Читать книгу When You Don't See Me - Timothy James Beck - Страница 14

“I don’t like men who dress as women,” the waitress said as she slammed our salads on the table in front of us.

When she walked away, I noticed that Martin was looking down at himself with bewilderment. Although he’d once made his living as a female impersonator, tonight he was just Martin, dressed in black from his cashmere sweater to his faux combat boots.

“Did I overlook a spot of stage makeup?” he asked, tilting his head to the right, then to the left so I could examine him. When I shook my head, he called after her, “I’m a dancer!” Then he shrugged and pushed his lettuce around with his fork.

I didn’t know if the waitress had put him off his food or if my choice of cheap restaurants made him feel like he was slumming. I’d secretly hoped Martin would suggest a better place, giving me the opening I needed to tell him that I was now jobless and nearly broke. Even if Martin didn’t offer me a loan, he talked to Daniel several times a week. The news would eventually get to Uncle Blaine. Considering that our most recent contact had been my appeal to be kept out of Fake ID Jail, Blaine probably needed time to cool down before he and I actually talked.

“And you dance so well,” I said to Martin. “Thanks for the ticket.”

“The show is crap,” Martin muttered. “I always swear I’ll never let another aspiring choreographer persuade me to dance in a fresh, steaming pile of it. Then I do.”

I pretended I couldn’t talk because of a mouth full of tomato, but I agreed with him about the gloomy musical I’d just squirmed through. Asphalt and Battery was the story of Edward J. de Smedt, a Belgian immigrant who invented asphalt. Among the places it was first used was Battery Park, and according to the show’s Playbill, Edward’s ghost felt guilty about his role in the “proliferation of automobiles, urbanization, pollution, and global warming.” Most of Martin’s time onstage had involved a dance in which he unrolled bolts of black fabric until it covered the floor, the backdrops, and the props, before he finally smothered all the actors with it. The last had gotten the most enthusiastic applause of the night.

“What’s that?” Martin asked, looking at my wrist.

“This bracelet? Do you think that’s what the waitress was talking about? It’s a man’s bracelet,” I said defensively.

“It’s gold. You’re not a gold person. Silver or platinum. I shouldn’t have to explain these things to you.”

“It isn’t mine. The clasp broke, and I had it fixed for my roommate.”

“Julio?”

“Roberto.”

“What happened to Julio?”

“There was never a Julio. His name is Roberto.”

“I remember when I was the new boy in town,” Martin said, staring into the distance as if watching a newsreel of the olden days. “I crashed anywhere I could and had a constantly changing cast of roommates. And jobs. I was always broke.”

“Me, too,” I said, thinking that was as good a segue as any.

He focused on my face and said, “Maybe you should let your roommates pay for their own jewelry repairs.”

“It wasn’t much,” I said, on the defensive again. “Besides, Roberto buys all the groceries, especially since I lost—”

“Maybe Julio was one of my roommates,” Martin cut in, his eyes glazed over again. “He was allergic to MSG and swelled up like a puffer fish whenever we got Chinese takeout. Wait. That was Wing Lee.”

“Someone named Wing Lee was allergic to Chinese food?” I asked. I could never tell when Martin was serious.

Instead of answering, he continued to reminisce. “Wing Lee’s boyfriend, Yu, also lived with us. It made answering the phone problematic. ‘It’s for Yu!’ ‘Me?’ ‘No, Yu!’ Or I’d yell to Julio, ‘It’s for you!’ and Yu would pick up the extension. It was like Abbott and Costello.”

“Who?” I asked.

Martin glared at me and said, “Is that some kind of age crack? I’m only twenty-six.”

I knew for a fact that Martin was at least thirty, but I said, “I thought you were twenty-two.”

“Yes, four years ago I was twenty-two, but aren’t you sweet for thinking so? Maybe I should tell people that. If I thought I could pull it off, I would.” He paused. Then his face cleared and he said, “I’ll just say I’m twenty-three.”

