An Idol for Others (2 page)

Walter lifted the instrument from its cradle and pushed a button. He was aware of Tom and David drifting toward each other, and he heard them say something about California. He immediately felt a stab of jealousy. Alice answered.

“Tell Mike I’ll want him for a little while. I’m coming right down.” He tried to remember if there had ever been a hint of Tom’s being David’s “protégé,” in the latter’s special meaning of the word. He hung up hastily and turned to observe them. They were chatting easily; the room was once more filled with David’s golden dazzle.

“I thought you two might hit it off,” David said with his customary exuberance as Walter joined them. “I love you both.”

Walter weighed every word for innuendo, but David seemed genuinely pleased that the meeting had gone well. “You don’t mind if I leave you alone for a minute, do you, old pal? Clara and the kids will be here any minute. Tell them I’ll be right back.” He waited while the two shook hands. David made of their farewell a parody of flirtatiousness; Tom thanked him for having arranged the meeting. The urge to put his arm around Tom’s shoulders was very nearly uncontrollable. He longed to claim him, however briefly, before the inevitable renunciation. He allowed himself a light touch on his arm as he urged him from the room and down the hall toward the elevator. They weren’t likely to run into Clara here.

A door slid open, and they stepped inside, without their eyes meeting. Snugly confined together, Walter’s response to the physical presence at his side was so intense that he had difficulty breathing. The descent was mercifully short. They were out of the house and across the burning sidewalk and into the air-conditioned limousine without having exchanged a glance. Mike closed the door on them and moved around to the driver’s seat. Walter gave instructions. “All right, Mike,” he concluded, “you can shut us up in our cage.” A glass panel slid up, separating front from back. Mike lived with a third-rate prizefighter and was utterly trustworthy.

Walter settled back with a sigh and looked at his fellow passenger. Tom’s eyes were already on him. Walter felt the shock jolt through him again as eyes met, held, searched, accepted. Walter was almost hurled forward to hold what was his, but he remained motionless. A cuddle in the back of a car was unthinkable with the impressive young man who was so clearly his own master.

Walter took a deep breath before he spoke. “You know, of course, that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Tom laughed, a deep roll of mirth that relieved tension. “I know a lot about you, Mr. Makin. I promise not to believe a word you say.”

“Very wise, I’m sure; but it’s apt to waste precious time. Let’s pretend that I mean it and go on from there.”

“It’s quite a point to go on from.”

“If you know a lot about me, you must know that I don’t generally pursue young men, no matter how fascinating. It must be embarrassing for you to have an old gentleman of 50 carrying on like this.”

“At 38, I’m still capable of being shy, not embarrassed. Not with you.”

“That old?”

“I’d ask the same of you, except everybody knows how old you are. You’re having a well-publicized birthday.”

“Am I right in believing we’ve fallen for each other at first sight? Don’t bother, I know.”

“We both know. The strange thing is that I wanted you to fall for me, even though I know it can lead to absolutely nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Well?”

“Do you really
have
to go flying off this afternoon?”

“I’m not flying. I’m driving.”

“Really? Alone?”

Tom chuckled. “I’ve had an idea I might pick up a companion along the road. You’ve screwed up that romantic fancy.” He put his hand out palm down on the seat between them.

Walter covered it with his own and held it still for a moment. The contact felt so natural that, although it thrilled and touched him, it didn’t overturn his mind or unhinge his body as he had thought their first physical intimacy might do. A delicious throb of desire surged up in his groin. He turned Tom’s hand over and ran his hand across its breadth and down the long fingers and back so that their hands lay palm to palm and gripped each other, a promise of total union. “That’s one small part of you I fell for,” Walter said. “I’m queer for hands. That’s already more than nothing.” Tom’s eyes became grave, and Walter saw for the first time that they were guarded. He cleared his throat and hurried to consolidate the promise. “I want to spend my life with you, but we could settle for something more practical–at least for a start. Can’t you stick around for a couple of more days?”

“I could, maybe, but I’m not going to. Were you really in a gay bar when you heard you’d been voted Father of the Year?”

Walter winced. “Not exactly, but true enough to let it stand. I grasp your point. You’re wrong, of course. My interest in you has absolutely no connection with a pickup in a gay bar.”

“I’ll accept that, but what
does
it connect with?”

