Becoming Real - 6. VI. In Six Hours

VI. In Six Hours

 

I.

Two Steps

 

Three young men played pool. Together they rounded the table glowing green in the reflection of the pendant lamp to take their turns. A new cycle started. Sam’s movement formed part of a ritual, a rhythm in practical grace; no force offered where none was needed, and precision and moderation would sink the ball every time. Bending over the playing field, Sam’s straight sandy hair glowed a sallow brilliance in the lamplight. He slowly drew the cue along the rule of his finger, his eyes focused low across the wooden line and on to the felt. A sudden thrust, a loud crack, and the players were in motion. He lingered a moment more, his eyes following the original line across the room to the guy who had been watching him. Then he pulled his head out of the light and it disappeared into the general darkness of the room. Sam let the cue in his right hand slip, rubber end hitting the floor. The rhythm was slightly broken, messed with by the guy eyeing him so intently. Sam sighed and stood there a second trying to figure out a way to sink another ball, and thinking that he always seemed to be distracted by guys wanting to meet and bed him. He paced, and his lower legs were hidden below the tabletop, giving light the opportunity to fall on his jeans as a chorus of shadows that caressed his curves encased in rippling blue; all for his audience of one. The guy giving him a onceover over wasn’t bad. A moment more, he stepped closer to the table’s edge, and the light followed up his waist to shine in the whiteness of his button-down shirt.

Joshua watched the game. It seemed emblematic of much to him. He would like nothing better than to go over there and join himself to their friendly competition. It seemed casual enough, but he sucked at pool. He sucked at every game where the body had to command the mind to achieve its goal. His newfound confidence flagged before a contest of skills, and he knew it. In the couple of months he’d been out, much had changed with him, but some hadn’t. He thought about the few contacts he’s made since September; they all fizzled away for one reason or another. Here in November, the weather continued to be like a mild summer, and the open windows at his back wafted in a refreshing coolness to the club’s stagnant air. For some reason he saw his mother’s face; remembered a story she’d told him. Back when he was a baby, and his father was still drinking, the man would come home late, and she’d have to walk him up the steps. “One step up,” she’d say. “And two steps down. Over and over I’d have to struggle to keep him moving upwards.” Yeah. That’s how he felt. The guy that merged his worlds of attraction and emotion, Nick – beautiful Nick, turned awkward after a couple of dates, then suddenly announced he was giving his ex a second chance. Could they still be friends? How does Josh feel, Nick asked. ‘One step forward; two steps back.’

Josh sat in the poolroom on the second floor of Magnolia’s. It was cracking on eleven, and most people had wandered down to the dancefloor, or to other clubs. There were around eight guys left in this room with the four pool tables, but only the second table from him had a game on. There was something about the average-built guy with the light hair that worried Josh. It was an odd feeling, one he’d never had before, but it was almost uncontrollably strong. He felt he knew this guy. Not like they’d shaken hands at some point in time, but like he knew the man’s deepest secrets; like he had lived a life with him. He shook his head: ‘nonsense,’ he thought, and stuck his hand in the popcorn bowl.

The rhythm of the game resumed. Sam gave up and ceded his turn to his buddy. He walked back to the fireplace and picked up his beer bottle. A tip back, a sly glance at the young man by the window, and the next player stepped to the table.

A second young man prowled the green field. Billy was, like his two friends, in his early to mid-twenties, but unlike them, he was an African American. He had a slim build, light skin and close-cropped hair. Considering the slenderness of the waist housed below his gray denims, his shoulders were broad, and his poise, formidable. He wore a lightweight sweater in a neutral color, with a tee-shirt underneath, and the sleeves pushed up over the elbows. He found a position and bent into the light, a second later two balls made a crack in the air and one sank confidently into a pocket out of sight. He stood and sought a new position of attack, but it failed, and on his rising, he regarded Josh a moment, considering the tan chinos and dark-brown polo shirt this guy had chosen to wear to an urban club. It made him stick out a little, and not in a good way.

The third of their party strode with jocular confidence and slapped the shoulder of his pal. “Nice try,” Jason said, as his friendly and open demeanor scanned the remaining balls.

To Josh’s eyes this was a Southtown boy. He had a way about him that smelled of honesty, and of a frank disposition that Josh admired. As his intent focus bent beneath the light, Josh saw he was wearing a dark and loose tee-shirt with the logo of some rock band. On this face, a brunette and softly straight peach fuzz mustache, or rather the start of one, rode the tides of his happy moods. His hair was the same brunette, fairly short and naturally parted without the aid of any ‘product.’ This boy’s step was springy as he investigated different shot possibilities, and his slender waist and putty-colored and worn Levi corduroys bobbed against the horizon of the pool table.

Jason found a spot, sunk a shot and continued to do so, for he was the best player of the three. He stood and mimed an apology for his buddies; the still-adolescent mustache glinting beneath the sparkle from his eyes.

Billy couldn’t stand the suspense anymore. He could tell Josh was all right – not a loony – so he began the necessary moves needed to ‘casually’ go over to him. First he propped his cue against the mantel and picked up his beer with a raised eyebrow for Sam. Then he strolled the path between the end of the pool table and the exposed brick wall towards the windows. His focus remained on the popcorn bowl by the stranger’s side. He sat down across from Josh with his back also against the window; he didn’t want to block the guy’s view of Sam.

“How’s the popcorn?” Billy asked. The other turned his big blue and restless eyes on Billy, and Billy was caught off guard. ‘Don’t they say, the they’re the windows of the soul . . . ’

Josh half-smiled and held out the bowl to the newcomer. “Try. It’s good, considering it’s ‘free.’”

Billy also grinned, his left hand went up to his forehead, his right into the bowl. A kernel or two of silence followed. “Billy.”

“I’m Joshua.”

They shook hands and Josh was surprised at how confident Billy’s touch was against his. “You seem to be a pretty good pool player.”

“Nah – Jason over there, he’s a lot better.” Billy gestured to the boy with the peach fuzz.

Jason, hearing his name, fumbled his shot. He came to stand at the end of the table. The cue in his hand struck the floor as his hand held it away from his body. His free hand landed akimbo on his hip, and he playfully scowled towards Billy and Josh. “Thanks, guys. Just go ahead and break my concentration anytime you want.” Jason turned a wicked leer and nod on Sam. “You’re up.”

Josh leaned over the table for a confidence. “How long have you and Jason been together?”

Billy guffawed, his hand rubbing his forehead. “We’re not a couple; just friends.”

