The Swan of Tuonela - 3. Texas Two-Step

The aspect of Phillip’s job that he hated most was trying to satisfy all the competing groups involved in the creation of a training course. When he started his job, Phillip had never expected that it would involve so much manipulation, ego gratification, politics, and just plain ass-kissing. Everyone wanted everything his way. The programmers wanted him to mention every bell and whistle they had coded, no matter how trivial. The training administrators always wanted more chargeable days. The instructors always wanted more labs. Hell, even the sales and marketing people got a crack at him, which was the most demeaning thing of all. And this week had been particularly onerous since Phillip had had to have several conversations with an exceptionally irritating and opinionated instructor. But now it was Thursday, he thought, and the week was almost over. He stood up, flipped the switch on his PC off with a flourish, picked up his gym bag and walked out the door. He stopped by Chloe’s office and rapped on the doorframe.

“Got plans for tonight?”

“Me? You gotta be kidding,” she retorted. Her lack of a social life was a regular topic of complaint.

“So you want to do dinner?”

“Sure. 7:30?”

“Sounds good. Al Vera’s,” Phillip asked, mentioning a favorite Mexican restaurant of theirs.

“Mmm, that’s a plan. I need a margarita or two after this week.”

“Yeah, I’ve been on the phone with reviewers all week.”

“Ouch.” Chloe winced. “You definitely deserve a drink then.”

“Yeah, my ass has been chewed on so hard, it feels like beef jerky,” Phillip deadpanned. “OK, I’ll pick you up around 7:00.”

“I’ll be ready.”

Phillip drove home. As he walked into the kitchen, he smiled and thought how Chloe was always berating him for not locking his back door. Phillip’s apartment had a small kitchen in the back that gave onto a small dining area connected to the living room. On the left, a short hall led from the living room past a closet and ended with the bedroom on the left and the bathroom on the right. At the far end of the living room, the front door opened into the stairwell. In Phillip’s building, there were four apartments grouped around an interior stairwell; Phillip’s was one of the two on the second floor.

Two steps into the kitchen, he was met by Siegfried, who leapt straight for his chest. “So, did you miss your daddy today?” Phillip said as Siegfried’s licks pushed Phillip’s glasses halfway off his nose. Phillip sat the dog down and watched him run into the living room, pause and look back to see if Phillip was following. Seeing that he wasn’t, Siegfried gave two sharp barks. “OK, OK, you’re ready for your dinner, huh, little guy?” Phillip said, filling the food dish. Siegfried galloped back into the kitchen and buried his head in the bowl. Phillip could hear the muffled chomping as he walked through the living room on his way to get the mail. Opening the front door, he swayed at the reek of perfume enclosed in the stairwell but still made it down to retrieve the two flyers, pair of bills, and current week’s Computerworld that constituted the day’s mail.

By the time he returned, sat on the sofa, and began looking through the magazine, Siegfried had finished eating. He scampered into the room and picked up a red, blue and yellow ball, the one Phillip had removed the squeaker from, trotted over and dumped it into Phillip’s lap. After getting no response, he placed his paws on the edge of the sofa and nosed the ball further up between Phillip’s legs. Phillip looked down from his article on client-server implementation. “I think someone wants to play,” he said, laying aside the magazine and taking the ball in his right hand. Siegfried jumped down and dashed a couple of feet away before suddenly twirling around and crouching like a linebacker in anticipation. Phillip held his arm up higher as if to throw the ball; Siegfried crouched lower, crunching his bushy eyebrows together. Phillip brought his arm down but held on to the ball. Siegfried whirled and ran full out down the hall, looking frantically from side to side for the ball. Once he reached the end of the hall and realized no ball was forthcoming, he turned, trotted back, and sat down facing Phillip once again. He could play this game for hours. He never got tired of being conned, sort of like Charlie Brown and Lucy and the football. But the next time Phillip released the ball so Siegfried could catch it. He only had an hour before he was to pick up Chloe for dinner, and he still had to take Siegfried out for his walk and change clothes, and he didn’t have time for an extended session of puppyball. So as he headed down the hall on the way to the bedroom, he was thinking about what to wear and didn’t notice that sitting on the edge of the piano, partially hidden under a dog-eared copy of Book I of Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier, the answering machine’s light was blinking.