“All the things that matter most in life, I think. If we were in bed together, I’d answer that more fully.”

Tom’s eyes widened and pain sprang up in them. “Oh, no, Walter. Don’t do this. Do you expect me to ask you up to my room now? I probably would if you wanted me to, but I hope you don’t.”

“As far as I can see, there’s nothing about you I don’t want, but–well, no, I suppose not. Not like that. There’s no time. You’ve got to stay.”

“I can’t.”

“Stubborn, aren’t you?” Humor erased pain and created affection in the looks they exchanged. “All right. I’ll follow you to the Coast. I can make it in about a week. After all, it’s business. I’ll want to discuss the play with you after I’ve read it.”

“Now wait. Don’t play games with my work. I probably wouldn’t see you if you came. Look, Walter, let’s say it like it is. As I understand it, you’re straight, with a few gay fringes around the edges. I’m queer through and through and always have been. That’s all there is to talk about. I don’t see how talk will change it.”

“Talk won’t, but this feels like a good deal more than a fringe. How do you account for that?”

“I don’t have to. It’s your problem. It’s incredible feeling it working between us in spite of David. Nothing could’ve turned us off. It’s one of the most fascinating things that’s ever happened to me. Walter Makin, of all people, on the make for me. That doesn’t mean I can build a life around it. Frankly, that’s all I can let myself think about these days.” The grip on their hands tightened.

“I see. What about the companion you thought you might find along the road?”

“It never occurred to me I’d fall in love with him. Remember somebody called Mark? I talked a lot about you with him. I’ve always known you, Walter.”

The car slowed and drew into the curb. They were pulling up in front of the Gladwyn. Walter picked up the speaker. “Go on, Mike. Get caught in a traffic jam for another 15 minutes, will you?” He turned back to Tom. “Who’s been talking about me now?”

“Mark–Mark Travere. Don’t you remember him?”

“Oh, Jesus. You know Mark?” Memories. This young man had an unerring instinct for loosing the floods of guilt. “It’s impossible. That guy was more than 20 years ago.”

“Yeah. A long time ago. Not long after you knew him–1950? I run into him every now and then. He gave me my first glimpse of the wicked world. You were it.”

“Oh, lord, what was his verdict?”

“Beware of married men who are fatally attractive to boys. I didn’t know what he was talking about at the time, but it’s fairly obvious now. There’s this mad pixie quality about you. Not what you’d expect in a family man of 50. It’s ridiculous for me to fall in love with you, and yet …” His voice sank almost to a whisper. “Oh, my God. It’s all happening so quickly, and yet nothing’s happening. Fifteen minutes. No time to get heavy.”

Their grip loosened, and their fingers toyed with each other, intertwining, caressing, playing little games of pursuit and withdrawal. Walter indulged in similar intimacies–the touch of hands, a pat on the behind, a quick evaluation of genitals–with untold hundreds of cooperative youths encountered professionally. It was the heightened awareness of human connection that drew him, something beyond the banality of conventional sexual responses–a perilous exposure and an exaltation of being, part of his creative equipment.

It pleased him to think of it this way, and he disciplined himself to avoid surprises. He had almost believed as he spirited Tom out of the house that he would arrive at indifference by this familiar route. Now he felt himself sinking deeper into an impossible involvement. Could this be the involvement he had promised himself, for all these last long dead years, that he would recognize and accept if it ever happened? Under the circumstances, he didn’t know what he could do about it even if it were. He was busy. Tom was leaving.

He wanted to memorize Tom’s face. As he did so, he found with delight that there was no single feature that he considered beautiful. He wasn’t infatuated with a pretty face. His mouth wasn’t the sort that demanded to be kissed, although he dearly wanted to do so. His gray-green eyes were deep-set, which gave them their peculiar penetrating directness, but they didn’t melt or swoon as poets had found eyes sometimes did, nor were they shadowed with lashes that brushed the cheeks. His nose was straight. His chin was strong. His hair wasn’t quite blond and lay thick and smooth on his well-shaped head, curling slightly around his ears and neck. His fresh skin was stretched over bones with great economy, as if every detail had been carefully calculated and willed with nothing left over or superfluous.

