Lukas - 1. Lukas 1

“Congratulations to the college graduate!” Lucas’ father toasted, raising his glass of wine at their Friday evening meal. “I think that I can speak for all of us in saying how proud we all are of you.”

“I was surprised that he made it through phonics,” his oldest sister, Diane, added to laughs around the table. “And here he is on the cusp of Columbia Law School. Who would have thought?” she said to more laughs around the table.

“To the class of 1980!” she said as she again raised her hand to start another round of clashing glasses around the table of her Dad’s suburban Cleveland home.

In spite of the high ceilings and wood paneling in the dining room of the large Norman Revival style house on a curvy cul-de-sac, the atmosphere was anything but formal. Part of it was the character of their immigrant family who believed that informality made them more ‘American.’ However, no one would deny that the 90-degree June weather also had something to do with it.

The older generation, which included Hans Richter, who went by Hansl or Hansi to his family and friends, his sister Renate, who was called Rena, and brother Felix, known as Fexl, were the only ones with collars on their shirts. Short sleeves, no ties and starchless shirts were big steps for all of them - practically like dressing for the beach.

“To the boy who is at home in the water as he is on land, who does a sport a season and two sports in the summer,” his other, two-years older sister, Stephanie, said. “I don’t know what subterfuges he used to get the grades he did, but I doubt if it was honest.”

“Cheating!” one of his cousins offered.

“Bribes!” another added.

“Seducing the female professors!” said another, getting a round of raucous laughs from all around the table.

Lukas Richter, the object of his family’s affectionate banter, sat quietly in the middle the table as the honored guest, smiling weakly to the barbs that he usually returned with equal or more wit. He had hardly eaten any of the baked salmon filet that sat in front of him which was well-known as his favorite food and was specially prepared by his cousins just for tonight.

His Aunt Rena, who was seated next to him, squeezed his leg. “Are you OK, Luka?” She asked, using the family name for him.

“Yeah, I’m… OK, Aunt Rena. Thanks for asking,” he responded with a weak smile, which told her just the opposite.

“Did you do any work in the woodshop today?” she asked, fishing for a subject that would get some good feelings out of him. Lukas had learned woodworking as a hobby alongside his doctor father, and a long afternoon cutting and sanding a piece of lumber into something was almost a Zen moment for both of them, especially Lukas.

He shook his head. “No, not today. Just didn’t feel like it, I guess," he replied. ”Maybe tomorrow.”

“Well, we really like the nightstands that you made for us. Your Uncle and I use them every night. The water just beads up so quicky on that polished finish. They’re beautiful … just perfect,” she added.

“I’m glad that you both like them,” he answered, again giving only a fraction of the luminescent smile for which he was usually known.

As the meal progressed, the joy seemed to be with everyone but the graduate. He thought he was again successfully hiding his thoughts and feelings, but many in his family did notice. It was especially true with his Dad whose joviality and smile was becoming as much an effort to cheer him up as it was a sincere feeling of pride and celebration for his son’s accomplishments.

Lukas had hardly spoken without prompt during the whole meal when, after the dessert was served, he couldn’t hold it in anymore and cleared his throat. Whether it was to get attention or was actually just a cough, his Aunt Rena gave everyone the evil eye to quiet down.

The room went silent. Even the dogs, who always hung around the table looking for scraps, were only noticeable by the slight tingling sound of the tags gently swinging on their collars. It seemed like only Lukas’ labored breathing could be heard.

“Um…” he started.

“Are you OK, son?” his Dad asked from the end of the table, his eyes looking directly at him.

“I…I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head sideways “…but I need to say something,” he responded quietly.

“I…’ he continued but stopped. Aunt Rena’s hand was still on his leg. “I need to tell you all something….,” he started, but again couldn’t finish….

Every time he wanted to speak, he couldn’t get those thoughts from the past out of his head.

Up until later in junior high, he always felt a part of things. He played sports, went to the movies, hung out at his friends’ houses and talked about their favorite sports teams, cars, tv shows, all the typical stuff that obsesses teenage boys.