It seemed cruel to distract Martin from his favorite topic: himself. But these were desperate times, so I said, “I wouldn’t normally ask you to meet me on a Thursday night, but I’m in kind of a bind, and—”

“Is this Thursday?” Martin interrupted with a horrified expression. “I think I had a date tonight.” He jumped up. “I’ll take care of the check on my way out.” He mimed the “call me” signal as he backed away from our booth. I saw him thrust cash at the waitress. Then he was out the door. As a frantic tactic to avoid being hit up for money, it was still a more graceful dance than the one he’d performed earlier onstage.

The waitress stopped at my booth, looked around, then scooted into Martin’s place. After I blinked at her a few times, she said, “I’m guessing he wasn’t leaving me a huge tip for two house salads and water, so he must want you to have the change.”

“How much did he give you?” I asked.

“A fifty. You made out okay, even if he dumped you.” She pushed the fifty across the table toward me.

“He didn’t dump me. We weren’t on a date. He’s a friend. How come you insulted him?”

“It’s not an insult. Lots of good men dump their dates.”

“We weren’t on a—I mean when you said you don’t like men who dress as women.”

“Oh, jeez, him?” When I nodded, she rolled her eyes. “Everybody thinks everything’s about them. It was the end of a story I was telling the busboy. He was right next to your booth and I was staring at him while I spoke.” She looked at someone behind me and blared, “I’m on a break!”

“Lucky me,” I said. Since she showed no sign of leaving, I asked, “What was the story?”

“If you can believe it, it was about a time I got dumped.” When she saw my face, she said, “Yeah, I know. He didn’t dump you because it wasn’t a date. Mine was a boyfriend and a Halloween party in college. Barry went as my roommate, Holly Waisenhaus. She had long, lanky red hair and nerdy glasses. She always wore a green-and-brown-striped sweater. She looked like a beetle. Barry got a wig and some glasses, and I snuck the sweater out for him. He was a big hit at the party. Why didn’t I get it? Why didn’t I know that imitation is the sincerest form of ‘I want to ditch my girlfriend and fuck your brains out’? They live in Connecticut now. They have a duck pond and three kids, and I try to make decent tips in a diner. Bastard.”

“I lost my job,” I said. “Plus I almost got arrested for using a fake ID.”

“Oh, I see,” she said, looking irritated as she slid out of the booth. “You’re one of those guys who only pretends to listen to other people so they’ll feel obligated to listen to your problems. I don’t need a tip that bad.”

“Why are people always doing that to you?” Roberto asked later as we lay in the dark. Or what would have been the dark if there weren’t two or three cop cars at the entrance to the alley behind our building. Our room was bathed in flashing lights. If we’d had a disco ball, we could have danced the night away.

“Doing what? Getting pissed off at me?”

“Confiding in you.”

“It’s the way I look.”

“Like you’ve got a face that says, ‘Free therapy’?”

“More like a body that says, ‘I can’t outrun your story of devastation and ruin.’ I should put on weight. Work out. Get muscles and look menacing. Like you. Nobody ever tells you hard-luck stories.”

“Except you,” Roberto said and giggled at himself. His giggle was endearing because it was so at odds with his virile appearance. “You didn’t have to get my bracelet fixed.”

“I’m the one who stepped on it,” I said. “Martin rebuked me for wearing gold.”

Roberto laughed again and said, “It’s my Guido bracelet.”

The bars on the windows provided a shadowy contrast to the flashing blue and red lights. In Eau Claire, that kind of show would have lured the entire neighborhood out of their beds. People in robes and slippers would have gathered in groups until everyone knew every lurid detail. Now I couldn’t be bothered to get up and look out the window to see what carnage lay at the end of our alley.

“You know I can cover your part of the rent,” Roberto said.

“I’ve got money for rent,” I assured him.

What I couldn’t tell him was that I didn’t have the money to cover Kendra’s part of the rent, because she was short a few hundred dollars. I didn’t want him to think that I’d asked him to move in because he was my only financially solvent friend. Besides, Roberto’s extra money went to his mother to help feed and clothe his younger brothers.