                                                            *  *  *  * 

Two hours later, Chloe and Phillip had finished commiserating about work over their food, she over her sour cream enchiladas and he over his chimichanga. Lubricated by several margaritas and a couple of Dos Equis, by the end of dinner, they were happy and contented. Their conversation had gradually died until they both sat silent. Phillip poked a final time at the remains of his refried beans and looked up.

“So you want to go dancing?”

“The Round Up?”

“Sure,” Phillip said and then added grandly, “After all, it’s the scene of my greatest triumphs.”

The Round Up was a Dallas gay institution. A mammoth country and western bar, smack in the middle of the Crossroads area of town where all the bars were. It had a huge dance floor and was known for having cute bartenders, a friendly crowd, and a (relatively) non-sexual atmosphere. It was the place where people went just to have a good time, not to score (not that it didn’t happen occasionally). It was one of the best clubs in Dallas to dance in. It was one of Phillip’s favorite places.

Which was somewhat surprising when he thought about it. Growing up in west Texas, he had scorned country and western music as being for the uneducated and unsophisticated and had concentrated on classical music instead. And as a music major in college, he had made it a point of pride to be familiar with all the major works in the literature (Except for chamber music. He hated chamber music). But probably because it was so non-threatening, he found the Round Up to be a haven, a place where he could go and relax and have a few beers and possibly meet someone.

And dance.

Many years ago, on one life-changing Saturday evening, Phillip’s best friend Karl had taken him around all the gay bars in Dallas. It had been Phillip’s coming out. Whenever he thought back on it now, Phillip smiled to himself and was sure he must have walked around agog, much like he had when walking down the Kärntnerstrasse on his first visit to Vienna. And he was positive his eyes must have ballooned as he and Karl walked into the Round Up, and he saw...

Men dancing together.

Men holding each other and dancing together.

Men holding each other tightly and dancing slowly together.

He was instantly hooked.

In the first months after he moved to Dallas, he spent every night there. He became friends with all the bartenders (bartenders, by definition, are non-threatening - they have to respond to you if you speak to them). He made friends. He learned to dance. He started buying Wrangler jeans. He started buying Gary Morris and Reba McEntire records. He programmed a button on his car radio to one of the local C/W stations. And God only knows what his poor parents, who knew him only as a geeky classical music fan, must have thought the Christmas that he asked for a nice pair of boots. Chloe, who had gone to college out in west Texas and had loved going horseback riding, had had a name belt (one of those belts with the owner’s name engraved around the back) made for him a year ago for his birthday. He acquired two cowboy hats, a black felt one for winter and a white straw one for summer.

Phillip could still remember the first time someone had asked him to slow dance. He spent the next two weeks looking for the song to buy. He didn’t remember the name of the guy, although he remembered that he had had very blond hair, but he was sure that as they had stepped down onto the dance floor, he must have been blushing terribly. That was years ago now however, and he was way past blushing. Chloe and Phillip went out dancing about once a month or so. At first, she had been a bit hesitant, but now she loved the place, especially since the night when someone came up to her, commented that she had the best looking butt in the room, and asked her to dance.

They entered the front door and walked through the quiet bar. Mike, the bartender, waved at them as they passed. Phillip glanced at the monitors to see what movie they were showing. He had spent many hours there, drinking beer, watching movies, and talking with the bartenders. One of them, Bob, was also a cyclist like Phillip, so they had spent hours debating the relative merits of Campangolo gear sets, Shimano brakes, and carbon fiber frames. A couple of times, they had gone riding together out at the lake. It occurred to Phillip that he hadn’t seen Bob for a few weeks now. He wondered if he was on vacation or something.

They pushed through the swinging door and into the main room. The rectangular dance floor was sunken a couple of steps and had a railing around the sides. There were bars along the walls on the right and left and bathrooms against the back wall. In the far left corner, there was an open doorway out to the pool room and then the back patio. The place was covered in rough unfinished wood and, as in any good honky-tonk, the walls were hung with neon beer signs. The carpet was worn and pocked with cigarette burns. On the weekends, there was a boot shine stand in the corner.

