GWM - 14. Chapter 14 of 18

Jimmy

Jimmy seemed even more hopeful, though his ad sounded a little dopey. It rhymed, didn’t quite scan, and the voice mail identified the advertiser as “a 28-year-old romantic, 6 foot, 160, with black hair, brown eyes, and a smooth chest.” Harry didn’t especially like ads that pushed body parts, and Jimmy’s voice sounded thick and athletic. Still, there was some combination that Harry found attractive.
Jimmy didn’t call for a week. On the phone, he sounded more articulate than his message, and he quickly apologized for that. “I was pretty nervous,” he said. “I’ve run ads before, but not recently. And I must’ve taped that thing a dozen times.”
“You sounded tired,” Harry admitted.
“Nothing to what I felt.”
Jimmy was a composer, another recent transplant from the South. He mainly supported himself by teaching piano, and he did pretty well at that.
Jimmy’s family thought he was doing fine. “They like my music,” he explained. “But they honestly feel it’s a dream. Right now, I’m making more than any of them ever have, so they think I should just go on, teaching wealthy kids to play badly. They think I’m a big success.”
His family was his mother, two married brothers, and a married sister. Jimmy was the baby. He’d seen his father – and “all those other relatives”-- only once since his parents had divorced, nearly twenty years earlier.
“You miss your dad?” Harry asked.
Jimmy seemed to consider. “No,” he finally said. “I had my brothers growing up. Even when I told everyone I was gay, which wasn’t easy, considering my background, they were fine about it. I was pretty much alone as a kid, always practicing, so I guess they were happy I had any kind of friends.”
Harry laughed.
Jimmy’s biggest disappointment was that he’d never had a relationship, which he really seemed to want. “I’ve been in love a couple of times. I’ve lived with two guys I thought I could spent the rest of my life with. But both times, it only lasted three months.”
He currently lived with his best friend, a guy from his hometown. They were both gay, but had never been lovers. “We’re not each other’s type.”
After talking for an hour, he and Harry arranged to have dinner, late Sunday afternoon. “One last thing,” Jimmy said, before he hung up, “I’m originally from India. We lived there till I was eight-years-old. Jimmy’s my American name.”
“I got that somehow,” Harry said.
“How?”
“I honestly can’t tell you.”
When they met, Harry discovered Jimmy was dark-skinned, but considerably lighter than Ron and much better looking. Harry almost couldn’t stop staring. Jimmy had cropped hair, a perfect skull, perfect face, and he was wearing a suit.
“You come from work?” Harry asked. Jimmy said he occasionally played for parties.
“Nah, I always dress this way. It makes me feel important.”
Harry was in jeans and a golf shirt. “You should’ve...”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jimmy said. “I like the way you look.”
They’d met at Harry’s favorite cheap Chinese restaurant in Northampton. “I’ve passed it a number of times,” Jimmy admitted, “but I’ve never been inside before. It seemed so crummy from the street.”
“The food’s not bad, as long as you choose carefully. And stay out of the men’s room. It’s also the mop closet.”
What Harry liked best about the restaurant was its owners, a young couple. “Harry!” they called, as he came in the door.
After dawdling over dinner, Harry and Jimmy had rambled through town, talking, without any real focus, till after midnight. At some point, Jimmy asked Harry’s age, and Harry told him, easily. Jimmy smiled. “You look younger. People always say that in ads, but I was afraid you were just a kid.”
“It’s the clothes,” Harry said, laughing. “In that suit, you look like my boss.”
Jimmy took that as a compliment..
Throughout the evening, Harry heard himself talking too much, though it wasn’t the usual stories. He’d told many of the familiar ones, but always in reply to things Jimmy had asked. Jimmy had answered questions, freely, but wouldn’t initiate conversation. So Harry had to fill in gaps.
As Jimmy was about to leave, surprised at the hour -- he said he was usually asleep by ten -- he asked to see Harry again. “If you’re really not interested, please tell me,” he insisted. “I’ve had two years of guys politely stalling, trying not to hurt my feelings.”
“I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to see you again,” Harry assured him.
Jimmy smiled and said, “I’ll call you in a day-or-two.”
He called Wednesday. That night, they saw an early movie, a sentimental French epic which Jimmy loved, and then had a dinner. Aware that he stayed up far later than Jimmy, Harry made sure they were done by ten. But before Jimmy left, Harry asked him out for Saturday.
“Sure,” Jimmy agreed.
“Maybe we can explore somewhere,” Harry suggested. “People are always surprised that I haven’t seen much of Europe. But they never seem to explore where they live.”
“That’d be great,” Jimmy said. “It’s all new to me.”
“How long have you been in Massachusetts?”
“Four years, but only a couple in this area. And I don’t drive a lot, except for work.”
“What do you like?” Harry asked.
Jimmy grinned. “You know... Everything.”
That gave Harry almost too broad a range. He considered himself fairly imaginative, but suddenly found that was a partial lie. Trying to find someplace new, he was lost. What wouldn’t seem overly romantic? What wouldn’t push too hard? Museums seemed too easy. Concerts, for Jimmy, maybe too familiar. For good theater, they’d have to go to Hartford or Boston, and Harry didn’t want to stay indoors on a nice summer day . What if they just got in the car and drove? He suggested that to Jimmy on the phone.