Josh’s heart had an unreasonable sinking. “You’re with the other guy?”

Billy laughed. “With Sam? No, we’re all just friends.”

Josh heard the light-haired boy’s name for the first time. He thought ‘Of course – Sam – what a great name. Sam; what else could he be?’ He let slip, “I’m sorry.”

Billy momentarily knitted his eyebrows. “What?”

“I’m sorry. I mean, I thought you guys were . . . I mean, the way you act around each other . . . so open and . . . I know it sounds corny, but so carefree.”

Billy narrowed his eyes. Josh was not the typical bar specimen. “You like him don’t you?”

Josh said helplessly, “Sam?”

Billy chuckled, tapping the top of Josh’s hand to pry his eyes off of Sam. “Yeah, who else?”

The eyes Joshua turned on Billy were utterly honest and miserable. “Is he a good guy? He seems so special . . . to me at least.”

Billy thought, ‘You’re the special one,’ but he said, “Play the next game with us and find out for yourself.”

“No thanks.”

“Ah, come on. Why not?”

“Because I’m no good at it.”

“Relax. No one’s going to judge your pool playing abilities.”

“No thanks.” Josh’s retort was cool and concise. He didn’t like to be pressed, even if it jeopardized his making and keeping new friends.

“Well, if you want to, Josh, you’re more than welcome.” There was warmth in Billy’s tone that crashed against Josh’s curtness as a powerfully subtle rebuke.

Joshua blinked. Though not his ‘type,’ there was something special about Billy too. His mind felt a pang of affinity for this guy; something yet undefined. For the first time he noticed that Billy’s eyes were not brown, as he had thought, but a dark and intriguing hazel.

Both glanced up to find Sam suddenly standing there. As his hand went to the popcorn, he said to Billy, “You’re up.”

Billy’s features opened broadly, and he gestured to his vacated seat. “Josh, Sam. Sam, Joshua.” And he walked back to his cue.

Sam looked Josh over tentatively; he was better than he thought. “Did Billy extend an invitation? You should join us next game.”

Josh stiffened. Again, he felt the same pressure, but tried to control his response. “Billy did, and quite frankly, I’d only slow the game down. I need a lot of practice to get as good as you guys.”

Sam shrugged, his hand going about a foot above his bent back head. He dropped popcorn into his mouth. “Suit yourself,” he said chewing.

“Where are you from, Sam?”

Sam found this too forward. “South County.” He did not return the question.

“What do you do?”

“Right now, construction.”

Josh admired Sam’s arms rippling beneath his cotton shirt – construction, that made sense. Through all the bullshit awkwardness, Josh felt more than ever that he and Sam had some longstanding connection. Again, he desperately tried to control his tone, which even he could tell made him sound creepy. “Have we met before?”

Sam studied him, thinking about a getaway. “Like – where?”

“You ever go out to Duchesne University? That’s where I go to school.”

“Nope.”

“We met at Angles?”

Sam pursed his lips, his fair hair shaking in the light from the streetlight outside. “I’d probably remember”—he stood up—“join us, if you want,” he said, walking away.

Joshua, watching his retreating form, thought he might as well be watching a corpse slip below the waves. Such felt the goodbye to one he had barely even met. He thought he should go, not that home had any appeal to him, but he needed to get away from everything real for a while, and forget, maybe especially forget that he was ‘gay.’

At the pool table, Billy made a couple of easy balls seem pained, missing a third as he examined the near tear-filled eyes of Josh, so close and seemingly so far away. He sank the cue ball.

Billy slunk back onto the stool across the narrow table. “Why do you like him so much?”

Josh thought he was going to cry, but he sighed instead. “I have no idea. In one word: connection.”

Billy’s eyes grew suspicious scanning Josh’s features, but he saw only sincerity there. “Yes, he’s very handsome.”

“Handsome, yes, but if he looked like Donald Duck, I’d still feel the same way – I’m sorry! I don’t know what I’m saying . . . . ”

“Sounds like the truth to me.”

“Yeah. It’s the truth.”

They watched as a man in his forties brought a beer to Sam and then together leaned with him on the mantel in friendly conversation. The game was over. Jason sank all the balls, then he confidently walked up to Billy and Joshua, cue still in hand.

“I’m Jason.” He held out his hand to Josh.

“Joshua. Nice to meet you.” They shook and Josh got a good eyeful of just how cute Jason’s mustache really was. ‘Must tickle,’ he thought, suppressing a chuckle.

“Join us in the next game?” Jason belted it out more as an ultimatum than a question.

Billy stepped in. “He’s not the poolhall type. Some aren’t, you know.”

“So you watch PBS, huh, Josh?” Jason beamed warmth.

Josh relaxed a bit, joking, “I’m sure you watched Die Zauberflöte live from Lincoln Center just as me? Opera queen?”

Jason, reaching for popcorn, said, “Yeah sure – ziber-flute-a – yeah. Mozart, see?” And he laughed.

“I could tell a fellow traveler anywhere.” Josh was momentarily his old self.

Billy thought Josh was a different person when he relaxed. He asked, “Josh, do you come here often?”

Josh cracked his patented ironic expression. “Recently. I prefer the laidback vibe of Magnolia’s to the crush and dancing of Angles.”

Billy reached to smack the forearm of Jason. “I hardly get to go out, but when Jason calls, we go out.” He leaned in to Josh, as if Jason was not supposed to hear. “See, he’s attached; spends most weekends with the hubby.”

Joshua suddenly noticed a gold band, much too big for Jason, on the young man’s slender finger.

With authority, Billy told Jason, “Go get Sam. We’re gonna play darts!”

As Jason spun around and hailed Sam in a loud voice, Billy stood, and – without a single question – took Josh by the wrist. He lifted him to his feet and pulled him across the neighboring bar and into the darts room.

Billy left him standing there by the windows as he gathered the darts off the board. Soon a laughing Jason and Sam came through the doorway. Sam dropped his grin the instant he saw Joshua was among them.

Jason suddenly stopped and admired Josh’s face, much to Josh’s surprise. His mustache and brows tensed in concentration as he said, “Yeah – that’s who you look like.” Then he said to Sam, “Matt Dillon, don’t you think?”

Sam pursed his lips. He too examined Josh’s face in the new light. Nodding, he added, “Yeah, a young Matt Dillon.”

Josh’s mouth went slack. ‘Were they kidding?’

Billy came up with the darts. “Yeah – I can see that.”