There weren’t a lot of people for a Thursday night, but it was early still. Chloe went and stood at the railing that looked out over the dance floor. Phillip went to the bar and got them two Buds.

“So what happened with you Sunday night?” Ron asked as he snapped open the bottles and handed them to Phillip.

“What do you mean?”

“You and that cute guy. You two were off in the corner over there, going at it. I thought we were going to have to pry you apart with a crow bar.”

“Well, he spent the night,” Phillip answered. “That’s about all I can say.”

“Oh,” Ron said, disappointed. “I was hoping for more details than just that.”

“Well you won’t get them from me,” Phillip said. “I don’t remember a lot, to be truthful.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

Phillip thought for a second. Bartenders are the gay world’s confessors; they know everyone and all the gossip. “Actually…” he began, “do you know anything about him?”

“No, not really. He comes in here from time to time. Appears to have a good number of friends and acquaintances. Not a psycho, as far as I can tell.”

Phillip considered this. “OK…,” he said. “This is really embarrassing now,” Phillip said, lowering his voice. “Do you happen to know his name?”

Ron stared at him. “You don’t remember his name? He spent the night with you. How can you not remember his name?”

Phillip didn’t say anything.

Ron looked at Phillip, shook his head and took pity on him. He looked away and considered for a moment. “Mike or Mark I think. Matt maybe. One of those M- names anyway.”

“Well, that narrows it down a bit…,” Phillip said. “I gave him my number the next morning. I guess if he ever calls me, I’ll find out the details.”

“And you might remember them the morning after if you stay off the tequila shots the night before,” Ron joked.

“Gee. I’ll keep that advice in mind.”

Phillip returned to Chloe. They both stood drinking their beers and watching the dancers. A set of line dances began. Phillip looked over at the corner that Ron had mentioned. He stared but still didn’t remember anything. Looking back across the bar, he smiled as he saw Jack turn the corner of the railing and start approaching. Jack was one of the friends Phillip had made after moving to Dallas. He was from Buffalo and was a system administrator for one of the local technology companies. Phillip, Chloe and Jack had all become close friends over the past few years, just three more wage slaves trying to survive the telecommunications tsunami that was inundating Dallas.

“Hey, guys. So how’s it going?” Jack said as he hugged Chloe and nodded at Phillip.

“We’re both recovering from a particularly stressful week.” Phillip said, gesturing with his beer.

“And to make matters worse, Phillip is in the throws of love,” Chloe announced.

Jack’s eyebrows jumped and he grinned. “OK, I gotta have the details on this.”

“There are no details,” Phillip answered. “At least none that I can provide. A guy I met here last Sunday. If you want information, you might be better off talking to Ron. He evidently remembers more about it than I do.”

“Ah,” Jack said knowingly. “One of those nights.”

Phillip sliced his eyes around at Jack.

“Not judging. Just commenting,” Jack said, holding up his palms in appeasement.

The line dance set had ended. Hearing one of his favorite songs start, Phillip looked at Chloe. “We came here to dance. Let’s go.”

“OK. We’ll be back,” she told Jack.

“I’ll be here, waiting.”

Three songs later, Phillip and Chloe returned. Phillip took a big swig to finish off his beer and wiped his forehead. “I need a break. I’m getting too old for this. We should have stopped after the first.”

“Well, I just got here,” Jack said. “And I haven’t danced yet, so let’s go,” he said as he took Chloe’s elbow. Chloe looked at Phillip, gave a mock sigh of resignation and let Jack lead her down the steps and back onto the floor. But Phillip knew she was enjoying being the center of attention. That was one of the reasons she liked coming here. She was a good dancer, and with all these guys, she was in demand. And anyway, Phillip was happy that she was having such a good time.

By 10:30, the place had picked up. Evidently many people had decided to start the weekend early. Phillip returned to the bar and stood under the spot light at the drink station. Ron was deep in conversation with a customer, so it took a little while before Phillip got another beer. He went back and leaned on the railing, smiling to himself and watching Chloe and Jack dancing. They made such a cute couple: Chloe, four-foot five (big Dallas hair added another two inches) and Jack, at least six feet tall. Jack and Chloe and the other dancers were sliding and turning and circling to the fast beat of the song. Phillip was tapping his fingers on the railing and gazing across the floor. He felt a soft tap on his shoulder.

