The Swan of Tuonela - 9. "Come ye thankful people, come..."

“So does Scott cook?” Phillip asked into the phone. He was talking to Mark the Monday night before Thanksgiving. Scott and Doug always invited Mark to Thanksgiving dinner, and this year they had included Phillip as well. Phillip was trying to decide whether to cook and bring something, and if so, what.

“Some,” he answered. “But I don’t think much. They usually just buy one of those packaged lunches from the cafeteria.”

Phillip laughed. “Well then they definitely need something homemade. I was just thinking that I might bring something.”

“Oh, that would be cool. I’ve told them what a good cook you are.”

Phillip considered. “Well, there was a casserole my mom always used to make for Thanksgiving and Christmas. It’s very southern – lots of butter. She always used to say that anything that didn’t have a stick of butter in it, it wasn’t worth eating. So that’s the kind of food I grew up on, as you can tell by looking at my waistline.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your waistline.”

“Right. That about a thousand hours of crunches wouldn’t improve,” Phillip answered, slapping the recipe box lid closed. “OK, I’ll make that. I’ve made it for years. It’s pretty hard to screw up.”

*  *  * 

When Mark came in the back door, Phillip was standing at the stove when Mark came in the back door. Phillip’s manager had told him to leave early since it was the day before a holiday, so he’d been home all afternoon. But since it was the busiest travel day in the year, Mark had had to stay late at the airport and hadn’t gotten off until after nine. He came into the kitchen and put his arms under Phillip’s and hugged him. Phillip shook him off.

“What?” Mark asked.

“I’m making my sauce.”

Mark looked over Phillip’s shoulder into the pan. “It looks like gravy to me.”

“It’s not gravy, it’s a bechamel sauce,” Phillip said, holding up the wooden spoon threateningly.

“Is this the thing for tomorrow?” Mark asked, taking Phillip’s hand and guiding the spoon back into the pan. He stirred the contents a couple of times.

“Yeah, one of them. I’ll put them together tonight, and then they can just heat the casserole up tomorrow and spoon out the desert

“Desert? I thought you were only making one thing.”

“Well, I saw this recipe, and I thought it might be nice for desert.”

“What is it?

`“Pumpkin Mousse. Oh it’s not faggy,” Phillip said, seeing the look on Mark’s face. “It will be fine. Are there going to be any others at the dinner.”

“Probably not.”

So what does Scott do?

“He’s an accountant somewhere downtown.’

“That doesn’t sound very gay.”

“It’s not. His clients are always giving him free tickets and trying to get him to go to the Men’s Club.

“He doesn’t go does he?”

“Oh yeah. He thinks it’s a blast.”

“A titty bar? He thinks that’s fun?”

“He thinks it’s a hoot. He pretty hard do miss, and he has to take clients there all the time so he knows all the dancers. They start coming on to him, and he always gives them big tips so of course all the other guys he’s with do too. He thinks it’s a big joke on his other guests, and the girls make really good money. They love him.”

“OK, I guess there’s some amount of retaliation in there somewhere. What about Doug?”

“Now, Doug’s another story. He’s a buyer for one of the chain stores, I forget which. He’s pretty busy every time market’s in town, and otherwise he flies around a lot staging shows and stuff. They had a hard time staying together when they first got together because of his schedule, but they seem to have reached some agreement or something.”

“So was it a hard day at work?”

“Yeah, the night before Thanksgiving always is. And the traffic was terrible.”

“Did you get a chance to eat?”

“Not really, but I’m not hungry now, just really tired. I’m going to go get out of these work clothes,” Mark said, walking away.

“OK, well, I still have a little bit left with these two.” Phillip combined the casserole ingredients into a pan, covered it in foil and lined up several cans and small cartons and spinning the lazy Susan in the cabinet, grabbed a couple of tins of spices. He consulted a note card once more before dumping a couple of cartons of whipping cream, sugar, and vanilla into a bowl and then turning the mixer up. As the cream began to thicken, he opened a large can and dumped the contents into a pan, turning the heat on underneath. When he turned back to the mixed, he noticed Mark, shirtless and in cutoffs. He was leaning against the door facing with his arms over his head. The kitchen was Phillip’s domain; Mark didn’t enter unless invited.

Phillip pulled the small shoot of hair just below Mark’s navel. “Here, make yourself useful and stir this?”

“Ow. Stop it,” Mark said, walking into the room. “It looks like boiling peanut butter. Are you making cookies?”

No, it’s pumpkin pie filling. Just be careful and don’t let it boil. It will pop all over those lovely abs and I’d have to lick it off. And of course, after the filling was ruined, we’d have to find something to do so the whipped cream didn’t go to waste. Phillip looked at Mark lasciviously.

Mark held up the wooden spoon in defense. “Can I please go put on a shirt?”

