hand behind Nick’s head and kissed him like he meant it; and Nick kissed back. The scent of linebacker and leather rose in the diminishing space between them – Nick’s pleasant manly scent rising directly from Josh’s chest as if straight from his own heart. Combined with the rest, it collapsed all of his senses, and he tasted Nick’s provocative kiss like it was the first time all over again.

As their hands explored waistlines – and shoulders and backs – and as the kissing drew out ever longer and more passionate returns, the cheers of the crowd lifted to roars of encouragement. In Josh’s brain, thoughts merged and divided again; sights of sunshine and the feel of green grass against his palm, the aroma of Nick’s arm reaching for popcorn, the taste of pepperoni and toasted cheese, and yes, even visions of ducks walking on placid lake water. Together they easily dispelled all the weakling attempts of doubt to reassert itself. There was no going back.

Joshua let go of Nick. Their lips parted, their eyes – staying closed for a moment – opened to see contentment in the other. Now the pair finally allowed their ears to perceive the jubilance of the audience they didn’t quite know they had. Nick took his thumb and wiped a bit of slobber off of Josh’s lower lip, and Josh responded by kissing the boy’s finger.

Josh smiled, and said softly, “I think we should take a bow.”

Nick slowly shook his head. “You first.”

                    

~

 

 

 

 

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