A Way With Words - Diary entry
The memoirs are going slowly because Ennis has been distracted at home. This entry was originally in instalments at the beginning of the last few chapters. But for coherence these present-day diary entries will be posted separately. This one has been edited for clarity and completed.
March 3, 2013
We had a weird trip into New Hampshire last weekend. Jack had received an email from a guy who had bodybuilding magazines from the 50s to sell. He'd found them stashed in boxes in the house of his dead great-uncle. Jack had a Skype session with the seller so he could see what kind of shape the magazines were in and to make sure the guy wasn't a nut.
I got a look at the guy when Jack was talking to him. Young, 22 at most. Thin, shy. Hair a mess. The mags were pristine.
He lived over two hours north of Boston, so we decided to make a weekend of it and stay in a hotel near the White Mountains and do some cross-country skiing.
The house was out in the countryside. When we pulled into the driveway, the kid was dragging cardboard cartons from the garage.
Jack knelt on the concrete and sorted the magazines efficiently into piles, muttering, “Excellent, excellent.”
The guy looked at Jack, then at me, back to Jack. Back to me.
"Could I watch you sometime?"
Jack didn’t look up, just said, "Sorry, you'll have to find your own way in this business. Took me a while to get to know the market."
Another proposition. It's always either for a threesome or to watch. But I have a price of admission that no one's ever been ready to pay.
"Only if you wear a dress."
Jack looked up at us, said, "Dennis has a thing for guys in skirts."
"Not a kilt, though," I said. "Cut on a bias and with a bold pattern. Bright colors."
Now Jack was standing up and grinning at the guy. "And no makeup, but please do something with your hair."
"Don’t worry about shoes,” I said. “You'll be the one lying on the bed."
"We'll keep our clothes on and be doing it against the wall."
The kid blinked once. "Okay."
Jack and I looked at each other. Now what?
Jack bought most of the magazines. He peeled some fifties off a wad of bills and handed them to Robbie.
"Tell you what, we're going skiing this afternoon. We’re gonna find a hotel in Gorham, stay the night and head back to Boston tomorrow. Here's my card. If you still wanna do this, text me. If Dennis still wants to do it, I'll tell you where we are."
The kid went through a funny transformation while we stood there, but I think only I noticed. As he watched Jack count out the cash, his skinny body sort of relaxed. After he took the money, he put a hand to his wavy hair like he was trying to smooth it. Jack gave him a smile. He likes helping people.
The last thing Robbie said to us when he was pocketing Jack's cash was, "Guess I better go shopping."
Great Glen Trails was too family-friendly for the thoughts I was having. The first time I ever went cross-country skiing was with Kaj, at a place north of Toronto. I hadn't thought about that day in years, not since the first time Jack and I went skiing together, and even then I didn't dwell on it.
We were both quiet all afternoon. Jack kept checking his phone for messages but he didn't look eager. This thing we were going to do, for him it was just to satisfy his curiosity about my skirt obsession.
The hotel had a restaurant and we ate there. Because the menu looked good. Because we were too tired to go wandering around looking for another place. But really, so we could go up to our room right away if Robbie called.
Jack's phone chirped while we were choosing dessert. He looked at the screen, then at me.
"He says he's in town. You still wanna do this?"
All day I'd been imagining that young guy in, alternately, a green and gold lungi and a flowing, flowery skirt. I didn't want to touch him, just look at him. I sort of knew why. It wouldn't really be a threesome.
I nodded. If nobody else ever said yes, I'd kick myself for saying no.
Jack tapped out a reply, telling him where to find us.
Ten minutes later, Robbie walked into the dining room carrying a paper grocery sack. He'd washed his hair, so it looked blonder and thicker, though still untamed. I wondered why he didn't just cut it, but I was glad he hadn't. I was starting to realize who he reminded me of.
When he sat down at our table, Jack pushed the rest of his apple pie toward him.
Robbie was twenty-three. He'd done two years at UNH, but when the recession bit down hard his parents' business failed and there was no money. There was no work for him either, so he'd moved in with his grandfather's brother, who was alone and had cancer.
"Did he know you're gay?" I asked.
Jack said, "Did you know he was gay?"
Yes and yes, but they didn't talk about it. He wasn't out to his parents. Though now that they couldn't help him financially anyway, and the uncle had left his house to him, he might as well tell them.
He looked at Jack. "We saw your video on YouTube. Looking at funny cat videos was Uncle Ernie’s favorite thing toward the end. When the kittens knocked over the pile of magazines, he pointed at them and said, 'Garage'. After he died, I went out there and found those boxes."
He finished the pie and put down the fork. Then he picked up the paper bag from the floor. "You want to see the skirt?" he said to me.
Jack looked at me.
"We don't have to do this," I said.
Robbie shrugged, said he wanted to.
We went upstairs to our room. Robbie went straight into the bathroom and shut the door. Jack and I stood at the window, watching the snow falling. We turned when we heard the bathroom door open. I couldn't believe my eyes. The skirt clung to his narrow hips then flowed out and ended below his knees, just as I'd hoped for. Big green jungle leaves on an ochre background. He had on a tight, black V-neck t-shirt. When he moved toward the bed his walk was natural, not self-conscious at all. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, facing us, bare ankles crossed, his hands braced on either side of him. He looked at us expectantly.