“OK, come here,” Phillip said, reaching over and grabbing an apron off a hanger. “Come here. No, turn around.” Phillip tied the strings around Mark’s waist and turned him around. The cloth covered his waist and chest but not his shoulders or arms.

“Well,” Phillip said appraising Mark. “If you get tired of grease and oil, you could always go to work for Chippendales.” Mark looked at himself and posed and grinned.

“OK, that’s enough Fabio,” Phillip continued, “Just go back to stirring like you were. Only a couple of minutes more, and we can stop and let it cool. Then just fold the cream into it. Once this is all done, we can stop. I’m sure there must be some kind of pre-game football thing you want to watch.”

*  *  * 

The next afternoon, Phillip and Mark drove over to Scott and Doug’s house. Mark and Doug parked themselves in front of the TV watching a football game, while Scott and Phillip worked in the kitchen to get the food ready and out on the table. Finally when lunch was ready they all sat down. Scott had managed to secure quite a spread and even made the green bean casserole himself. As everyone reached for their napkins, Scott reached across the table and took Doug’s hand in his. They both took their wine glasses in their free hands and raised them.

“I think our guest, Phillip, should give a toast.”

Phillip was surprised but then recovered and lifted his wine glass. Mark, not being a wine drinker, lifted his iced tea glass.

Phillip thought for a moment, looked around the room, “OK… so let’s give thanks for old friends and new friends; old lovers and new lovers.”

Everyone applauded and then drank. Scott pulled Doug close and gave him a quick kiss on the shoulder. Phillip reached over and pulled Mark’s hand up and kissed it too. Scott and Doug, who had watched this, started clapping again. Mark blushed. Phillip blushed. Scott reached over, started dishing out turkey and dressing and passing plates around.

After the meal was over, Mark and Doug sat in the living room, engrossed in yet another football game. Phillip was in the kitchen with Scott. They were wrapping up leftover turkey and otherwise putting food into plastic containers. Phillip was standing at the sink washing utensils and plates and putting them in the dishwasher. He felt a tug on his arm and moved, thinking he was in Scott’s way. But Scott pulled his arm and turned him around so they faced each other. Phillip leaned against the sink.

“Look,” Scott said quietly. “I know we’ve only known each other for little while, and you and Mark are really none of my business…”

Phillip was silent. Scott turned and looked first out into the living room where Mark and Doug were watching the TV and then back at Phillip.

“But there are some things I want you to know.”

Phillip waited and watched Scott’s face, wondering where this conversation was going. “I’ve known Mark for almost ten years. We knew each other in high school. I was a year older and lived in a neighboring town, but our schools played football and basketball against each other, so we knew each other from tournaments and things.” He paused for a moment and checked the living room again. There was a commercial on, and Mark and Doug were arguing about something. Scott looked back. “Did you know that his parents kicked him out of the house when they found out he was gay? He’s been on his own for the last ten years.”

“No,” Phillip said. “I didn’t. He didn’t tell me.”

“I’m not surprised,” Scott said. “Mark is a very private person. If you’re wise, you’ll respect that. There are things that happened to him in his life that he will never tell anyone. Even you.”

Phillip nodded. “How did it happen?”

“I really don’t know.” Scott said, shaking his head. “Like I said, he’s a private person. He never told me. I know his parents are some big religious nuts or something.”

Phillip was quiet, his head down, thinking. “So how did you two end up being friends?”

Scott was silent, considering how much to tell.

“Well, I figured out I was gay while I was in high school. Even in east Texas we got TV shows and movies and stuff, so I eventually figured out who I was and what I wanted. And since I played sports and everything, no one suspected or hassled me, and I left it that way. I knew what was in front of me and I just bided my time until I could get out of that podunk little town. And I finally did. I came to Dallas and got on with my life.”

Phillip waited.

“Then one night I was at the disco. It was a Saturday night I think and it was very crowded, so at first I didn’t notice Mark. But on about the third loop of the club, I finally saw him, this cute young kid I’d never seen there before. He was standing back in the dark against the wall. I guess he was waiting for someone to ask him to dance.” Scott paused for a moment and then shrugged. “Or maybe he was just waiting for someone to talk to him. Anyway, everyone was walking by, cruising him, but he didn’t even notice it.” Scott shook his head, remembering and then stopped and smiled. “He was very hot, even then.”

Phillip looked at the floor.

“So I started walking up to him. And as I got closer, I recognized him. And he looked up and recognized me. He suddenly got this look of horror on his face and looked around for some direction to go. I called out his name and told him to wait and he froze. He was so obviously terrified that I’m still surprised he didn’t bolt.” Scott stopped and looked into the living room at Mark and Doug. Evidently their side had just scored because they were yelling gleefully and slapping hands together.

“So anyway, we talked for a long time. Eventually, the club closed, and we went for breakfast. Then we came back to my place and talked all night. The sun was up when he finally left.” Scott looked at Phillip and then looked away. “And yes, we slept together a few times. But he’s really not my type, and at the time, he had more baggage than I wanted to deal with. So beginning with that night, we became friends. And I guess over the years, I’ve turned into the older brother that he never had. He always told me every time he had a crush or every time he dated anyone or anything.”