But then, the conversations gradually started to change when he got to high school. First innocently, then ominously, talk about girls started to enter the conversation. It wasn’t that he couldn’t talk about girls or talk to girls - he had all sorts of friends of both sexes - but the things that guys were increasingly interested in didn’t make sense to him. They’d talk about tits, or lips, legs, or hair, the comments focused on their bodies. There was something lurking here, he thought, not only because he had no interest, but suddenly it seemed like all his guy friends had almost no other interest.

It was confusing and disorientating, but he suspected something important was happening and had a dark suspicion about what it was.

He began to retreat into the pool, the one sport that allowed him solitary time where he wouldn’t need to talk. The swim team regimen not only included hours in the pool, but time in the weight room, too, which, while not as solitary, had one other drawback: it was a much bigger one. That drawback was that he struggled to avoid some staring at some of the buff guys in the gym, which took all the willpower he could muster.

There was, fortunately, some upside: as he improved his swim times, he also developed a pretty decent body himself, especially considering his slim body inherited from his father. There were always going to be swimmers who were more naturally gifted than he, of course, especially some of the really tall guys with enormous hands and feet. He pushed himself to the limit of his abilities in the pool and the weight room. The coach could always count on him to run a strong leg in relays and individual events. He could handle the ups and downs of competitive swimming, and actually enjoyed it. But the awakening in him of the other part of his life was starting to shake apart his life.

One night, during spring of his senior year, the head cheerleader held an Open House while her wealthy parents left for a charity event in New York, and it seemed like virtually every kid in town showed up. Amongst the largest of the already big houses that were typical of this garden suburb, and far bigger than his own home, it was truly a sprawling mansion, with a big backyard that included tennis courts and a swimming pool and lots of nooks and crannies and cubbies for couples to get away from the crowd for an ‘intimate moment.’

Lukas tagged along with his friends, as it would certainly be a memorable blowout event for everyone who could be part of it. There were cars parked up and down the street, and the large, wooden, almost medieval front door was wide open. As his pals gradually scattered to chase girls, get drunk or just explore the not so miniature palace, Lukas wandered by himself through the maze of rooms and finally into the huge gourmet kitchen, a wide-open space with an attached pantry and so much dark carved wood on every surface that it seemed almost too precious to be really lived in.

The house was opulent in every way and was probably a really great place to live, but at this moment there was no escape from the stifling heat of the rooms packed with inebriated and horny teenagers and the stale smell of spilled beer.

Even though it was cool outside, in the mid-fifties, he knew what kind of inferno to expect inside with this kind of crowd, so wore just a t-shirt and shorts and sneakers. His t-shirt was a bit on the tight side as it was an older one from before his weight training days for swimming. Back when he got it, he thought it was baggy and oversized, but he hardly noticed that it had gradually gotten tighter and even a bit shorter on him over the past two years. As much as he tried to control his own wandering eyes and not stare at some of the guys, he was oblivious to the fact that his own good looks and nice body could arouse the interest of others.

His hands were in his pockets, casually looking around in the crowd to see if any of his friends had also ended up there when he heard, “Hey, Lukee!” from a buxom cheerleader classmate as he stood in front of the open pantry door.

She and another girl, who Lukas also recognized as a member of the cheerleading squad, stumbled between the breakfast counter chairs in a drunken attempt to reach him. In each of their hands was a plastic cup with sloshing and spilling beer flying all over the kitchen He noticed that they were whispering to each other, their other hands in front of their mouths and giggling as they closed in on him.

“Oh, hi,” Lukas responded as they approached him, stepping back into the pantry to try trying to avoid their aimless approach.

Continuing to giggle, they clumsily put down their drinks on the wood shelves, spilling what remained of the contents onto the tile floor before pursuing Lukas farther into the small, dimly lit chamber.

“Oh well, there are 10 kegs left!” one said to the other as her cup finally fell on the floor, laughing hysterically at her own joke before she adjusted the tube top tightly stretched across her jiggling breasts and tried to collect herself.