I heard him sigh, always the last thing he did before he fell asleep. One long sigh; then his breathing would deepen and keep the same rhythm for the rest of the night. He never snored. He never snorted himself awake. Sometimes when I couldn’t sleep, it pissed me off the way he could just drop off and stay that way until his alarm woke him. But mostly, it made me feel comfortable. Like a sleeping giant lay between me and whatever was out there.

The drama in our alley finally played itself out, and the lights went away. I closed my eyes and focused on breathing the way Gavin had taught me. Gavin was not only the man who took care of Uncle Blaine’s household; he was a massage therapist who was big on the proper way to breathe. And on drinking water.

I tried to remember if I’d drunk my mandatory eight glasses of water for the day. My throat felt dry. My skin itched. I held off as long as I could, but I finally got up to slink into the kitchen. I wasn’t afraid of waking Roberto, but I didn’t want to draw Kendra or Morgan out of their room.

I drank a bottle of water, then made it back to my bed without having to deal with my roommates. A half hour later, still wide awake, I got up again to go to the bathroom. Kendra waylaid me in the miniscule hall.

“Did you get the money from your friend?” she whispered. “Because if you didn’t, I’m totally screwed. I wrote a bad check today.”

“I didn’t have a chance to ask him,” I said. Her face fell. “Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.”

“No, it’s not your problem. Maybe I can get my boss to loan me money.”

According to Kendra, her slimy boss at Manhattan Cable was always making passes at her, so I didn’t think that was a good idea. “He’ll take it out of your paycheck. Then you’ll end up short the next time rent is due. Just give me another day, okay?”

She nodded and furtively dissolved into the Snake Pit.

After crossing Martin off my emergency loan list, I decided to call Jeremy. As Daniel’s ex-boyfriend, he’d be just as effective as Martin in getting the news about my destitution to my uncle. I’d only hesitated to call him in the first place because Jeremy’s opinion mattered to me more than any of Blaine’s other friends.

Jeremy shared a big farmhouse with his lover, Adam, in Eau Claire. It was hard to believe my parents lived in the same town; their worlds couldn’t have been more different.

My father worked long hours to be able to afford golf and alcohol on the weekends. My mother worked to be anywhere but with him. Neither of my parents was ever at home. The last time I’d gone back to Wisconsin for a holiday, I’d overheard Tony making fun of Chuck for living at home while he was in college. Chuck explained how sweet the setup was. He and his buddies had the run of the house and all its features. The monster TV, DVD player, stereo, computers, pool table, fully stocked kitchen, and my parents’ housekeeper to pick up after them. Girls came in and out, and kegs were set up on the deck. My parents generally steered clear as long as Chuck didn’t break too many things. It was like living in a frat house without the hazing or the lumpy mattresses.

Adam and Jeremy, on the other hand, both worked from home. Adam owned his own business and put in as many hours as my father, but he was always doing things for other people. He designed free Web sites for artists. His computer company sponsored stuff like AIDS walks or breast cancer benefits.

Jeremy was an actor. He’d even starred in a sitcom in the nineties. But when he moved to Wisconsin to be with Adam, he went to graduate school so he could be an instructor in UW-Eau Claire’s theater department. He also took classes in counseling and mentored teenagers.

That was how I’d met him, when I was still in high school. I was part of an acting workshop that gave peer support to at-risk teenagers. The only way I was at risk was possibly dying of boredom in Eau Claire. I hadn’t turned into an actor, but I had eventually come out to Jeremy. He was the first adult I trusted with the truth, and he’d never let me down. I didn’t want him to think I’d turned into a big loser.

Unfortunately, when I called the farmhouse, I only got Adam’s assistant. Adam and Jeremy had escaped Wisconsin’s winter to go to some friend’s wedding in Acapulco. Great for them; bad for me.

I muttered a few vile things about Kendra under my breath and began gathering up my dirty clothes. For the cost of a cab ride to Hell’s Kitchen, I could use Blaine’s washer and dryer and get that bit of drudgery out of the way. By the time my uncle got home from work, maybe I’d be mentally prepared to throw myself on his mercy. Again.