It is amazing what a compliment can do – one step forward – and Josh suddenly felt that Jason, Billy and maybe even Sam, were concerned about inviting him into their intimacy. “Well, I personally don’t see it . . . ” he said.

Billy started the game while the other three sat on the cherry-red vinyl upholstered bench that ran the length of the room in front of the windows. Josh felt a bit of hope resurfacing as he watched Billy toss and get a good score. Here was his chance to take a new step towards the enigma that was Sam. But for now, a smiling Jason sat between them.

Jason asked Josh, “West County boy, right?”

This put Josh at ease. “Southtown boy, right?”

“What else, kid!”

“You know Nick? Guy with spiky blond hair? Built like a jock.”

Sam perked up. “You know Nick?”

“Yeah. We were kinda dating, but he’s back with his ex now.”

Unknowingly to Josh, his estimation in Sam’s eyes had suddenly skyrocketed. Sam said, “I like Nick. He’s a riot.”

“Tell me about it! He’s a great guy.”

Billy was done. Sam stood and retrieved the darts, then came back and struck a throwing pose right in front of Josh’s admiring eyes.

Suddenly Josh felt safe. He picked up Jason’s right hand and immediately felt and twisted the plain gold band on his ring finger. He smiled and nodded, saying, “Congratulations. Really, man, congrats.”

“Well, I see Billy’s big mouth has been at it again, but”—a helpless beam reigned as he momentarily grabbed on to Josh’s touching grasp—“thanks.” They let go of each other.

Sam came back and bent down to see the ring, the game forgotten. “So, how long’s it been?”

“He asked me a couple of months ago.”

“A couple of months . . . ?” Josh knew there was more.

Jason’s face, with its little immature mustache, tried to contain his excitement, but then it gave up and grinned ear to ear. “Well, three months ago, five days”—he did a quick glance at Josh’s watch—“nine hours, and three thousand kisses ago.”

A shadow passed across Sam’s face hovering above Josh and Jason. “How did you know John was the one – the one guy you wanted to spend the rest of your life with? I mean, how does a person come to such a big decision?” Unaccountably, Sam’s gaze lingered on Josh.

“I don’t know—” Jason started, then stopped. “Yes, I do. There’s no opening of the heavens, no choir of angels, none of that crap; just a slow realization that he’s the one. He’s the one who makes you feel most like yourself, and yet part of something bigger.” The young man suddenly laughed and screeched, “Hallmark moment! But, really”—he regained himself—“he’s the one who makes you complete, the one you never get tired of being with, not that you have to be with him 24/7, but just never tire of being with him. The one whose strength you can lean on when you don’t have any more of your own; when you don’t have any more . . . just . . . I don’t know. But when you feel it, when you have it, you’ll know.” His demeanor turned matter of fact.

Billy asked, “So where’s Hubby tonight?”

“That’s hubby-to-be, mind you, and he’s downstairs dancing.”

Josh asked, “How long have you guys been together?”

“I met John about eighteen months ago—”

Billy interjected. “Eighteen months, five days and thirty-five ass slaps ago—” Jason’s hand flew across Josh’s chest to smack Billy. Billy pulled up his legs in defense and grabbed on to Josh’s arm for balance. The three laughed as Sam loomed in some kind of reverie over the sitting guys. Suddenly he remembered what was in his hand. He bounced the darts and went back to throwing them.

Josh said in quiet awe, “So, you guys gonna have a big ceremony?”

“In the spring, and we hope our families will be there.”

Sam had finished. He plopped down on the other side of him and slapped Jason’s thigh. “You’re up, bride-to-be.”

Jason sprang to his feet and walked backwards to the wall with the darts. To Sam he rocked his shoulders and sniped, “Jealousy – So unbecoming in blonds.”

Josh asked Sam, “Do your parents know . . . ?”

“They suspect. I guess like Jason here, they’ll know when the time is right.”

“You out?”

Josh sighed. “I don’t know what my dad would do. It wouldn’t be pretty.” A moment of sympathy flowed between Sam and Josh; they had some more common ground.

Billy asked Josh, “You come from a big family?”

Confident dart-strikes reverberated in the silence awaiting the guy’s answer.

“No,” Josh said.

“Uncles; aunts?”

“No. Well, my dad had a kid brother, Clarence, who was Gay – I remember him pretty well. A couple of times a year during holidays we’d visit, and he died when I was ten. I remember his partner well, but after the funeral, my dad acted like he wasn’t family. Would never see him again or let him come to the house.” He glanced over to Billy. “It must have been hard on my dad that Clarence was Gay, but after a while, there was nothing he could do about it.” There was an odd accord written on Billy’s handsomely stoic features, like a mirror of sorts. It was not one meant to reflect the appearance of identity, but of the inner and only vaguely recognizable true self. Josh involuntarily swallowed. “And you?”

Billy attempted good humor. “I’ve just got three older brothers. I was the baby.”

Sam asked, “No brothers or sisters?”

“No. I’m an only child.”

Jason called back to the guys while aiming. “It’s okay, you can have my sister.”

As Sam joked that anyone could have his sister, Josh suddenly forgot there was anyone else in the room, so focused he became on Billy’s faceted sadness. “And do your folks know?”

Jason came back with arms akimbo; he waved for Josh to get to his feet. “Your turn!”

Josh hemmed and hawed. “I’m no good at this.”

“I’ll help you—” And Jason pulled Joshua up, compelling him to the dartboard. As Josh plucked off the darts – his eyes less than a foot from the bull’s-eye – he re-envisioned Billy’s sad demeanor, but he didn’t know why. Dreading the walk back, he caught sight of Jason reclining on the bench with his legs kicked far out in front of him. His hands were behind his head, and he offered warm encouragement. “Try,” he said.

Josh returned his attention to the board, raised his arm and leveled a dart at it. He let loose, and it barely made it to the wall, striking two feet below the target.

Jason leaped to his feet. “You throw like a girl! Damn, boy – you are no good at this.”

Josh wanted to die, but in the next second, Jason was next to him. He took a dart and showed him how to make a proper stance, foot back, shoulders relaxed.

“Like this.” Jason motioned in demonstration. “Aim with the dart at eyelevel, and when you throw, don’t follow through with the swing too much. Just let it sail from your grip . . . when it gets to about here.” Jason placed a reassuring hand on Josh’s shoulder, and with the other, returned the dart. “Now – you try.”

Josh’s mind was a nervous knot of the information Jason had just passed along. He aimed, as shown, threw, and tried to release properly. The dart just managed to hit the outside rim of the board.