He disengaged his hand and put his arm in back of Tom’s shoulders. He moved his other hand across to reclaim the hand he had momentarily relinquished. It was welcomed by caressing fingers. The confinement of his crossed legs became exquisitely strained. Coming so close to outright possession of the tantalizing body made it seem unnatural and inhuman not to go further, but everything about Tom commanded restraint. “Listen, I want you to tell me exactly what you’re going to do when I drop you at the hotel, and then I’ll tell you why you shouldn’t.” Feeling Tom’s laughter against him was a revelation; he wanted to hold him forever.

“Well, I’ve got to make sure my laundry’s back. That’s pretty exciting. Then I’ll have some lunch and pack and check that the car’s ready to go. I want to be on the road before the rush.”

“Is there any earthly reason why you shouldn’t do all those fascinating things tomorrow? You could come to the shindig tonight. You’ll have to listen to a lot of people saying what a genius I am, but I don’t think I’ll make too much of an ass of myself. As soon as it’s over, we can split, baby, as they say.”

“No, baby. If you think spending the night with me would help you get me out of your system, I’d love to oblige, but I can’t. I don’t want the knife in any deeper. The way things are now, I’ll probably cry all the way to California, but at least you’ve given me some new ideas about myself. If I went to bed with you and had to say good-bye, it would demolish me. I don’t think you understand what you’re playing around with. You probably can’t. Mark told me everything, you know.”

“What happened 20 years ago doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with now, but there’s no reason to suppose I’m less of a shit.” He withdrew his arm and straightened and put both his hands on Tom’s. “All right. I’ll be out in a week. For God’s sake, drive carefully.”

“What kind of a car are we in? I ask you now, to cover an awkward moment.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea. They told me the Rolls-Royce was too conspicuous, and ever since I’ve been riding around in this beat-up number.”

“It’s a tough life. I have to keep reminding myself how strange it must be to be Walter Makin. You carry an awful lot of weight around with you, don’t you?”

“Yes. A wife, two sons, God knows how many dependents, a house I can’t get into, a career I don’t seem to know how to stop. I’m no prize, I can assure you. But I can fucking well go to California if I want to. You’d better give me some pertinent addresses and things.” He withdrew a slim leather notebook from the breast pocket of his light jacket and poised a gold pencil over a page. Tom told him where he lived. “San Francisco, eh? It’s the place I like best in the USA, but of course I’m not allowed to live there. No films. No theater. A wasteland. When do I get the play?”

“David’s sending it to you. He’ll be back day after tomorrow.”

“David. How about David?”

“What about him? Oh, you mean–good lord.
David
? Our very own David Fiedler? Don’t be silly. I’m much too old for him. He likes fluffy young things. You must know that. Anyway, it’s mostly just talk. He really loves his wife.”

“Yes, David’s always been an original when it comes to people. I’m bound and chained to mine. Tom–Jesus, I didn’t realize what a beautiful name that is. Tom. Thomas. Tom Jennings. Do you suppose I could fall in love with you? That’s an absurd question and highly suspect because I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been in love in my life. No matter what you’ve heard, I swear to God I don’t go in for this sort of thing as a rule. Is there nothing I can say to make you stay?”

“No, Mr. Makin. I’m not going to let you demolish me.”

“Quite right. I wonder if you’re not going to demolish me. No matter. There’s really not much left to demolish. If you knew the whole story, you’d stay with me out of simple human compassion.”

“Christ, Walter. Don’t.” Their hands gripped each other until their knuckles went white. Tears brimmed up in Tom’s eyes. He grinned. “You see? It’s starting.”

The car came to a stop in front of the Gladwyn. The two were gazing at each other, both looking spent and distracted. The hotel doorman sprang forward to open the door.

“Just a minute,” Walter called in a voice accustomed to command, without taking his eyes off Tom.

“This
is
an awkward moment.” Tom’s grin became shy and touchingly young. “I don’t see how I can get out, if you know what I mean. I don’t want to show the entire world. I’ve got to arrange things.”

“You too? I should tear your clothes off–the hell with your scruples.” Walter felt that he was relinquishing his right of possession as he sat motionless while Tom thrust his hands into his pockets and sat forward on the edge of the seat and shifted about, arranging things. Why should they let anything interfere with their giving each other such easy pleasure? “Doesn’t it make a difference if I solemnly swear to come out next week? Wouldn’t that prove that I don’t just want a night to get you out of my system?”