“Hey guy, what’s up?”

Phillip turned around and was shocked his overnight guest from the previous Sunday. It took time for him to get a response out.

“Uh…not much,” he stammered. “I’m …I’m just here with a couple of friends.”

“Yeah, I saw you talking with them.”

“Well, I work with Chloe. Jack is just a friend,” Phillip explained quickly.

“Oh, that’s really cool that you can bring friends from work here. I’m here with a couple of friends too.”

Phillip was silent, staring out across the dance floor and trying to think of something charming and witty to say. Just then the song ended and Jack and Chloe started walking off the dance floor toward him. Shit! Phillip thought as he realized that introductions would be necessary, and he knew that would be awkward, since he couldn’t remember his overnight guest’s name. As they approached, he gave Chloe a stabbing stare, motioned with his eyes toward the guy standing next to him, and shot her an imploring look. She looked at Mark, recognized him from Phillip’s description, and grasped the situation immediately.

“Hi, I’m Chloe. I’m a friend of Phillip’s.” She said walking up and holding out her hand.

“Hi, I’m Mark.” (Mark! Phillip thought.) He took her hand and shook it warmly. He smiled. Chloe blinked and then looked at Phillip. Jack was silent.

“Mark and I met here last Sunday night,” Phillip said.

“Yes, you told me,” Chloe answered, looking back at Mark.

No one spoke. Jack was looking at Mark, Mark was looking at Chloe, and Phillip was looking at the opposite wall.

“So Mark,” Chloe said. “Just so you know, I’m Phillip’s guardian, and he knows he has to obtain my approval on any potential boyfriends.”

Phillip widened his eyes in horror. Jack smirked.

She continued. “And so you see, before I can make my decision I need some basic information about you. Where do you live? What do you do for a living? That sort of thing. But more importantly, what are your intentions toward Phillip?” she said, smiling her most winningly.

“Thank you Chloe, you have just managed to totally humiliate me,” Phillip muttered into his beer bottle, leaning on the railing. “I’ll have to move to another state now.”

Chloe cocked her head and looked up at Mark, who thought for a minute.

“Well, let’s see. I live in Carrollton,” he said, mentioning one of the northern suburbs. “I’m a mechanic out at the airport. And my intentions are…” he reached up and placed his hand on the back of Phillip’s neck “Honorable,” he finished, looking at Chloe and Jack.

“I guess,” he added.

Phillip stared at the steps to the dance floor, wanting them to open up and swallow him.

“Correct answer,” Chloe said in her best teacher voice.

“Thank you so very much” Phillip said, still looking at the floor. “So are we finished discussing my love life now? Please?”

Mark grinned.

“Yes, I think we’re finished for now,” Chloe said.

Phillip took a swig of his beer.

“Listen, I need to run over to my friends for a minute,” Mark said. “I rode here with Scott so he may want to head home soon. I’ll be back.” Phillip watched Mark walk off to the other side of the bar and then looked accusingly at Chloe.

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Did what?! If we’d waited for you, we would have never found out anything. Somebody had to ask questions. Besides, if I hadn’t intervened, the whole introduction thing would have been a disaster.”

She was right, of course, and Phillip smiled at her. “You know, the way you run interference, you could have a second career in the NFL,” he said. Phillip watched as Chloe preened, self-satisfied and vindicated.

“Smugness is never attractive. Have I ever told you that?” he said as a reproach, but then he reached out and gave her a hug. “Thank you.”

They stood listening to the music and watching the people dancing. Phillip looked across the room and saw Mark in a group with two other guys. They were talking and from time to time a large, weight lifter-looking guy glanced over in Phillip’s direction and then looked down at his watch. Shit, I hate deadlines, Phillip thought and then wondered what they were saying. Phillip watched the three of them talk, Mark and the blond weight lifter and the short stocky guy with dark hair and a moustache. After a few minutes, Phillip looked down at his beer. “So what do you think?” he asked.