“See?!” Jason slapped his back. “You’re better already!”

Josh could only think, ‘John is a lucky man.’ Then he bungled through the rest of the set and breathed easier as he turned around. In an unprepared for flash, he saw Sam – sitting and leaning down with his hands together out in front of his knees, elbows on his thighs – and was retaken all over again with the feeling of knowing him, but then, scanning farther, he perceived Billy’s allure. Something in Josh reached to something he couldn’t see in Billy, a dark something he didn’t even have a concrete conception of.

Sitting again, and Sam up for the second round, Josh continued with his last question for Billy. “Are you out to your parents?”

“I told them when I was seventeen.”

“What happened?”

Billy chuckled inanely. “They threw me out. Out of their house, and told me to do whatever I wanted as long as it wasn’t near them.” Billy drew in a sigh and tried to laugh about it. “I can still see it. There I was standing in the front yard. All the lights were on in the house, and I watched my mom stomp from room to room, cursing at the top of her lungs. Then she went to my room, slammed my window open so she could throw my stuff out on to the grass. And there I was trying to catch the incoming, pulling my clothes from the planter dirt and praying she’d throw a suitcase. And all the while, I was the one worrying what the neighbors would think. Fuckin’ messed up.” Billy shook his head from side to side. “My whole life had just ended, because I finally got the guts, for once in my life, to be honest, and the only thing I could think about was what other people thought.”

‘One step up,’ Josh thought. ‘Two steps down.’

Sam had risen to stand in the doorway. When Josh glanced at him, Sam smiled. The game of darts was forgotten.

Billy asked Jason, “You’re going to tell your folks soon, but do you think they know already?”

“I think my sister knows.” His peach fuzz grew serious.

“How come?” Joshua asked.

“I assume she went through my stuff one day and found, well, found something she wasn’t supposed to see.”

Sam hooted.

“No”—Jason kiboshed Sam’s snicker—“nothing like that. Get your blondie head out of the gutter. No, she found a picture of me and John. He had his arms around my waist and his head on my shoulder.”

Josh muttered to himself, “Pure innocence . . . . ”

Jason picked up on it. “Maybe for us. But anyway, now she’s saying all the time ‘Got any new girlfriends? Hope Mom don’t hear any bad news.’ And I say ‘What kind of bad news?’ And she says ‘Oh, I don’t know, something that’d kill her, if she ever found out.’ So now the harpy’s trying to blackmail me, but the joke’s on her. If she even threatened to tell them, I’d simply get to ‘em first.” Jason threw up his hands, the flippancy of the movement contrasting with the nervous jag of his tone. “I don’t care anymore. I won’t be living there for much longer.”

Sam straightened up and thrust his hands in his pockets. “Okay, guys, I’m not feeling this room any longer. Who’s with me to go down to the dancefloor?” Josh’s heart sank. Was Sam leaving? He’d gotten exactly nowhere with him. He looked to Jason, then to Billy, but maybe getting anywhere with Sam would have been his ‘two steps back.’ As he was thinking this, Sam startled the hell out of him.

“Josh? You want to join me?”

A weight like lead shot poured into his stomach. He wasn’t sure he had heard right, but he saw instant confirmation on the faces of Jason and Billy. Then his gaze lingered on Billy, and he knew what he wanted to do.

“No. Thanks, Sam. I think I’ll stay here.” He saw the impact of his decision on Sam’s face, and was moved, again like he knew him.

Sam shrugged. “Suit yourself. Jason?”

“I’ll be down in a bit,” Jason said.

Dejected, Sam exited.

By the time it took Sam to leave, and Jason to turn back to them, Josh and Billy had started holding hands. Jason blinked, thinking he was dumb, a third-wheel, and then began to make his parting.

Jason stammered out, “Thinking of John, maybe I better go with Sam.” He stood, a hand going behind his head, which was still locked on the linked palms of the other two. “You know, it’s not that I don’t trust John, but come on, we’re talking about Sam here, and no man’s made of stone – unless he’s standing next to Sam!”

The others only let sly grins raise the corner of their mouths.

Jason persisted. “Get it? Stone, next to Sam – as in rock hard!”

Billy chuckled. “Yeah, Jason, we got it. We just didn’t know we were obliged to laugh.”

From the doorway, Jason and his immature mustache offered, “Well, see you guys down there – or not.” And with a faintly lingering and wistful glance, he was gone.

 

 

II.

The Sun Card

 

An hour rolled by in blissful oblivion. Downstairs, as the hour commenced, Jason had found and pushed his way out to John and Sam, who, with raised arms and throbbing hands punching the air, danced in soothing abandon. Now, the sweat pouring off Jason’s neck and soaking his dark tee-shirt, caused John to bend over him, and with a long kiss, lift that shirt free and away from his loved one’s body. John then deftly tucked the shirttail end of it into Jason’s corduroy waistband, just at the small of his back, to flap and dry behind him – and to pat the backside he found there once or twice. Jason threw his arms around John’s neck, and as the sweaty and bare outer coverings of their in-sync hearts met, they and all the crowd around them continued to reverberate with the sustained and synchronized heartbeat of the music. Jason pulled his fiancé down into a prolonged and carefree kiss. John, loving the feel of peach fuzz, sensed that like the clouds bussing the sun on a perfect summer’s day, all the eyes around them turned wan and longing to bask in that kiss’ warmth.

In the same hour upstairs, Joshua and Billy quietly opened to each other as a softly white magnolia might in the still of first light – its blossoming petals unfolding large, one by one, in slow revealings of the tender and most vulnerable center that was formerly hidden.

“It scares me to think what might happen if I told my parents,” Josh admitted as he sat, his thigh fully aligned against Billy’s warm and receiving counterpart. “You haven’t had anything to do with yours since they kicked you out?” He played with Billy’s fingers laying palm-up in his lap.

“No,” Billy reassured him. “It’s not that bad. After the ‘lawn’ incident, I spent some time with friends, but eventually I ran out of them, and of money, so I went west. Spent three months hitchhiking to San Francisco, but I don’t know why. I got there and starved.” Billy paused. He extracted his hand. His moment of truth had arrived; the moment he would scare off this suburban kid. Or – or, he couldn’t think that far ahead. “Until I found out I had a commodity that could bring in some cash. Probably didn’t think of me as a former hustler, did you?”

Joshua paused. No, he hadn’t thought of Billy as hardscrabble and doing what he needed to do to survive, but now he did.