Blaine and Daniel lived in an apartment in an eight-story building on Fifty-seventh. It was actually two apartments combined—one on the seventh floor, and another directly above it. There were two bedrooms upstairs: the master bedroom where Blaine and Daniel slept, and the room that Blaine’s daughter, Emily, used when she stayed with them. The dining room had been converted into their shared office. They rarely used the kitchen, unless they entertained. A terrace garden that had originally been accessible only from the master bedroom could now also be reached from their living room. The area provided the ideal setting for the small dinner parties they sometimes had.

I preferred the downstairs area. My bedroom had been there, as was Gavin’s. That living room had been turned into the entertainment room and included theater seating and a stereo system with speakers wired to every room on both floors. Gavin and I cooked meals in the downstairs kitchen, and Blaine and Daniel ate with us whenever they didn’t have other plans. The dining room table was the hub of the apartment. It was where everyone caught up, where all of us read over coffee or hot tea in the mornings, and where everyone but me had cocktails in the evenings. Even though there was a desk and a computer in my bedroom, I’d often done my homework or sketched at the table to keep Gavin company. His boyfriend, Ethan, was there a lot. It was fun to watch them flirt with each other, and they both spoiled me, so we were all satisfied.

“But it’s not real,” Fred had once said to me after we spent a Saturday afternoon battling each other on the PlayStation 2.

“That’s why they call it a game.”

“Not Ultimate Ninja. Your big gay family. The men are flawless. Their smiles gleam. Their eyes sparkle. The apartment is fantastic. Nobody’s broke. Everybody’s buff and healthy and white.”

“Ethan’s Native American.”

“You know what I mean. You never see anyone paying an overdue bill or taking a crap. It’s like a TV show about two gay couples and their rebellious teenage son. Except your rebellion is mostly limited to multiple ear piercings and slouching around in clothes they wouldn’t be caught dead wearing. Every problem will have a happy resolution in less than thirty minutes.”

Fred was wrong. We had problems, and they didn’t get worked out to a laugh track. But living with Blaine was still a million times better than my life in Wisconsin, right up until I told him I was moving out.

I walked into the lobby of his building with the duffel bag of dirty clothes slung over my shoulder. The concierge, a big hulking Greek named Stratos, smiled and waved me toward the elevator. At least Blaine hadn’t told everyone to keep his bad-news nephew out of the building.

When I reached for the number pad, my finger hovered briefly over the THREE. That was the floor where my little cousin Emily lived, and I hadn’t seen her since before I moved out. Then I chose EIGHT. Blaine and Daniel were never home during the day, and I could get the lay of the land before I went downstairs and faced Gavin.

As I shut the apartment door behind me and heard the synth-pop music pulsing through the apartment, I wondered if Stratos had called Gavin to let him know I was on my way up. I leaned against the wall and listened for a few seconds to what our household of men with very different tastes had called our peacekeeping music.

Daniel liked the classic divas: Cher, Madonna, Barbra, Judy, Bette, and Liza. They’d provided the soundtrack for his gig as a female impersonator when he was younger. Blaine preferred music without words. Techno, drum and bass, classical, jazz. Music that he could work or work out to. Only Blaine would endure Gavin’s tendency to put on New Age music. Even Ethan, who’d made a career of doling out spiritual advice and wisdom, preferred to indulge his inner sister and wail along with Aretha, Mary J., Queen Latifah, Oleta Adams, and Erykah Badu. Unlike Gavin and Blaine, Daniel liked Ethan’s music, but could barely tolerate anyone else’s.

Then there was me. When I’d first moved in, none of them wanted me to control the tunes, because they hated Eminem, Marilyn Manson, and Ozzy. Later, they refused to let me play Gorillaz. I could barely even get away with the Foo Fighters, White Stripes, or Bush.

The only music all of us ever agreed on was the Pet Shop Boys, and it was their Behaviour CD that Gavin was playing when I went in. It made me happy. Relaxed enough to put down the duffel bag and walk through the apartment. Blaine’s screen saver, the Lillith Allure logo, was the only thing moving. Daniel’s favorite coffee cup was on the table, but other than that, everything was immaculate. Parker D. Brooks would have loved it.