His hair bothered me. It needed tying back. The drapes in the room were held apart with satin cords. I slipped one off. When I walked toward him with it in my hand, I saw his eyes widen and then look to Jack.
"He won't hurt you," Jack said.
Jesus. Given our last experience, I couldn’t help thinking it was also a warning for me. It hit me that he was barely older than my kids. What the fuck was I doing?
"I just want to watch you kiss."
I froze.
"I can see all the rest online. Not two guys who really love each other making out."
"Yeah, we can do that." I hadn't heard Jack's voice soft like that in a long time.
I said, "Wait a minute."
First of all, of course we "really love each other,” but how did he come to that conclusion? And kissing in front of anyone was something we'd only ever done once. I glanced over at Jack, who raised his eyebrows at me. His expression was challenging, not doubtful. Why did the idea of this stranger watching us kiss bother me so much?
But as I stared at Robbie sitting there, he looked more and more like Evelyn. And I knew that what I really wanted to see happen, it just can't be staged.
The overhead light went off. Next second I felt Jack's hand on my arm.
"C'mere, you."
The room wasn't totally dark, because of the streetlights and the snow. Jack pulled me backward into the dimmest corner. I saw Robbie was sitting completely still, watching us. Half his face was in shadow.
I didn't resist when Jack took me in his arms, but I was tense. My back and thighs reminded me that I'd been using different muscles that day. Robbie's fluid movements had reminded me that I'm fifty. How does Jack manage to look younger than me even though he's a year older?
He put his lips to my ear and whispered, "This remind you of something?" I couldn't think what he meant, until he hummed the first notes of Over the Rainbow.
I chuckled, remembering, but stopped almost at once. "Shit. I don't like to think about that night."
"Why?" Jack's stubble was scritching against mine. "You're gonna have to, eventually," he said when I didn't answer. "Which part are you working on now?"
When I said, “Just before Jay found out,” he whispered, “Lot left to cover, then.”
I kissed him to stop further comment. He was primed to go; he sucked in my tongue, ground against me and I could feel him getting hard. I started for his belt, but then a sound from the bed reminded me we weren't alone. Jack wouldn't let me pull away. We were wedged into the corner; he pressed into me and moved his hands to my face. But he could feel I was distracted. He broke the kiss and brushed his lips across my cheek.
"I think he has daddy issues," he whispered.
Hell, don't we all? My old man sure was a case. For years an angry SOB, then overnight a singing marshmallow.
I guess Jack heard me snort. "No love from his father. Uncle closeted and dying..."
I held him tighter. "Huh. So we're too old to be hot?" I figure it's true for me, anyway.
I felt his lips turning up in a smile against my skin. "Didn't say that." Suddenly he kissed me again. But just when I was forgetting Robbie was there, Jack broke the connection. He said, "I remember what it meant to me when-"
The bedside lamp went on, startling us. It's a testament to the times, I guess, and our longevity, that we didn't spring apart but clung together. Robbie was reclining on his side with his legs folded under the skirt.
I said, "You mind? We're having a discussion here." I was sort of joking, but I did want to know what Jack had been recollecting. Still don't. Guess he's going to make me wait, too.
"That's the problem. Too much talk." Robbie didn't actually sound annoyed, though. He smacked his thigh and said sassily, "This skirt was fucking expensive and you ain't even gonna look at me?"
I blinked at him. Something in his tone had sparked a memory.
"Yeah, Ennis, I wanna know what the deal is with you and skirts," Jack said.
Rob rose up on one hand. "Ennis?"
Jack corrected himself right away: "I said Dennis."
But I got flustered and said more than I meant to. "My first boyfriend used to wear a… a sarong. And… and I knew this guy in London… this girl, I mean, who was wearing that kind of skirt when… Shit, it's a long story."
I turned away from Jack and looked out the window, remembering other things. The night before we left for New Hampshire, I'd been writing about the day Jack and I cycled together along the Charles in '88 and saw those two little girls on bikes wearing impractical skirts and clearly not giving a shit. And I thought of Kaj, getting me to come over to put my foot on his thigh, hitching up his lungi… and then the way he bullshitted that Bible-thumping roommate of his. And finally Eve, cock-blocking that straight guy.
"Wait, who was this?" Jack asked. "What happened?"
I turned back to him and couldn't help smiling. Alles klar.
To me, at least.
I said to Robbie, "Move over and make room."
He scooted backwards to the edge of the mattress. I slid the back of my right hand down Jack's flat belly and under his belt while I used my left to flip it out of the buckle. I got a smile from him, which made my fingers work faster. But I only loosened his belt, didn't go any further. I looked over Jack's shoulder at our little witness.
I said, "You wanna see how two old married guys go at it, then?" His confused expression proved it's going to take a few years for the new mental images to settle in for a lot of people. When I looked again at Jack, his eyes were full of humor and delight. I felt so free for once.