“Don’t worry,” Billy advised. “I’m clean. All tests, negative.”

“I wasn’t thinking about that—”

“What then?” Billy interrupted.

“How I feel, you know, that you’ve been through a lot. You are kind of my hero, because, I don’t know that I’d be strong enough to go through any of it.”

Billy swallowed hard. No one was ever this straightforward with him. He collected his thoughts with a deep inhalation of air. “Oh, don’t count yourself out. In the heat of the moment when you need to be strong, you will be. Being out means we’ve already tapped into all the strength we’ll need for the rest of our lives.”

Joshua nodded his head. He found within himself a like for Billy that was more tender than the word ‘admire’ could ever allow. He laid his hand on Billy’s thigh, and pressed his fingers together slightly. The firm but giving flesh was like Billy as an absolute – giving and hard. Josh smiled. He shrugged. “Your experiences are what they are. If I like you, it’s because you are what the sum of your struggles and triumphs have made you.” Josh swallowed audibly. “Can I?” He motioned for Billy’s fingers.

A quivering tremor passed over Billy’s lips. In another instant, it was gone, replaced by some kind of nascent expression of happiness. He slowly inserted his digits into Josh’s waiting ones, keeping his gaze on the young man’s eyes. It was hard for Billy, like he was turning himself over for some unspecified manipulation. He said, “But, I don’t want to think about any of that. I’d rather remember Jenny Rothenberg – great name, right? – she got me into the same flea-trap hotel in the Tenderloin she was living at, and turned me on to Marx and Plato. I remember sometimes we’d read out loud the whole night, just talking about ‘the people’s time’ to come, and what Aristophanes really meant when he talked about two men loving one another being divine.” He sighed. “I miss her.”

“What happened?”

“She went back to her parent’s house in Portland. She wasn’t thrown out, just a runaway, and she finally got tired of living in squalor while the whole time she knew she could pick up everything and go back to her old life. My old life was gone, so she told me, and wanted us to stay together, have kids and a house, but I told her, I really am Gay – you can’t change me, not if God made me such. If he’s powerless, what do you think you could do about it?” Billy tightly grasped Josh’s hand; it hurt. “She broke my heart. She went all conventional on me, and made me out to be the bad guy. Isn’t that exactly what society does to us our whole life? Our life up till we break out, and have something to say that’s truthful? There’s no going back.”

Josh leaned over, pulled Billy’s arm by the hand and hugged him. It was a brief hug, an embrace of shared pain, no more, but it needed to be no more than that.

Billy pushed back a bit and smirked awkwardly. “I’m sorry, man. Too much of a bummer.”

“It’s all right. It’s how you feel.”

Billy shook himself as if awaking from a dream. He pulled away, leaned back and kicked his legs out. His hands locked behind his head. “Anyway, believe it or not, I was talking about my parents. After Jen went back home, I didn’t have anything in San Francisco, so I called my parents”—he laughed—“collect, and had to say the hardest thing ever: that If they loved me all the time I was growing up, then they loved me for what I was. So, what was the difference now? Now, they could love me for real, because they knew what they were doing. I asked them if I could come home, and my mom – the same woman who called me a ‘disgusting f*gg*t’ at the top of her lungs – whispered through the receiver ‘Come on home, son.’ So I came back, found a bookshop job, and now I’m rocketing to the top.” Billy made a sarcastic movement with his thumb pointing to the floor. “But at least, it keeps me in lots of reading material, and that suits me fine.”

“I love reading too. Now I’ll know where to shop!”

Billy laughed. “If that’s a come-on, it sucks!”

“You’re right.” Josh laughed too. “If that were a come-on, it’d suck.”

Billy grew completely serious. “If I ask you something, and you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay – but if you answer, tell me you’ll answer truthfully.”

Josh’s head bobbled. “How about the question first . . . ? But, okay. If I answer, it will be what I really think.”

"Why are you so taken with Sam?"

Joshua cocked his head. He whispered, “Fuck . . . ” He had to stand for this one. “Yeah, so – I haven’t been out for long, only since September, and I’ve got all these strong attractions to deal with and think I can handle – but tonight was different. Sam moved me. You wanted me to sound dumb, so here goes.” Josh paced for the now-alert and forward-leaning Billy. “It’s because I know him. I’ve never met him, but I know him.” He shook his head. “You’ll really think I’m off my rocker, but it’s like we’ve lived a life together before. Like, I know what makes him laugh, I know what food he loves, how to tickle him, what drives him insane, and all that shit . . . ” He held his hands before his lips, tapped them there, like the straight-sided Dürer hands in prayer. He half-pleaded for understanding. “Like we’ve lived a life together – I don’t know how else to explain it.”

Billy resumed leaning back with his hands behind his head. “It’s not weird; it’s not even special. I think we’ve all got connections: past lives, or future ones, or might-have-beens; but the special part is meeting a person both open enough to feel it, and ‘dumb’ enough to admit it.”

As Joshua studied the near-jovial expression lighting Billy’s face, he thought he had never met anyone like this young man before. His hazel eyes glinted in soul-grounded mirth, while his unassuming features never appeared more ethereal. The sweater he wore could do nothing but accent the lithe body it clothed, while sticking out of the pushed up cuffs were about the sexist pair of arms and matching hands Josh thought he had ever seen. That very second, a flash of wonder at the nature of ‘attraction’ struck him. Lightning-like, remembrances of Nick, of Sam – of any of the hot jocks he ever considered his ‘type’ – seemed to burn brightest for a moment, like a bulb the instant before it breaks its filament. And then, they faded before the beauty of the slender African American before him now.

Josh regarded the ceiling. The light in the room flashed on and off. He glanced at his watch: two o’clock, the bar was closing. Unknowingly he bit his lip; he didn’t want the night to end. “Do you like music?” he said kind of desperately.

The question was so broad, Billy had to laugh. “Yeah. Like, what?”

"I just got a Paul Simon album today. You want to listen to it? I mean, I have it out in the car. We could drive around and listen to it – if you want.”

Billy stood and walked to Josh’s flank. He raised one side of his mouth. “If that’s a come-on, it sucks.”

Now Josh chuckled a laugh that threatened to cry. “You’re the one told me to speak the truth. Truth is, I’m not ready to part with you yet.”

Billy pursed his lips as if considering it. “Funny. Me neither.”