“LUKEE,” she again called out, playfully emphasizing the last syllable. “We want to know if you’ll go out with us,” she cried out, looking at her friend. “We both think you’re really cute and hot, and, man-oh-man, what a body!” she continued, reaching out and stroking his tight shirt with her beer-scented hand.

“Oh yeah! The other responded. You’re the reason that all the girls like to go to swim meets!” she added.

Before Lukas knew what was happening, the two horned-up young nymphs were all over him. The one girl, Sandy, pulled up his shirt and traced her finger over his six-pack abs while using the other hand to roll up Lukas’ sleeve and expose his bicep.

“Wow, this is nice!” she squealed loud enough for half the house to hear. “Not too big and gross like those bodybuilders, but just right.”
“Will you flex it for me? Pretty please?” she asked, poking into the firm flesh with her finger, then tracing the vein that ran prominently at the top of the defined muscle.

“Yeah, and will you flex this one, too,’ added Rachel, her friend, reaching around him to put her left hand on his ass while her other one wedged itself under the elastic band around his tight waist and made its way down the front of his shorts.

Lukas was stunned.

He wanted to do nothing else but shrink to the size of an ant or a fly and escape. But as he tried to step back he found himself pushed up against the pantry shelves, trapped with nowhere to go. All he could sense was their stinking beer breath and their fingers invading his body.

Rachel cried out, “Oh my gosh, yes, he’s cut, just like I thought, and pretty thick, too. but…”

“But what?” Sandy replied, her own hand now moving up Lukas’s chest to stroke his pecs.

“He’s soft!”

“What! The first girl said, pulling her hand off his bicep and covering her mouth.

“Let me see that! She said as she herself now reached into his pants.

“What’s the matter, Lukee? Don’t we turn you on?” she pleaded. “I’ll bet we can change that, though,” she said, pushing away her friends hand and wrapping her own cold fingers around his still limp shaft.

“But what if he’s a f….” one said to the other, afraid to complete the word that they both knew, both again giggling as Sandy reached down further and tried to grab his balls.

“Well, we’ll fix that, too!” Rachel responded. “I can’t believe a stud like this is queer. No way! He just hasn’t met the right girls.”

“Like us!” her friend responded as she fell against the shelves full of cooking supplies, dumping a whole bag of rice onto the floor.

“I gotta go!” Lukas desperately pleaded as he pushed the hands from his pants. “Please, I gotta go…sorry… I gotta go!” he added, pulling down his shirt as he shoved his way in between them while they both squeezed his butt on the way out.

Racing through the kitchen and then the rest of the house, pushing drunken bodies out of his way as he desperately looked for an exit, Lukas finally got some relief from the cool outside air as he passed through the still wide-open front door. He continued to run down the street, running as fast as he could, until finally, out of breath, he braced himself against a tree. And cried.

Lukas was awakened from his nightmare stupor by the feel of his sister Stephanie’s hand on his other leg. This was her smart, virile, athletic brother who for about the first time in her life seemed almost dazed by fear.

Whispering in his ear, she asked if he had gotten a girl pregnant, though that didn’t seem like him. She wondered whether he had gotten into an accident and hurt someone? A fight? She was completely baffled.

Everyone around the table seemed to think that they had some idea about what their cousin, brother, nephew was about to say. Only his Dad seemed to anticipate what was really coming. And, by his face, he tried to be encouraging to his son.

“I’m gay” Lukas finally pushed out. It was so soft that his Uncle Felix had to ask his son, Lukas’s cousin, what was said.

“I…ugh…don’t know what you’ll all think. I’m still the same person, but if you think that I’ve changed, there’s nothing…um…that I can do about it. But I can’t hide this anymore. I just can’t… I’m sorry. I hope that I haven’t disappointed you all,” he said, looking down in front of him. But then he raised his head and looked at the head of the table.