“Sounds fine to me.”
“Anywhere in particular?”
“I like old buildings. But you already know that.”
They left early Saturday morning, Harry driving and purposely sticking to two-lane roads. “You get more sense of the country.”
They also drove without music.
“I like this,” Jimmy said, once he got used to it. “I’ve got far too much music in my head.”
They also didn’t always talk.
“I was thinking the other night,” Jimmy told Harry, “that I could be quiet with you.”
“That’s funny,” Harry said. “Through all my years of drafting, I almost always have music on. It helps me keep focused.”
Jimmy laughed, and he probably talked more than he supposed. About his hopes, his training, his roommate’s dating problems.
“Adam gets in his own way so much. He’s too particular. Maybe that’s why we’re friends.”
“How come you never dated him?”
“He doesn’t like dark-haired guys,” Jimmy said, quickly adding, “At least, not in bed.”
“How do you feel about him?”
“I’ve always liked him, and I’ve always thought he’s sexy. But he’s a bottom, and so am I.”
Harry still didn’t think in those terms and often wondered why other guys did. He was always thankful for what Eric had showed him.
Driving north, towards Vermont, Harry and Jimmy stopped for anything interesting. Courthouses. Churches. Old book and furniture stores. At one stop, they walked along a small, boulder-filled stream, Jimmy identifying flowers, in Latin. Harry was amazed he could do that.
“My oldest brother’s a landscaper,” Jimmy explained. “As early as I can remember, when we were riding our bikes, he’d test me. He’d yell, ‘What’s that tree? What’s that flower?’ He claimed it would improve my memory.”
“How did he learn?”
“Aw, he reads all the time.”
“And you don’t think all those Latin names just fill your head?”
Jimmy thought for a moment. “It’s sometimes useful.”
Harry laughed. “Every time I’m groping for something I really need, I realize how much junk I have in my brain. Stuff I could happily live without knowing. For you, it’d be like falling asleep every night humming Beethoven’s Fifth.”
“It could be worse,” Jimmy said, grinning. “Any Vivaldi.”
They had lunch at an old-and-nearly-empty diner. “If you need anything, just look up,” the vintage waitress said. And Jimmy spent part of the meal glancing at the ceiling, then smiling at Harry.
“Okay, it wasn’t that funny,” he admitted, back in the car. But Harry just stared at the car ceiling. They both laughed.
Harry loved driving, and he could have gone on all day. Jimmy seemed happy just to be with him. “You’re right,” he agreed. “Who needs Europe? I can’t believe these places I’ve never seen. And they’re so close.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Harry replied. “Considering how often you’ve been to Europe.”
Jimmy had toured internationally, with both his undergrad and grad school choirs.
“But they rarely gave us free time,” he said. “They were too afraid someone would get pregnant. Of course, being locked in with the guys was never a hardship for me.”
Harry laughed and asked, “How young did you start?” He was mainly kidding, but Jimmy gave him a serious answer.
“Young,” he said. Then he seemed to be thinking.
Harry didn’t push, but Jimmy soon went on. “An uncle of mine used to pay to watch me pee. We didn’t see him very often. Mainly holidays. And he always visited with his wife and kids so was kept pretty busy.”
“You never told your brothers?”
Jimmy laughed. “They knew. He paid them to pee, too. We all thought it was a great way to make money.”
Harry said nothing, and Jimmy continued. “Of course, they never blew Uncle Robert.”
“He made you?”
Harry asked that almost instinctively.
Jimmy laughed again. “Oh, no. He wouldn’t have dared. That was all my idea.”
“How did you even think... I mean, how old were you?”
“I don’t know... Less than twelve... I know I didn’t have pubic hair. And I told you – I was the baby of the family. My older brothers were always talking about sex and about their girlfriends. Scoring. Getting head. Whether it happened or not, they still talked about it. And it sounded like a great idea.”
Harry sighed. “I’ve had such a normal life.”
Jimmy was silent for a minute, then said something curious. “You know, they always talk about child molesters on the news. But they never talk about kids who really want it. I had to blackmail Uncle Robert into putting his dick in my mouth. I told him I’d tell his wife about the peeing. And once he did that, he was so embarrassed, he never came near me again. I was completely disappointed.”
They had dinner at a small seafood place. By that point, Harry had headed east, crossed into New Hampshire, and was near its small coast. The food was fine, though the restaurant was just a bit too busy.
“Where are we?” Jimmy asked over dessert.
“A couple hours from home.”
“We should be starting back.”
And so they did, again staying off the turnpike. Nearing the Quabbin Reservoir, Harry said, “It has an interesting history. Full of corruption. Typically Boston.”
“Typically anywhere,” Jimmy commented. “I should tell you about Atlanta.”
Before he dropped Jimmy off, they stopped at Harry’s apartment. Jimmy had to use the bathroom. “I shouldn’t have had all that iced tea,” he kidded.
“Hope it doesn’t keep you awake.”