           

˚˚˚˚˚

 

Not many cemeteries are located on the top of a hill, but Josh knew of one. The ancient cut of the river gouged out the soft sandstone into tremendous bluffs that once served as the riverbanks carrying the melted Ice Age to the sea. At certain vantages, vistas cleared of trees and opened up below into the endless lights of city and suburbs. On nights like this with a new moon, the sky, and the dark landscape below the level of the ground, competed for the fairest show of sparkle and wonder. Josh’s car was like a brooding lifeboat all alone on the South Pacific; the sky reflecting the water, the water the sky, and in the mode of conveyance the lowly survivors watched helplessly, and were not quite sure which way was truly up – the abyss above, or the one below.

Billy and Josh lay on top of a mover’s blanket spread over the hood and windshield of Josh’s car. Joshua had known about this quietly spectacular spot in the County since his high school friend had shown it to him a few years ago. The car was parked at the edge of the old iron gate protecting the blessèd precinct, and by getting on the hood, they could see over all the tombstones, which, with the light coming from behind, resembled murky voids. The city lights stretched to the horizon away from their wheeled lifeboat on three open sides. This late in the night, the Milky Way arced rakishly across the western end of the sky and slowly threatened to retreat, lest the sun get a chance to melt it off from the east. The air was warm, and a gentle stillness pervaded where insect song had recently ripped it into incessant rhythm. Now, only the soft conversation of the young men lilted over the nightscape.

They lay side by side, like twins; legs outstretched and crossed with heel over ankle, arms raised, and bent elbows locking hands behind respective heads. There was a good ‘Sunday school’ distance between them, but as the conversation warmed, there was a steady inching together, barely perceivable, but committed to by both. In slow degrees they wanted to test if the intimacy they had so easily assumed in the second-floor darts room would bear the fresh air of the open and exposed ‘real world.’

Josh started to hum a tune. He didn’t pay it any attention. “It must have been great to live in San Francisco. It seems so great there.”

Billy thought about it a second. “Some of it’s great, but it’s not what it’s supposed to be. The Gay neighborhood, the Castro, is just a few blocks, and most of the shops are alike, offering cheap crap – rainbow key chains, greeting cards with pictures of drag queens, and window after window of clothes that are all alike. I missed home, where the people are real, and the Gays diverse. I mean, consider us tonight – Jason and Sam, and you and me, we all looked totally different; we don’t match; we don’t pretend to be anything other than what we are. In my opinion, I’m glad we’re here. It’s our job to make this place better by staying, and not ghettoizing ourselves by the Bay.” Billy thought he’d gotten too heated, so he searched for a conventional comment to restore balance. “But hey, this spot is great. It’s really beautiful here.”

“Yeah. I like to come here when I have to think about stuff. And once, I brought my friend from school here, Meg. Tonight reminds me of that.” A few notes leaked out of the tune bouncing in his head. “It was after she and her sister, and my friend Helen, went to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Weird thing is, she knew about me being Gay even then. While Helen and May were getting the tickets, Meg and I stayed in line, and she told me: ‘You should go out with me and my Gay friends some night.’ I couldn’t say anything – I wasn’t ready, and she saw that.” Josh lowered the arm closest to Billy’s side. He scooted imperceptibly towards him. “Before the movie started, a preview for My Beautiful Laundrette played. Two guys kiss in it, and the theater erupted in a mixture of cheers and catcalls, and I thought to myself – ‘Is that who I am?’ I never saw two guys kissing before that, can you believe it? It was like seeing a sunrise for the first time – I mean, yeah, I saw guys fake-kiss on SNL and shows like that, but on that big screen, it was clear as day, these guys were kissing like they meant it; like the whole world depended on it.” Josh’s hand reached out and struck Billy’s thigh in good humor. He laughed self-consciously. “I know that makes no sense.”

Billy struck Josh’s thigh in return. “It makes sense. I know.” Internally Billy was swallowing down his discomfort, because he did know, and maybe many others would not understand Josh as he did. “So your friend, Meg, is sensitive?”

“Yes, in fact, she told me after we left the cemetery that this place made her uncomfortable. Too much energy; too many emotions, she said. I guess I owe my life to her, ‘cause she helped me come to a crisis recently – helped me come out.”

“How?” Billy’s hand came down and lingered on Josh’s leg. He decreased the space between them.

“I don’t think she intended it, because she had a lot on her plate to deal with, but she gave me a Tarot card reading. At first, those in the room who know about these things said my cards laid out in front of me was ‘a love reading.’ But in detail, there were many bad things. Meg said I was blocked – hidden. If I solved what was blocking my path forward, then the ‘Sun Card’ was my future.” His hand came down on top of Billy’s, and stayed there. “You know what the Sun Card means?”

“No—”

“It means rebirth.”

“You’re saying you came out because of a Tarot reading?”

“Not exactly – it’s just that the cards toppled down on me like the straw breaking the camel’s back. It was time, and Meg, wanting to or not, gave me the final push.” Josh’s mood suddenly darkened. He propped himself up on an elbow and rolled to face Billy. “You ever had a girlfriend?”

He sounded incredulous. “Me? No—”

“Good. It ain’t right. In high school I had one. I guess she got smart and dumped me. It hurt at the time. Then in my first year of college, I dated this sweet girl who was really into me, at a time I was not into myself at all.” Josh sighed; he cast his attention down and played with the nap of Billy’s sweater. “I can’t tell you, but—” He had to choke down something in his throat. “The way she made me feel, it broke my heart. I can’t . . . . It actually seems like a lifetime ago – I was so stupid, but I thought about sticking with it. Marry her, give her a house and kids and what I thought she needed for a ‘happy life,’ and not be ‘gay.’ Stupid, stupid – then I had to do the right thing, which I know she didn’t understand, and break it off. I really hurt her, and she deserved so much better; she deserved love, just like the rest of us.”

Billy picked up the fingers frantically depilling on his chest. He held them in forced stillness a moment; forced Josh to hold his gaze.

Josh was able to say, “I felt so artificial – that whatever thing beat in my chest, it was made of plastic, and I wasn’t a real person at all; was never going to be real.”

“But you didn’t come out then, your first year of college?”

“No – there was no end to my dumb ways, because – from the moment I saw Christina’s crushed face, I vowed to never deceive anyone but myself ever again. I saw my life spread out before my cold lifeless eyes – a life without love; a life unlived with anyone. That was the wicked spell broken by Meg and her cards.”

Billy spread his arm flat under Josh’s head. He pushed on the boy, forcing him to recline and rest, while he propped himself up, and placed one leg on top of Joshua’s. “So, Meg’s words about the Sun Card and its significance; your ambivalence about love versus a guarded heart couldn’t stay in balance anymore – you came out because you had to be true, to the truth.”