“He’s hot,” Jack said. “I hate you.”

“He’s very nice. Kind of quiet, though,” Chloe added. “But I understand now why you’ve been so…” she searched for the right word “’distracted’ all week.”

“Distracted? What do you mean, distracted?” Phillip asked. “You say that like I’m some empty-headed country girl in a Jane Austin novel.”

Chloe didn’t reply. At least not immediately. “Well it’s understandable, I suppose. He does have a certain attractiveness,” she teased.

“Not to mention a killer smile” Jack added.

As if on cue, Mark walked up. Chloe noticed as he slipped an arm around Phillip’s waist.

“Scott said he won’t go for a little while yet.”

They all stood without speaking, listening to the music as a new song started.

“I want to dance,” Chloe announced and looked at Jack.

“But I hate this song. You know that. And you hate slow waltzes.”

“I don’t care. I want to dance,” she said again, staring at him. “Let’s. Go. Now.”

“OK, OK, Jeez…” Jack said, finally getting the message. They left for the dance floor and in a moment picked up the beat.

Mark and Phillip stood quietly, watching Jack and Chloe sway away across the dance floor.

“I like your friends,” Mark said.

“Yeah, well, at times some of them can be really irritating. I can’t believe Chloe said what she did to you. I apologize.”

Mark ran his hand up to Phillip’s shoulder. “There’s nothing to apologize for. She obviously cares a lot about you. You should be grateful for friends like that.”

They stood against the railing, watching the dancers.

“So is there anything I should apologize for? I mean, from the other night,” Phillip

asked, looking out at the spot lights sweeping across the dance floor. “Was I terribly sloppy?”

“No, not really, you were just very…,” Mark paused. “Happy,” he finished and squeezed Phillip’s shoulder. Phillip felt his cheeks burning. They watched the crowd circling the floor. The song changed and Chloe and Jack left by the other side of the dance floor and walked off to the bar. The DJ started playing a slow song. It was by one of Phillip’s favorite singers, and he started humming quietly.

“You know you still owe me a dance from the other night,” Mark bent down and whispered into Phillip’s ear.

Phillip blinked and stared at the empty dance floor while the introduction to the song played. Then he turned and leaned against the railing to face Mark.

“So,” Phillip asked. “Would you like to dance?”

“Yes,” Mark answered. “I would love to dance.”

Mark smiled his lopsided smile.

Phillip’s heart melted.

“You remember I don’t lead,” Mark asked.

“Of course I do,” Phillip lied.

Phillip led them down to the floor. He took Mark’s hand in his left and placed his right hand on Mark’s shoulder. They moved away slowly to the words of the song, and as the floor filled, Phillip maneuvered them through the other pairs of dancers. Through first one verse and then a second, Mark and Phillip held each other and circled the room. As the song built, Phillip guided them to the center of the floor where he didn’t have to watch out for other dancers, and they remained there, oblivious to everyone else, barely swaying to the music. Phillip closed his eyes and pulled Mark close. His hand left Mark’s shoulder and moved down, tracing the valley of Mark’s back through his shirt. When he reached Mark’s waist, he tucked his thumb into Mark’s belt, forming the rest of his hand into a soft fist. Then he drew Mark’s other arm around behind him, placing it tightly in the small of his own back. Phillip laid his face on Mark’s neck. He could feel Mark’s warmth and the wetness of Mark’s hair lying lightly against his forehead. The song began its final verse, and Phillip inhaled the scent of soap and shampoo and cologne. He pressed his face against Mark’s neck, feeling the moist heat of Mark’s skin and pushing Mark’s shirt aside with his mouth. He could feel Mark’s pulse beating strongly against his cheek and hear his own heartbeat booming in his ear. The dance floor was illuminated in soft blue light. There was only one other couple left dancing; Phillip and Mark were alone under the lights in the center of the floor.

The song ended finally and another, faster song started. The lights came up and Phillip blinked at the brightness. He and Mark walked off the floor and back to the railing where Chloe and Jack were now waiting for them. Phillip coughed. “Well … I think I need a beer after that,” he said hoarsely. “Are you OK?” he said, asking Mark if he needed anything to drink.