“Nah, I live on the stuff. It’s healthier than coffee and cheaper than juice.”
It was after ten, but he didn’t seem ready to leave.
“You play backgammon?” Harry asked.
“You’d murder me. Adam does all the time.”
Instead, Jimmy looked out the window. “Nice gazebo,” he said, admiring Geoff’s craftsmanship. And nice apartment.”
Jimmy hadn’t been to Harry’s apartment before.
“Want me to make some popcorn?” Harry asked. He didn’t keep a lot of snacks in the house.
“It might be more fun if you kissed me.”
That seemed as direct as Jimmy got. And so they kissed for the first time. Playfully. Then they continued doing that for an hour.
“How old were you, when you started?” Jimmy asked at some point.
So Harry told him about Kurt.
“You’re kidding! Only a year ago?”
Jimmy couldn’t stop grinning.
“You make me feel backward,” Harry said.
“No! It’s hot! It’s like finding the Holy Grail!”
And he slipped his hand under Harry’s shirt.
Eventually, they moved into the bedroom, where they slowly undressed each other. They left only Jimmy’s dark bikini shorts and Harry’s paler, more conservative ones. Jimmy’s chest was as smooth as advertised, but the hair on his belly was dark and wiry.
Lying on the bed, Jimmy proved as reactive as he was in conversation. He responded to anything Harry tried but initiated nothing. They mainly held each other, kissing. Finally, Jimmy said, “I think I need to go.”
He was fully aroused, as was Harry. It’s not what Harry expected to happen next.
“Five more minutes,” Harry said. And he reached for the oil.
“You feel wonderful,” Jimmy replied. “But, no... I can’t take another five minutes.”
Harry had never been kicked out of bed before, let alone his own bed, even this politely. He felt a little hurt, but knew if a guy says “No,” he says, “No.”
As Jimmy dressed, he asked, “You don’t think we’re going just a bit too fast?”
“For what?” Harry wasn’t sure.
“I probably shouldn’t have suggested kissing you,” Jimmy went on. “Definitely shouldn’t have undressed. I never should’ve let that happen.” He paused for a moment then quietly added, “You’re not the only guy I’m seeing.”
Harry went from hurt to angry in about a second. He was totally thrown. He hadn’t even thought about that. Then he realized there was no point being mad. Besides, he still had to drive Jimmy home.
“I should’ve told you earlier,” Jimmy continued. “But I was having too much fun.”
Harry spoke slowly and softly, trying to keep himself under control. “You’re the only guy I’m seeing.” Then he made himself add, “I’ve dated a lot this year. Maybe too much. But it’s only been one guy at a time.”
Jimmy nodded.
It was a quiet ride to Jimmy’s house. Harry didn’t feel like talking, and Jimmy possibly wouldn’t. Harry turned on the radio, and they listened to music that probably neither of them wanted to hear.
“I’m sorry,” Jimmy said, after getting out of the car.
They were parked on the street, and Harry had rolled down his window. Jimmy leaned in to kiss him.
“Call me next week?” he asked.
Harry considered. “I don’t think so.”
“I meant to tell you sooner,” Jimmy insisted.
Was it an apology? It didn’t matter.
“Then I’ll call you,” Jimmy went on.
Harry just looked at him. “Please don’t.”
Jimmy returned the look, sadly. “I really like you.”
Harry thought for a moment, then said slowly, “I told you at the beginning... I might even have told you on the phone... I’m looking to get married. It doesn’t have to be today. It doesn’t have to be next year. But I’m that serious.”
And he drove off. He didn’t feel desperate. He didn’t feel depressed. He didn’t even feel like he was pushing too hard. But before he reached home, he pulled over and called Gordon.
“Am I crazy?” he asked. He had to talk to someone, and, fortunately, Gordon stayed up till twelve.
“Tell me about the guy’s body,” Gordon replied.
Harry laughed. “We may as well start there. If we don’t, you’ll always come ‘round to it.”
Gordon laughed, too.
“He sounded hot though.”
“He was. He is. He’s a perfectly nice guy...”
“Then if you’ll just be patient...”
“That’s pretty funny, coming from you.”
“I don’t have to be patient. I’m too old.”
“You’re not old...”
“Then stop by my house on your way home. Hell, just move in...”
“How do I keep doing this to myself?” Harry asked instead. Gordon knew what he was talking about.
“You don’t, really,” Gordon admitted. There were times he could be easily reasonable. “You’ve got a lot of crazy guys helping you out. Me included.”
But he offered nothing further. Maybe he couldn’t. After a moment, Harry said, “Thanks.”
“Not a problem. It’s why I’m here... sometimes...”
Harry waited another moment, then said, “Good night.”
“Yeah. Take it easy.”
“Yeah.”
At home, Harry stood for a moment in his bedroom. The sheets and quilt were still rumpled on the bed. Then he dumped his keys, wallet, and coins on his desk, stripped, and went to the shower
He sat for a long time, letting the warm water run over him. He knew he had to slow down, but still wondered how soon he’d start dating again. And he wondered how many guys he’d meet who’d be too much like Jimmy.