Josh never felt he could make himself understood, and here the young man with the serious features looming so near to him, seemed to summarize him perfectly. He blinked several times, raising his hand to touch Billy’s temple at the hairline. “You understand.” For no apparent reason, the tune reasserted itself from earlier. He heard it in his head and part of him hummed along. He knew what it was now. “You like poetry?”

Billy’s eyes grew into slits, the corners of his mouth drawing up into mirthful peevishness. “Nobody ever asks me that. Yeah, I love poetry.”

“Do you know what this is from:

 

“Oh thou, my lovely boy, who in power

Holds time’s fickle glass, and his sickle’s hour.”

 

“Shakespeare,” Billy said triumphantly. “Imagine all the gallons of ink spilled to reassure straights that a man like that – who dedicated a hundred and fifty-four of the world’s most intense love poems to a man, his man – wasn’t queer after all. No wonder no one wants to be ‘gay,’ they try to keep from us Gays what it really means, and say it never existed before we became so irrational and tried to force our coming out down their throats.”

“Shakespeare, one of many – one of most, really. It’s the straight poet who’s the true rarity. Do you write?”

“How did you guess?” Billy’s hand bent to Josh’s brow. He touched him the way he often did his own forehead.

“It seems you would.”

“Yes, I write; mainly pieces that some would call poems – Jen did. They can be long, but without plot or such. I write because it’s therapy for me; cathartic. Why do you write?”

Josh frowned helplessly. “How did you know I write?”

“Your eyes.” And Billy scanned the big baby-blues that grew even bigger under his watching.

Josh laughed, poked Billy, not knowing that the other was dead serious. “I write”—Joshua paused—“because it’s an act of forgetting for me; to write is to deal with it. For me, to write is to live.” Josh sighed a tiny breath. He could not recall a time before when he was confident that the person he was speaking to would understand him without doubt or question. His hand went behind the back of Billy’s head. He rose up to sit and face him as an equal. “Recite me something you wrote.”

“I can’t . . . . ”

“Bullshit. I’m the one said writing is an act or forgetting; for you, remembering. So recite.”

Billy thought a moment, his attention drifting over the twinkling cityscape, then to the crest of the Milky Way piercing the far horizon.

 

“In a flash, or a day.

In a flash, or a lifetime.

Love must build on a spark –

One to consume us

In a sustained fire.”

 

“Now, you.”

Josh inhaled slowly, letting out, “This is one I wrote for a boy in my college math class:

 

“See them there,

The countless numbers

An errant code and retelling

Of figures new and old,

And you – you pass me a note:

‘Hi,’ it said. ‘I’m Ross.’

 

“And for me there,

Stymied by numbers

Counting my heartbeats retelling

Of hopes new and old,

And you – you pass me a smile:

‘Hi,’ it said. ‘I’m yours.’”

 

Billy kicked back to lean on his hands, startled. He didn’t try to control the intensity of the face he flashed on Josh. “Are you kidding? That poem was fuckin’ fantastic!”

“Really?”

“You know it’s good – right?”

Joshua swallowed hard. No, he didn’t know; no one had ever heard or read it before. “I’m . . . I’m glad you like it.”

Billy grinned ear-to-ear. “And who . . . is Ross?”

Josh ventured to lay the back of his in Billy’s lap, palm open. “Ross is a guy I fell in love with.” Josh was relieved when he felt Billy’s fist nestle in his grip. “He was in my class, and the first day, as the piece says, he passed me a note, like we were girls in high school – funny thing though, in that small class, Ross and I were the only guys. We hung out some, and I fell hard. He’s got these sad gray eyes, and an easygoing way, always with a ready smile for me; so friendly and warm. And it sickens me to think how I acted – the more I felt for him, the colder I forced myself to act around him. I was paralyzed that this straight guy would accuse me of the obvious – ‘You’re a fuckin’ F*g!’” Josh was upset and he transferred this to Billy’s fingers, which he kept kneading within his own grip. “The poor kid. He probably thinks I can’t stand him, judging by the way I treated him.”

In Billy’s mind, a quiet spark fought for his attention. Josh’s insentient motion on his fingers, though mindless on the part of the doer, drove an intensity to the forefront of his brain. With his free hand he touched the spot, there, right between the eyes. He fought to tell himself to dispel the silly notion pressing there for release. Billy lifted Josh’s hand between their views. He forced it to be still. “And you think this Ross fellow . . . is straight?”

Joshua returned a blank stare.

“Because he doesn’t sound straight to me. In fact, it sounds like this guy was totally into you!”

The night reclaimed the silence hanging between them, and then it hit Josh like a ton of bricks. All the tension in his face drained, and came out of his arms. He had never even considered the possibility. “Fuck,” Joshua mumbled. “I am fuckin’ stupid; so stupid.” Then he started laughing at himself. “As you can tell, I’m fuckin’ messed up. I really messed myself up good staying so pathetic for so long.” Then he became serious again. “I’ve got complex feelings about being Gay. Just recently out, the guys I like have little to offer depth-wise; the older guys are more alike to me, but it’s unfair to let them think I have strong attachments to them. My ‘type,’ like Sam, doesn’t seem to like me. There’s one guy, Nick, you probably know him, or at least seen him around. He’s this super-hot jock type, but he turned out to be even less secure than me, though he’s got bravado to spare. No, I’ve done a lot of growing in a short time – it’s the mind – that’s where the connection is made; the heart has second vote.” In Josh’s internal melody line, the tune played and played, he couldn’t figure out if this song he knew so well was happy or sad for him, here on this hilltop; here with the boy he felt more than attraction for. “It’s just as you said: ‘Love must build on a spark.’” Joshua unaccountably raised and kissed the back of Billy’s hand, and he saw Billy change right before his eyes.

Billy slowly withdrew himself with obvious discomfort. He slid down and off the car, then without a word walked over to the cemetery gate. He lifted his arms and hung on to it. He bent his head down, and thought it might explode. The pressure in the center of his forehead forced him to close his eyes and rock his head in pain. ‘Not again,’ he thought. ‘Not here; not now, I can’t go through it again.’ He stood, he breathed in deep as if taking in light from the city and stars to clear his head. He peered out towards the horizon and felt like it was seeping in closer to him.

Alone with his thoughts, Josh kept beating himself up. ‘Stupid; stupid’ stupid . . . ’

Billy spoke softly. Joshua had to come stand next to him to hear. “You ever really consider why your psychic friend doesn’t like to come here?”