“Especially you, Dad. I know that you’ve worked so hard for everything. And your pretty religious and all. So, I know this isn’t what you expected and all. And if you can’t accept me than, I guess…”

Indeed, almost everyone was looking for Hans Richter’s reaction. He had narrowly escaped the Nazis and had reinvented himself, with much effort, as an American. This would seem to crush everything that he had worked and sweated for in giving his family the American Dream, not to mention his Orthodox beliefs.

Lukas wasn’t crying but was on the edge. Both his Aunt and sister could feel him shaking.

When he was growing up, he remembered how often he heard from his parents that he and his siblings should be their own person. As he was surrounded by those words, they never seemed special to him. But never had he hoped more than ever that they were really serious.

As Mr. Richter pulled out his chair to get up, they didn’t know what he was going to do. He was always a model of calm propriety, and he credited this with his ability to survive, and thrive, in a new land. And he always preached the same to his family. But this – this was different.

Without hesitation, he walked right around the table and stood behind his son’s seat, putting his hand on his shoulder.

The fact that Lukas looked so much like his father made the encounter even more poignant.

Lukas was maybe a couple inches taller, about six-foot-two-inches - probably a height bump from his tall mother. But their faces and build were astoundingly alike, the same mouth, nose, cheek bones, forehead. Even the mop of curly black hair, which in the father’s case was slowly, but surely. surrendering to gray.

When Lukas turned around, now shaking even more as his father pulled him out of his seat, he was moving into the unknown.

‘What’s going to happen?’ he asked himself. He thought he knew his Dad, but maybe not. He only knew the outlines of his father’s life before immigration, but it wasn’t hard to see how difficult it could have been and what traumas may have happened.

The next moment, before he could think anymore, even before he had completely stood up, he found himself in his father’s embrace.

“Dad, I’m sorry.” Lukas said, weakly returning the hug, his voice, like his body, still shaking.

“There is nothing to be sorry about, Luka,’ he replied. “I’m your father and I’ll always be there for you,” he answered, keeping the grip with his right hand while running his left hand through Lukas’ hair.

“And just so you know, I think I can say that your mother would feel the same way if she was still here,” he added.

Luke didn’t know if his dad was right or not. His mom had died of breast cancer during his sophomore year of college. She had always been his biggest fan and even in a tight family, he felt closest to her. And it was she who was acknowledged by all, especially his dad, as the real boss and anchor of the clan. However, he wouldn’t question it now, and accepted whatever good news he could get.

Others got up from the table and gave Lucas equal support, almost forming a protective circle around him and getting even more of a choked-up response from the normally stoic Lukas.

He reveled in the warmth, as his cousins were like brothers and sisters and his aunts and uncles like surrogate parents. The three families lived within a few miles of each other and the cousins often slept in each other’s houses. After the grandparents retired, they stayed with Hans’ family, and that gradually evolved into the social center for everyone, even for the spouses who married the three Richter children. No one bothered to knock when visiting the other’s houses.

It was quiet for a few moments before Lukas finally spoke. He knew now how very fortunate he was, as he had heard about other so-called ‘close’ families that were not so accepting. He knew a guy at school - they were both political science majors and sometimes played squash together - whose family disowned him and who had to get a job just to finish the semester. It was the same with a girl down the hall in his freshman year dorm who had to beg for scholarship money to continue with classes. Other families were not so cruel, but were ambivalent in a way that, to Lukas, cut almost as bad.

“By the way, I didn’t get my grades by seducing male professors either,” he belatedly replied, with all the effort he could muster to appear relaxed. There was again a pause before everyone looked at each other out of the corner of their eye to see if it was OK to respond. Then they all simultaneously joined in another round of laughter.

As his tremors were starting to subside, his sister Diane called out, “the ice cream is starting to melt. Let’s get back to eating.”

Still holding onto his father’s shoulders, he turned to her and shot back, “Your ice cream isn’t going anywhere, so give it a rest,” almost returning to a full smile, but getting hearty laughs out of everyone else. As his father released his embrace, he squeezed his shoulder and whispered, “I thought that you were going to say this. If not now, sometime.”