I went down the hall and glanced into Emily’s room. The marks she’d scrawled with her Crayons were still on the far wall, but she had new Hello Kitty bedding. This was apparently a recent interest and had replaced the original Beatrix Potter nursery furnishings. I thought of the years ahead and wondered if Emily and Blaine would go head-to-head about her tastes. Maybe she’d like the Pet Shop Boys, too.

It seemed rude to go inside Blaine’s and Daniel’s room when neither of them was there. And since I had no desire to go on the terrace, I walked back into the living room. Gavin was leaning against the half wall that hid the stairs, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hello, Attica,” he said.

I scowled and said, “They didn’t put me in jail for the fake ID. They didn’t even arrest me.”

“That may change if you’re starting a new vocation as a cat burglar,” Gavin said.

“Did I scare you?”

“I recognized the laundry bag.” He smiled, uncrossed his arms so he could hug me, and said, “Come on down and let’s get it started. Are you hungry?”

“No.”

I followed him down the stairs. Then I had to forcibly take the bag to stop him from doing my laundry. “You don’t get paid to take care of me anymore.”

“I never did it for pay in the first place,” Gavin said.

After I started the first load, I went back to the kitchen, pulled out a stool, and sat down. Gavin was filling pastries with some concoction. I didn’t want to break his concentration, so I studied him for a few minutes.

Fred was wrong. The men in Blaine’s apartment weren’t flawless. People who didn’t know Gavin might not even think he was handsome, especially if they didn’t like the features that went along with having reddish hair. Light eyebrows. Some freckles. Fair skin. He did have a good body, toned more because of stretching and doing yoga than putting in time at the gym.

I thought it was Gavin’s personality that made him attractive. He was always upbeat. Friendly. I liked it when he teased me because I knew it came from a good place. I watched the gentle way he nudged Dexter, Blaine’s cat, away with his foot so he wouldn’t step on him. Gavin took good care of everyone he loved, as I knew firsthand.

I watched him slice mushrooms and finally said, “Can I help you with anything?”

“It’s under control. What’s going on with you? Tell me about your roommates. Your new place. Your job. I hope I’ve been a great role model for your career as a domestic.”

I slid off the stool and opened the refrigerator. I wasn’t really hungry, but I couldn’t face Gavin. I didn’t want to lie to him, but I wasn’t ready to tell him the truth about being fired. He was being so nice. It made me feel guilty for staying away until I needed money.

I took out a container of yogurt and got a spoon before I sat down again. I told him about Kendra and what a sweetheart she was. Then I quickly launched into tales about her evil alter ego, Morgan. She and her snakes were always a good diversion. Plus it was satisfying to know that she’d hate being useful to me.

Gavin laughed about Lucifer and Hugsie and said, “My first boyfriend had a snake.”

“Is that the beginning of a dirty joke or the truth?”

“Truth. A boa constrictor named Squeeze. One thing I learned. Nobody fucks with a gay kid in the Baltimore suburbs when he walks around with a big snake.”

“That’s the stuff of after-school specials,” I said, scraping out the last of the yogurt. “Instead of trying to turn your kid straight, just let him pack a snake in his book bag.”

“Soon every school would have a snake detector at the door.”

“Too bad my apartment didn’t,” I said.

“Maybe Morgan’s like my first boyfriend. The snakes keep away people who might hurt her.”

“I don’t think Morgan can be hurt,” I said.

Gavin turned to stare at me and said, “I don’t mean to sound like Dr. Phil, but everybody can be hurt, Nick.”

“Don’t make me feel guilty about Morgan,” I said. “Let’s hear more about your first boyfriend.”

Gavin washed his hands, got a different knife, and talked while he chopped onions. “Allen came from Florida. That seemed exotic to me at the time. He was all attitude, tan, and sun-bleached hair. We were fifteen. Freshmen. He was out and proud from the first day he walked into our school. I’d never told anybody about the feelings other boys gave me, so even though I admired Allen, he scared me. If I hung out with him, people might figure out the truth about me.”

Gavin stopped and tilted his head toward the stereo speaker. We both grinned as the Pet Shop Boys sang “Nervously.”