I grabbed his shirt in my fists, pulled him to me and growled, "This remind you of anything, Jack Twist?"
He looked surprised for just a second, then started to play his old What if? game. "Yeah. Too bad you didn't try it in '87 instead of waiting two years for me to-"
I wasn't in the mood for it. I turned us around and pushed Jack against the wall and kissed him hard. I heard a little intake of breath from the bed.
Funny how you can tell a young gasp from an old one. Just that one small sound and I stopped feeling free, but like a father. Robbie might not be my kid, but he was still a kid even at 23 and that responsible streak in me flared up. And in the next second, resentment at the luck he has to be young and gay now and not back when it was so fucking hard, and why isn't he just coming out already? Then I was aware of Jack's body so warm and alive against mine. Alive when so many were dead, and they died with no one daring to touch them.
I sagged against him, breaking the kiss.
"Hey, forget all that," Jack whispered. That is the thing about longevity -- you become a mind reader. He pushed me back gently and pulled me around to the bed, sliding onto it first so he was between me and Robbie. I stretched out next to him, propped on my elbow, and kissed him again, softly this time. That's what the kid really wanted to see anyway.
Jack refused to let the sad into our scene. He opened his mouth and kissed me deep. I have to admit it was pretty arousing having someone watch us. I could see out of the corner of my eye that the skirt was tenting in an unwomanly way as we necked.
"Now tell me about the guy or gal with the skirt in London," Jack murmured when we broke for air.
So between kisses I explained how I met Eve, and how she'd looked and what I saw her do at the party in Camden Town. Saw Jack's eyes go wide when he realized he'd met her in Berlin and had no idea she was "all man down there" -- I slid my hand inside his jeans as I said it. Robbie's breath was getting ragged, though he wasn't touching himself.
I unzipped Jack's jeans and let him out. Started stroking and whispered in his ear, "Lift his skirt."
Jack's hand drifted toward the boy and tugged on the skirt, dragging it up. Another gasp at that and then it was our turn to be startled: Robbie's erection was flat against his belly, held in place by lacy red panties. Jack snorted softly; he told me once that Lureen used to wear that kind of thing. He always had to pretend it turned him on. But the sight of it slipping down Robbie's lengthening dick sure did something for me, alright. I rolled off the mattress, stood and stripped off my jeans. Jack and Robbie both watched my dick jutting almost straight out, and that kid's slack-jawed gaze on me was stirring as a feather. But I wasn't going to fuck anybody.
I crawled onto Jack, pushed up his shirt and licked down his chest with the tip of my tongue. When I got to his belly, I saw his hand reach toward Robbie. He grazed one finger up that boy's dick, which was still touching his stomach even without the support of red lace -- ah, youth. I heard a little moan from Robbie. Between that finger stroke and the show I was putting on for him, he wasn't going to last long if Jack took him well in hand. I felt the fingers of Jack's other hand threading through my hair the way he likes to do. Got to his beautiful cut dick and kissed the head, heard two oh gods, felt a yank on my hair. Gave Jack attention from my whole tongue with one eye on his thumb swirling the slick on Robbie's tip. I was doing myself by that time, hard as a rock which is not an everyday thing anymore. When I saw the kid grab Jack's forearm, I decided enough was enough. Went deep on Jack, hungry for him. Same time his hand closed firm around Robbie and they both groaned, spunk shooting onto my cheek and down my throat and into my fist.
The kid made a mess of my face, shooting long after Jack and I were done. I heaved up and dropped down into Jack's arms, both of us huffing like marathon runners. He rubbed my back, but with only one arm. I turned my head and saw the boy was on his back, eyes closed, Jack's knuckles stroking his cheek. I squeezed my own eyes shut and tried to push down the sourness welling up, not opening them when I heard Robbie sit up and pull off his shirt. A moment later I felt cloth daubing at my face; Jack was cleaning my cheek and jaw with the black t-shirt. I relaxed.
Jack's snores woke me up. I was on my side head resting on his shoulder, both of us still on top of the bedspread. Raised my head and saw the snow was coming down hard. Robbie was asleep under the covers, his back to us. I reached over and nudged him.
"You better get on back now, before the snow gets too deep." I spoke softly, trying not to wake Jack.
Robbie rolled onto his back. "I hitchhiked here."
I breathed Fuck!
"Can't I stay?"
"I'll drive him home," Jack said, opening his eyes.
I said I'd do it, I'm better in snow than him. But he insisted. After they left I fell back asleep. When Jack came in again, it was three a.m. His hair was all wet. It felt like he'd been gone a good long while, but I couldn't be sure. I hadn't looked at the time when he left. I said automatically, "What took so long?" Whenever he goes away it feels like forever.
He snapped, "Got stuck in the fucking snow backing out of his driveway. We had to dig me out." That still bothers me. Why did he pull into the driveway if it was full of snow? Or did the car stay there a while?
I said, "Should've let me do it" when he was under the covers, letting me warm him up. He didn't answer, and that means either Yeah you're right or Fuck you, depending.
Chapter 55 >>