“And have there been many ‘anythings’”? Phillip asked. “I mean, I don’t care if he’s had lovers before, I just want to know what I’m up against. I don’t want to make the same mistakes they did.”

“No lovers, not really,” Scott said and looked across the kitchen. “Except for this one guy, Ken.” Scott’s face became hard and his eyes black. “God, he was an asshole.” Scott spoke with venom. “If he were here right now, I’d put my fist through his fucking face.”

Phillip looked at Scott’s arms and could imagine him easily putting his fist through someone’s face. Scott went on, coldly.

“He treated Mark like shit.” He paused. “But he was older, attractive, smooth talking, and had money…”

Scott looked at Phillip and then quickly said “I don’t mean that to sound like Mark was attracted by the money, he wasn’t. I think he was just attracted to someone who paid attention to him, someone who cared about him,” Scott said quietly. “Or so he thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Mark was working really hard then, holding down two jobs and putting himself through school. He’d spend the weekends with Ken and then work and go to school during the week.” Scott paused and then shook his head. “He thought Ken was really proud of him for doing that.”

“And he wasn’t?”

Scott jerked his head and snorted in disgust. “Ken didn’t give a shit about Mark. Ken didn’t give a shit about anyone but Ken. He just told Mark things to keep him on a leash. All he wanted was a steady fuck lined up for the weekend. During the week, he was out screwing anything he could get into bed with him.” Scott paused. “I thought it would kill Mark when he finally found out.”

Phillip watched as Scott opened his eyes and looked out the window. After a while, Scott looked back at him. “So all those things you said at dinner. About new lovers and stuff…” Scott stopped. “If you don’t really mean them, don’t say them. Just break up with him now and get it over with. If this is just a game to you, if you’re just playing around, please just put a stop to it now…”

Scott stopped and then turned and looked for a long time into the living room where Mark and Doug were pointing at the TV about something. Finally he turned back and looked at Phillip. “Because if you ever do anything to hurt Mark….”

Phillip looked into Scott’s eyes. They weren’t hard, but they were very serious. “You’ll put your fist through my face…?”

“I might. It depends on what you do.”

Phillip looked away and closed his eyes and thought about Mark getting kicked out onto the street and having to work two jobs to put himself through school and being treated like shit by some asshole. He looked into the living room at Mark with Doug, both of them laughing at the TV. At first he smiled, seeing the happiness in Mark’s face; then he looked away as he felt his anger rise. But Phillip looked at the floor and clenched his jaws and after a while, he swallowed it down. Scott watched Phillip’s reaction closely. He reached up and squeezed Philip’s shoulder.

“Listen, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to get all serious and dump this on you. Look, as far as I can tell, you’re an OK guy. God knows Mark certainly thinks you are.” Scott laughed. “Even though I thought I’d have to chain him to the telephone and stand over him with a whip to get him to leave you a message.” Phillip smiled and Scott continued. “But I wanted you to know his story, and I knew he wouldn’t tell it to you.”

Phillip could hear Mark and Doug in the living room yelling again at the game. It was evidently half time. They had gotten up and had started walking toward the kitchen.

“You don’t have to tell me that Mark is very special,” Phillip said quickly. “I already know that, and the last thing I want to do is hurt him.”

“So what are you two conspiring about?” Mark asked as he stood in the doorway, smiling. Scott watched Phillip look at Mark. Then, as Doug reached into the refrigerator to get another beer, Scott reached over and squeezed the back of his neck. “We’re not conspiring about anything,” Scott said easily. “I’m just getting the recipe for Phillip’s casserole.”

                                                            *   *   *   *

On the way home, Phillip was quiet and listened to the song on the radio in Mark’s truck and thought about what Scott had told him. Mark was humming along with the song and slapping his hand in time, softly on the steering wheel. Phillip peered at Mark’s face silently.

“What?” Mark said finally. “Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m not staring at you.”

“Yes you are staring at me. Stop it. It’s creepy.”

“OK, I won’t look at you,” Phillip joked. “I’ll never look at you again.” He turned and dramatically looked out the side window.

They rode along in silence. Finally Mark spoke.

“Well, it’s just that you’ve been quiet the whole way back, and now you’re staring at me. Is something wrong? Did I do something? I didn’t mean to ignore you, but Doug and I were watching the games.”

“There’s nothing wrong,” Phillip said, turning back from the window.

“You’re sure?”

“Mark, there’s nothing wrong.”

They drove on in silence. They descended a hill and then crossed a long bridge over a lake. Phillip looked out the window to see the full moon reflected in the water. Eventually, Mark reached over and squeezed Phillip’s knee. Phillip turned back and looked at Mark. Mark kept staring out the windshield at the road ahead and after a while, smiled.