“Is that the way it was for you?” I asked. “Two boys from different places, too shy to talk about it?”

“Oh, that first kiss,” Gavin said. “It’s always a killer, no matter the circumstances. On the weekends, everybody used to drive out to this abandoned chromium mine to drink or get high. Even kids too young to drive, like me and my friends, still managed to show up, hang around, pretend we were as cool as the seniors. One night, Allen was there with Squeeze. I don’t know what it is about girls and snakes.” He made a resigned gesture with his hands. “But Allen was surrounded by them. I knew that one way or the other, I was getting some alone time with him. I shunned offers of rides home. Outlasted my friends and the snake-loving girls. And finally it was just Allen and me and die-hard couples off doing what couples do.”

“Did you do what couples do?” I asked when Gavin paused to wash his hands.

“As it got later, the night turned cold. Allen was wearing a denim jacket. He took it off and sort of stretched it across both our backs. Which meant we had to sit close. I have no idea what we talked about. I doubt I made any sense. I was too dazed by being in such close proximity to Allen, with Squeeze covering our laps. When we both turned our faces at the same time and nearly bumped foreheads, he kissed me.”

“With tongue?”

“He had no choice. I was practically eating his face,” Gavin said and blushed. “That’s the first time I kissed a boy.”

“I was sixteen,” I said. “My stupid brother wasn’t outside when my mom came to pick us up from school. She made me go to the boys’ locker room to look for him. I never went near that place because I valued my life. But I knew she’d just keep sending me inside until I found Chuck, so I forced myself to go there. I caught Keith Lindblom, one of the track coach’s student aides, um, adjusting himself while he watched my brother and his friends horse around in the showers. I didn’t say anything to him. Other than could he tell Chuck our mom was waiting. But it freaked him out. He knew what I saw, and I guess he was afraid I’d tell the jocks.”

“You weren’t out yet?”

“No. Keith started making a point of speaking to me in the hall between classes. Forcing me to meet his eyes. Being all friendly. I worked in the audiovisual department of the library, and he came in one afternoon when I was putting up some equipment. He was acting all jocklike and shit, trying to pretend we were friends, hitting me on the arm. He was too gutless to ask me to keep my mouth shut. That provoked me. I trapped him against a shelf of videotapes and kissed him.”

“What’d he do?”

“He shoved me away and burst into tears. I felt like shit. For about ten seconds, until he grabbed me and kissed me back. Then he walked out, and we never spoke of it or went near each other again. Especially when Shelley Creighton told the whole football team I was gay a couple weeks later. I think your first kiss went better than mine. Especially if it led to better things.”

“I wouldn’t be a teenager again for a million dollars,” Gavin said. Then he looked at me and said, “Oh. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’d give a million dollars to skip nineteen. It’s good that no one can make that happen, because I’m too broke to pay up.”

“I thought you might be,” Gavin said. “Is that why you’re here? To ask Blaine for a loan?”

“Guilty. Do you think he’ll raise hell at me?”

“Not likely,” Gavin said.

“Really?” I asked, feeling more hopeful.

“It would be hard, since he and Daniel flew to L.A. this morning.”

“Fuck me,” I muttered. “I lost my job. I can cover my rent. It’s my roommate who can’t. I promised to help her.”

“The snake woman?”

“No. Kendra. Morgan is the snake woman.”

Gavin frowned. “You lost your job?”

“I wouldn’t put out for a client,” I said without elaborating, even though it made Benny the Whiner seem like a jerk.

“How much do you need?”

“Kendra’s part of the rent is five hundred.”

Gavin stared at me a few seconds, then said, “I’ll cover it. On one condition.” I’d known there would be conditions, so I just nodded and hoped it wouldn’t be too bad. “Be careful about who you trust, Nick. People aren’t always what they seem.”

“You mean like…Who do you mean?”

Gavin frowned again and said, “Never mind. Hey, I’ve been thinking about piercing my ear. Can you do that for me? Painlessly?”

I laughed and said, “Yeah, sure. It’ll cost you five benjamins.”