Hidden Away (36 page)
The little girl begins to dance her way to her parents, who are still fumbling around with the ball. Kurt rounds third and when he awkwardly taps the brick with his foot, I’m so excited for his homerun that I wrap my arms around him. My momentum spins him.
I think we’re having a good time until he pushes away from me. Then it all crashes down around me. Something isn’t right, and he is upset. I can’t tell his expression because he’s turned away from me, walking to the garage. I glance back toward the house and see Flori and Jules, who is now holding Adéle, watching the scene with serious expressions.
By the time I turn back, I only catch a glimpse of Kurt’s foot disappearing into his little apartment. I look at Jules again, and he nods toward the garage.
He is sitting in his chair, palms flat against his thighs. “Nicht mehr,” he says, holding up his hand, so I stop.
I stumble over words, nothing coming out as my mind struggles to find the right thing to say. In the end, I simply go quiet. He’s yards away, and I want to be next to him, but I take a seat at his kitchen table instead.
I’m not sure how such cold words could contain so much fire as well, but his do. They feel
“I’m sorry, but I—”
“You promised you would be careful. Touching me in public is not caution, John. You’ll —”
I stand, as if ready to fight against the weapon piercing my body. “It’s not public. It’s Jules, Flori, and Adéle for Christ’s sake! They know what we are. Why hide it?”
“We were outside.”
“And?”
He brings his eyes up to mine. They feel just
as cutting as his previous words. “You don’t know who is watching.”
“Are we together?”
“Pardon—Excuse—I’m sorry?” His confusion is clear, and I might find it endearing another time, but I’m troubled.
“Are you with me?” I ask, then follow up with, “Because the other night, you slept in my bed, and we….” I stop, swallow hard, and think of what to say to this man. “I want to be with you. You make me feel things I haven’t felt before. You make things quiet, and I want to touch you, and hold you, and
love
you.”
He says nothing to the point where I think the conversation is over, and I turn to leave. I’m almost to the door when I hear, “If I am, do you agree to certain conditions?”
“Like what?” I ask as I turn to face him, hands in my pockets.
Kurt looks small and vulnerable right now, but there is a quiet strength in his voice. “You do not touch me in public. In front of other people, we are only friends. You do not tell anyone about our relationship. When we are outside together, you will not look at me for long periods of time. You will not—”
It isn’t until I begin to speak that I realize how tightly I’d been clenching my jaw. “I’ve been queer my whole life. I know the code of conduct.”
The irritation I hear in my own voice doesn’t affect Kurt. In fact, I don’t think he understands the layers of what I’ve just said because he returns with a simple, “Good.”
Good? The fact that I—that
we
—have to live by a silent rule book should infuriate him. It infuriates me that he is so quick to accept that our lots in life are to be hidden away, never allowed to express love openly. I know the way of the world quite well. I know I can never hold his hand as Jules holds Flori’s, but that doesn’t mean I am content to accept it.
“Then do you agree?”
His question brings me back to the situation in front of me. I drag a heavy hand over my face, smoothing down my perfectly smooth goatee. Do I accept his proposal of hidden companionship, or do I deny it simply because it isn’t enough of what I want? Can I live so concealed as he would like, buried? Can I live in such deep silence that I cannot even share any happiness I could feel with a trusted friend?
My mouth is dry, my body on edge. I am too sober.
“Where are you going?” he asks after I turn for the door.
To answer would mean explaining why I’m leaving, and I’m not sure I know the words to describe my emotions. Would any rational person agree to open themselves up at great personal risk to someone who has indicated he is not willing to do the same?
When I remain silent, Kurt says, “I wish to be close to you.” It’s stunted and staggered, and it’s probably taken a lot for him to say it, but I’m not in the right frame of mind to acknowledge it.
“I have to go.”
The wooden legs of his chair scrape against the wood flooring as he stands. I take the last step to the door, place my hand on the knob, and shake my head. “I’ll be back, but I can’t talk to you about this now.”
The pain in his voice causes me to close my eyes. “Because I don’t know if I can do what you’re asking me to do.”
“I’m going to go, and we’ll talk later.” I don’t look at him before I leave his apartment. I don’t think my heart could handle seeing his face, so I try to make it to my truck as quickly as possible.
“Is he—”
“I don’t know,” I repeat louder.
Inside the cab of my truck I feel safe, and within an hour I’m at the bar, the alcohol weaving a protective cocoon around me. After a few more drinks, I hope Charles shows up. He always has good advice, and he can help me get home.
I blink. The man next to me comes into focus. It’s not Charles. This man has light brown hair and deep brown eyes. It doesn’t take a genius or a sober man to realize what he’s after. I imagine myself taking him home, skin on skin, instant gratification, strong hands, deep voices. My body tightens as I turn toward him. “Hi.”
“Why are you all by yourself?”
“Because no one’s sitting with me.”
The corner of his mouth lifts up and he raises his hand to the bartender, then makes a gesture to indicate he wants another round for the both of us. He waits until the drinks are delivered before he asks, “So why is no one sitting with you?”
His chuckle is low and soothing. He takes a pull from his bottle of beer, eyes never leaving me. With a twist of his body, his entire focus is on me. His knees are on either side of my legs when he places the palms of his hands on my lower thighs.
Even though this is an establishment filled with homosexuals, I know it is an action Kurt would never do. It’s easy to let this happen. I want it. We’re as open as we can be, but as he leans over, presumably to either whisper something into my ear or kiss me, the lack of true intimacy hits me.
I could take him home. He’s attractive and attentive and guaranteed fun, but I’m not invested in him. There would be nothing but tonight, which would only boil down to a few hours at most.