“The graves . . . ?”

“I don’t think so.” Billy guided Josh’s vision out over the spread of urban humanity below them. “Here, so much life, rushing, passing, missing, and sometimes, just sometimes, meeting – it must be unbearable. Like a tidal wave of feelings for her, and if she’s anything like me, she’s not a good swimmer.” Billy blinked sad eyes, lurching for Josh’s wrist and drawing him in. “But when it happens, when it floats you, when it lifts you, you have to be honest and admit that you know it’s there. You understand me, Joshua? It’s like, now.”

 

˚˚˚˚˚

 

After he dropped Billy off at 5 AM , Joshua searched for and found the music that had freely rifled through his head at the cemetery. He still couldn’t face the prospect of going home; there was nothing there for him now except sleep, and that seemed the farthest thing from his mind.

Top of the World blared out, and it made him laugh at his own corniness; but of course!

That was the melody, and why not? The view, the stars, the mood, and as he drove around County roads empty of any life on a Sunday morning at six-thirty, that sweet country guitar-lick at the beginning of the number sounded over and over again, with the full song trailing behind. It was some kind of celebration, some kind of mystic warning – again Josh was caught between not knowing if the song was a sad one or a happy expression of hope. Maybe it was both, and why not? Are tears not shed at a birth as they are at a funeral? Josh laughed. “And I was born at a cemetery!”

Josh quieted his focus on to the last moments before he had parted with Billy. In the car, the car parked before his apartment building, Josh and he had sat in a stilled hush. Phone numbers were exchanged, and Josh asked “How soon can I call you?” “Let me get in the door first” was Billy’s answer. But then he added “Or, I might call you before then.” What neither knew, but what both suspected was true – what both wanted to be true – is that together they wondered why they were parting at all. Finally, Billy pulled the door handle, and the ceiling light rudely blinded them for a second. Before Josh could get his wits together, Billy had leaned over, and kissed him. It was their first, and it was a parting touch, fleeting as a whispered promise and just as non-committal. So why did it mean so much to Joshua? He almost felt like crying remembering the glance of Billy’s lips against his. And then Billy was gone.

Disjointed words of the lyrics vied for recognition all at once: ‘dream,’ ‘wonder,’ ‘surprised,’ and that word, that ‘love’ word. Josh wondered what it was about Billy that was causing him to fall so quickly and so hard. ‘Are we alike?’ he asked, but he decided that was only partially true. ‘No,’ he thought. ‘It’s like what I read in Melville, where one man loved another not because they were similar, but because they were complementary opposites; or, as he put it, one man’s convex fit perfectly into the other man’s concave.’ But whatever it was about Billy, nothing else seemed to matter. Joshua simply thought about the boy, and he was happy – really, truly, happy. ‘I hold an ember from him, and I fan it, for Billy – yes, I know it now, know what that spark is.’

Josh recognized that with those other guys, to one degree or another, he had to shut down his mind to consider if love was possible with them. With Billy, it was his mind itself that reached out to him, and he felt Billy’s own intellect reaching back to him in tender response.

In the car at parting, just before he left, Josh had asked Billy, “Why did you talk to me tonight?”

A sad-looking Billy replied, “Because, you needed me to.”

And now Joshua knew that was true; that everything Billy had ever offered to him was true.

Josh laughed out loud. He struck the top of the steering wheel in time to the song starting again. He was driving east, and the murky gray light that edged the horizon suddenly appeared different. Shadows of some looming and unseen object hovered like waves of heat off of desert asphalt, then all at once Josh gasped. For there it was, the sun rising. A small and deeply orange lozenge-shaped oval shimmering on the edge of day, but by quick degrees the outer rim expanded into a broadening arc. Slowly the color brightened, and the bloody orange gave way to a lighter vermillion – an orange-red – which in turn surrendered to ever more golden rays. Now, Joshua could feel the radiant heat of the orb rising before him. It came in gentle reassurance through his windshield. His cheeks began to take on the warmth, which, in fell aspect, promised the chill of the night was gone.

Inside of Josh the schism of heart and head healed. He saw in the clarity of this perfect light that what Joshua was attracted to was somewhat irrelevant to what his mind found sustenance in – and as Shakespeare knew – love lives up top, not in the heart, and certainly not behind the codpiece. In his vision, that gap between God’s active finger and Adam’s passive one finally shrunk to nothing. At meeting, a spark arose, and all else followed the birth of love. Josh leaned forward pressing his chest against the wheel. He squinted at the newborn sun with newfound awe.

In his side mirror he saw more lights. He righted himself. A peep in the rearview mirror confirmed it. He took his foot off the gas, glancing at the speedometer – he was speeding. “Shit,” he laughed. And he couldn’t stop laughing.

 

˚˚˚˚˚

 

Josh rolled down the window, letting Karen Carpenter’s melancholy joy spill out onto the roadway. He had his license, insurance and registration all ready to go. He glanced at the officer, a tall Italian or Latino with movie-star good looks. “Morning, officer,” Josh rang out to him. “Great day, isn’t it!” Top of the World kept beat to his words.

“Do you know”—the officer scrutinized the car occupant—“how fast you were going, sir?”

Josh had a pang upon seeing the face of the man. Something seemed . . . . “No idea, sir. Not more than 55, I believe.”

“Yes, in a 40 zone.”

“Oh, I see” was Josh’s happy reply. He kept time to the music with his hands on the wheel.

“Have you been drinking, sir?”

“No, sir.” Josh flattened his mouth as much as he could, but in a flash it hit him. “You’re Chase! Doug’s friend! I thought I recognized you. How are you?!”

Chase was a bit taken aback. “We’ve met?”

“At Angles.”

Chase checked out the name on the driver’s license again. He cracked a grin. “You’re the ‘Joshua’ that Doug is always going on about!”

“I guess that’s me! Doug is one hell of a nice guy.” Josh pulled Chase down for a bit of a confidence. “And mega endowed.”

Chase stood, smiling. He knew. “But, look – forget about the ticket. I know Doug will take care of it for you. But, you gotta tell me”—he shook his head, his mouth scowled in friendly question, and the rising sun glinting in his glasses on Josh’s eyes—“are you all right?”

Josh beamed, not as hard as before, but more within himself. “I’m fine, Chase. And if you’ve ever fallen in love in six hours, then you know exactly how I feel.”

                    

~

 

 

 

 

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