“Yeah, I’m fine, but let me go check back with Scott. He’s probably ready to go by now.”

Mark walked off and Phillip went up to Ron to get another beer. Ron was grinning. Phillip sighed. “So what are you smirking about?”

“Nothing,” Ron said, “just looking around for my crowbar.”

Phillip rolled his eyes at the bad joke. “Look, just give me the beer, OK?”

“Sure. God knows you must be thirsty.”

Phillip paid and returned to Chloe and Jack.

“Well, that was a performance, I must say,” Jack said. Chloe looked at Phillip and then looked away.

“You too? What?”

“Nothing. I’m just trying to think of what I’ll say to you when I see you at work tomorrow morning,” she said.

“OK, so maybe I wasn’t my usual soul of discretion,” Phillip said and grinned proudly. “But that’s what you get when you pile a slow dance with a hot man on top of numerous beers and a good chimichanga.”

Mark returned. “Listen, Scott is ready to leave. Walk me to the door?”

“Sure.” Phillip put his beer down on the railing.

Mark took Phillip’s hand and they walked outside. “So did you get my message?” Mark asked quickly.

“What message? No, I didn’t get any message.”

“I called and left you a message saying that I would be out tonight. That’s the only reason I’m here.”

“No, I didn’t get it. It’s been a really hard week at work, and I thought Chloe might like to go out dancing. That’s the reason we were out tonight.”

Mark nodded and was silent. Then he reached in his pocket and pulled out a card and handed it to Phillip. Phillip looked at the letters and numbers. Plain and simple. Like those of children when they’re first learning to write. It was Mark’s name and number. “If I’m out, you can leave a message,” Mark said.

Just then Mark’s friends came out and stopped. Mark made introductions.

“This is Scott,” Mark said about the weight-lifter guy. “And this is his lover, Doug.

This is my friend Phillip,” Mark said to Scott. “I’ve told you about him.”

“Only for the entire last week,” Scott said. Then he turned to Phillip and smiled. “It’s nice to meet you finally,” he said, extending his hand. There were introductions and hand shaking all around. Scott and Doug excused themselves and walked off down the sidewalk. Phillip looked at Mark.

“Well I guess you’d better go.”

“Yeah, I’d better scoot.”

But instead they stood awkwardly on the sidewalk, neither making a move to leave. Phillip reached up and hugged Mark and tried to give him a kiss, but Mark turned his head away at the last minute.

“I’ll give you a call, OK?” Mark said.

“Sure. You have my number.”

“And now you have mine.” Mark turned and walked away. Phillip stood alone on the sidewalk and watched Mark hurry and catch up with his friends. He watched as they all started walking more slowly. Scott clapped Mark on the shoulder and then leaned close and said something into Mark’s ear. Mark reached up, shoved Scott away and they all started laughing. Phillip watched as Mark draped his arms over Scott’s and Doug’s shoulders and they all walked down the street and then turned the corner.

The door to the bar opened and Chloe and Jack appeared.

“So?” Chloe asked.

“He had to leave…,” Phillip said, still looking down the sidewalk. “He said he’d call me.”

Chloe patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s go home, tiger. Tomorrow’s another school day.”

Jack wished them a good night and they all left.

When he got home, Phillip checked and saw the blinking light on the answering machine. He reached out with one finger and pressed the Play button. The tape rewound with a whirr, clicked, and then the machine started to speak:

“Hey, it’s me, Mark. I don’t know if you remember me, but we met Sunday night. Listen… uh…some friends of mine and I are gonna be out tonight. If you don’t have anything else to do and can come by, I’d …uh… love to see you again. I have to go out of town for a couple of days, so I’ll be gone this weekend and…” There was a long pause and then the message continued quickly “Well, anyway, I hope I can see you tonight. Bye.”

Phillip stood for a minute and then reached out and pushed the rewind button. The tape whirred and clicked. He pushed Play and listened to the message again.

And then again.

He stood at the end of the piano, staring down at the answering machine and listening to the quiet hum of the air conditioner and the low growl of the traffic a couple of blocks away. He smiled.

“Come on Siegfried, let’s go to bed.”