His lips are soft and gentle against my kiss. I open my eyes and see how very public his display is. My head begins to spin. It doesn’t matter how easy it would be to be with this man whose name I don’t know, because I no longer want it.
His expression shows his confusion, but he doesn’t stop touching me. “Don’t be sorry. How are you getting home? I could—”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry.”
He brings his hand to my forearm and steadies my wobbling body. “Perhaps next time I see you, we can—”
Somehow I extract myself from the situation and leave the bar. I’m barely aware of how I stumble home, but as I almost crawl up the steps to my porch, I wish Kurt is in there waiting for me.
Tonight’s dream is still set in Dachau, but instead of killing German soldiers, I watch Kurt with his commandant. It’s the worst dream yet because I’m inactive. I try to move, to stop what’s happening, but I can’t. I’m stuck staring at a man abusing Kurt.
When I wake, I waste no time getting clean and sobering up. I’m at Kurt’s apartment before the sun rises. When he opens the door, it is evident by his night clothes and the sleep in his eyes that I’ve woken him. He blinks at me as I step through uninvited.
The door closes behind him, putting us out of view from the world. I take his head in my hands and kiss him. He doesn’t kiss me back and fear rises up within me. Maybe I’ve waited too long, and he’s changed his mind completely. The threat of continued loneliness eats away at me. “Just be with me, and I promise to keep it all a secret if you want.”
“You have so much to lose,” he whispers. I love how soft his breath is against my whiskered skin.
“I’d give it all up for you.”
“Don’t say that. Please don’t.”
I carefully maneuver him so his back is against the door, and I kiss him again until he pushes at me. Reluctantly, I move back, ready for his rebuke.
Hands shoved in my pockets, I stand there waiting for whatever is going to happen. Suddenly, he’s gripping me. I am still, letting a frenzied Kurt have his way with me. He’s kissing all over my face: lips, cheekbones, chin, jaw, ear, neck. No patch of skin is left untouched.
It is fantastic. I want so badly to spring into action. I’ve never done this before. Never let someone else determine the pace and passion.
I clench my fists to keep myself from grabbing him. This unseen side of Kurt is too fascinating to interrupt, even though I’m so excited I can’t see straight. The awkward tension of just moments ago is gone. All I want now is to have him against the wall, on the floor, in the chair, on the kitchen table, the bed.
is a delicious tension in my body as we sit together on his bed. We did nothing more than kiss and touch, but it was perhaps the best couple of hours I’ve ever had. I’m perfectly content until he rises up. “Where are you going?”
“I must get ready for work.”
I look at my watch. “Damn. Shit. Damn.” “What is it?”
“I forgot about class.” His brow pushes together, and he’s about to say something, but I stop him with a hand cupping his cheek. “Don’t worry. It’s not major.”
“Shhh. Don’t worry about it. If I leave now I can be there for most of it. Besides, this is the point where it really doesn’t matter how many classes I attend. It’s all about—”
“You’re putting yourself at risk.”
I sigh. “Back to this already?” I lean in and kiss him. “I agree to your conditions, but you have to agree to mine.”
“Just one: Stop it with the self-sacrificing to protect me. I’m a grown man, Kurt. I’m completely capable of—”
“I know,” he interrupts, “but I can’t help it. I feel for you, and I don’t want harm to come to you.”
I leave, I think of Kurt all day. I see him every day for the next week. We spend our time at my house. It’s more comfortable for me. The Spartan feel of his place puts all the focus on the silent violin, and thus, on Peter. Although he is not alive, he is still competition and can still come between us. I wouldn’t dream of asking him to forget his first lover, but it is better that Kurt is not surrounded by his memory when we’re together.
Each day, Kurt relaxes a little more. There are plenty of awkward moments in which neither of us knows what to say or do, but slowly, we’re learning.
Knowing everything he’s been through, I can’t figure out how physical to be with him, but feeling the excitement he creates in me, I can’t stop myself from testing how far I can go. So far it has been light touches on his face and arms, kisses on his cheeks, lips, and neck. I get hard at the very smell of his skin and want to sink deep within him.
Tonight after dinner, when he doesn’t make a move to leave as he sometimes does, I kiss him. It’s gentle at first, then a bit needier after he eases into it. Before long, my body is demanding and it manifests through the urgency of my lips on his. I’ve been pressing him back, walking us closer and closer to the bedroom.
Without thinking, I circle his wrists with my fingers and draw his arms above his head, his back against the wall. His hard breathing matches my own. I bury my face in his neck as I use my body to limit how much he can move. In my mind, it is innocent, but as I hear a choking sob next to my ear, I realize how it’s making Kurt feel.
As if he is fire, I let go and back away. Kurt doesn’t look at me; he just makes a dash for the bathroom, closing the door with a hard slam. I hear the lock click into place. It sounds less like a simple door lock and more like a prison gate closing between us.
I begin to panic, my skin flush and sweaty, as if he’d never come out of there. The risk of losing him completely forces me to the door, hollering his name. When he doesn’t answer, my fists beat against the wood of their own accord. There is no particular rhythm to the banging, but it’s familiar, and suddenly I’m sucked back to a time when I heard machine guns every day.
I silently curse him because I don’t want the krauts to advance toward us. Even though we have weapons, so do they. I’m scared out of my mind that I won’t see my mother again. Jim is large and likes to joke about how big of a target he is, but I’m the dope standing next to him. The bullets that don’t hit him will surely hit me.
I can hear the pops in the distance and convince myself that I can hear the whiz of the bullets by my ears. My belly is knotted with anticipation. I know there’s more intense battle ahead. This is nothing more than the beginning. The moment before we can actually see who we’re fighting.