Lukas looked at his father, his eyes wide open. “Really? “How did you know?” he added after taking a deep breath.

Mr. Richter paused, but just smiled back.

Lukas was incredulous! He had tried so hard to hide his feelings and thought that he was pretty good at it, if you can ever call hiding yourself ‘good.’ And now, his father was saying that he knew all along.

‘What did I do to give it away?’ he asked himself. ‘Did he catch me looking at some guy? Is it because I like to work out in the gym and I’ve got kind of a decent body? Did those girls from back in high school say something?’ It was a complete mystery. There was not enough time to cogitate on it. There were about a dozen people at the table, and he could barely keep up with all the questions, at the same time trying to figure out ways to answer them discreetly, like answering one question about how he know he was gay.

“I just kind of like guys and just, you know, certain types, I guess,” which was true as far as it went. But what I didn’t want to add were things like, ‘my dick gets hard when we play shirts and skins in basketball, especially when the skins first take off their shirts and show their chests,’ or ‘Jeeze, I think it’s because that Josh Blum guy in my econ class was so damn cute that I want to hug and kiss him.’

At the end of the meal, his father waved his hand to get everyone’s attention.

“I think that this has been an important occasion for a lot of reasons, and I want to thank everyone for their support of Lukas. I’m so proud of you all and how we all rally around each other in this family, as we always have,” he said, taking the time to scan the table and make eye contact with each one and finally resting his gaze on his only son. He was quiet for a moment. It was as if this event had moved him in some other way, too.

“You all know that Aunt Rena and Uncle Fexil and I rarely talk about leaving Vienna back in 1938. It was not a happy time for any of us. But I wanted to finally share with you the reason that I think our family, including Opa and Oma made it to America and why we are all here today. And it has a lot to do with what Lukas just told us,” he answered, using the German name for Grandpa and Grandma that they always used with the grandkids.

“Do you agree Rena? Fexil?” he asked, looking at his middle-aged siblings.

“Yes, I think that it might be time to finally tell the story. And I think you can tell it best, Hansl,” Renate answered. “It’s really about you more than anyone - even Opa and Oma.”

“I agree,” added Felix. “I was only twelve, so I know that you two remember a lot more than I do. Especially you, Hansl.”

“Well, it isn’t all about me, so please add in if I miss anything.”

“Oh, I will, for sure,” Aunt Rena added, getting a chuckle from her brother.

Part of the story was just about the practical parts of leaving and the timeline, and the grandkids already knew a lot of this. All of them were encouraged to get a strong education so that they could take care of themselves and prosper. Rena and Hansl became doctors, and Fexl was an important partner in his accounting firm. But it was the grandfather’s indifference to school that, ironically enough, probably saved them from destitution when they first came to America.

Opa’s father was so disgusted with his son’s focus on soccer and swimming and gallivanting, and his obvious unsuitability for school beyond the Gymnasium, the Austrian name for a college-prep high school, that he forced him into an apprenticeship with a tailor he knew.

Opa reluctantly consented, but eventually developed a considerable skill, opened his own shop and created a thriving business. Amongst his clients were former Gymnasium classmates who became lawyers and doctors and business owners and referred him to their professional colleagues and even people in the military.

After Hitler’s Anschluss, the annexation of Austria to Germany, when emigration was forced on many of them, more than a few of those who made it overseas struggled in the new world, especially the lawyers and people who had very culturally specific skills and even doctors who didn’t know English or the local language where they landed.

As much as it was still The Depression, Opa’s tailoring skills were transferable to virtually all western countries. Unusual for a refugee back then, he quickly got back on his feet to a point where he was not only able to support his family, but eventually, together with Oma, who ran their shop, provided opportunities for Hans, Renate and Felix to have the first-rate college education that he himself had eschewed.

The other part of the story they didn’t know, but Hans and his siblings finally felt it was time to share it, so they all moved into the living room and surrounded Dr. Richter in his favorite reading chair to hear what else had happened to save their family.