The Beat (6 page)

“He could have been. You just don’t know.”

“Looks like a classic case of doing the beats to me. And they’ll never catch the bastards who did it. The police don’t try over-hard. Don’t care. Another poof hits the dust, that’s all it means to them. It’s like sideshow alley to them, nothing more. Down goes another.” Gerry was looking a bit odd. Obviously he wanted Robert to be more discreet in front of Steve, but why should he? It was time people from Gerry’s work met Robert. Besides he was going to impress upon the kid the danger of the beats. It would be a bonus to know what kind of thing could happen. So on he went: “It’s hard for the police anyway. It’s motiveless crimes like this that go unsolved.” Gerry butted in, “We don’t know that it was motiveless. Anyway, Steve doesn’t want to hear all this. He’s got problems of his own tonight.”

‘‘Sorry I spoke,” Robert mouthed pertly. Steve sat feeling even more awkward. Even a lot of the language was unfamiliar to him. Nor did he want his troubles to become the centre of attention right now. He just wanted to drink his coffee and go. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Gerry. He felt wrong. He needed to be alone. Robert had given him some pastry thing and a cake fork to eat it with. He couldn’t use the fork and had shot crumbs all over himself when he tried. Gerry came silently to the rescue by using his fingers to eat his own. Robert noticed too, and felt guilty about it. Of course Steve wouldn’t use a cake fork. On the other hand he would have to learn to overcome such things. Sooner or later he would need all the social skills he could muster amid elements of the gay community. Let him start to build his survival kit now, amongst friends.

“Will you talk to your parents first?” Gerry asked. “Don’t know. S’pose so. Mum will be pretty cut up. She was pretty keen on being a grandmother.”

“Maybe you should just tell Sue.”

“I don’t know. I don’t s’pose you could sort of … ?” “No, I don’t s’pose he could,” cut in Robert. “You stay out of it Gerry. It’s up to Steve.”

“Yeah.” They sat on in silence. At length Steve said, “It’s a nice place.” The statement sat alone in the shared awkwardness.

“We’ve been here years,” Gerry said absently.

“It’s nice,” Steve repeated. Robert sensed he was the cause of the unease and considered finding another excuse to withdraw. He couldn’t see why Gerry was getting involved. He was prepared to bet the boy would make the same mistake he had and go through with the wedding. Then it was kids like Steve who ended up having to do the beats to meet someone. He couldn’t see what Gerry was getting uptight about. Steve was just the kind of kid who needed to be warned of the dangers it incurred, the kind of kid who ended up dead in the park with his mother pleading he was straight. At times Gerry was so prim about things like that. Warning Steve was surely best.

“You going to be alright?” asked Gerry.

“Yeah. I’d better be going now.” And he was on his feet to leave. Gerry guided him to the hall. Steve paused in the doorway.

“Is it OK if I talk to you again? After I’ve told her, I mean.”

“Sure. Of course. And Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“You’ll be alright?”

“Yeah.” He went. Robert heard the door close and was there in a moment.

“And what was all that about?” Gerry explained as well as he could. Really there was little to say.

“That’s what I thought,” Robert rejoined. Then returning to the kitchen, he proceeded to sing in bursts of falsetto, “I’ve got a crush on you.”

“What’s all this about?” Gerry asked at the door.

“Well, don’t you think he has?”

“Steve? Don’t be silly.”

“Why not?” And Robert leered suggestively. Sometimes Robert made Gerry feel such a heel. As long as he never knew about Friday night.

Sue arrived late for work on Wednesday. Her eyes were red and swollen. Gerry didn’t ask what was wrong. Tuesday had been full of talk of wedding cars. She had greeted him on his arrival, not with an inquiry about the previous evening with Steve, but with the words, “Oh Gerry, good news about the cars. You won’t believe it.” She had then gone on to explain she had found a hire firm that provided white Mercedes, complete with rib-bons and a chauffeur, for only $150 each.

“They’ll even match ribbons to the colour of the bridesmaids’ dresses if need be.” The man had been so nice. Three Mercedes with chauffeurs for $450, a real bargain. She would have to book early but it was such a find. Of course Steve would agree. He would get to ride in one after the ceremony after all. She’d always wanted to arrive at her own wedding in a white Mercedes. Gerry had resisted saying anything. He considered putting the cat among the pigeons by suggesting, “Have you thought about a Rolls instead?” It wouldn’t have been kind. If only she had had the sense to ask about the previous evening. If only she hadn’t been so blind to Steve’s feelings. It was going to make it doubly hard for both of them. He felt guilty knowing what was going to descend upon her. He was also worried about Steve. The kid might not go through with it. He wasn’t going to relish upsetting Sue. If he went through with the wedding it would only delay the heartache for Sue and increase it for himself, but people often goad themselves into easy solutions. Gerry had been supportive to Steve on the Monday night and Steve in turn had been sure what had to be done. But while it was one thing to have the support of Gerry, who knew what would happen once the pressures of his family and peer group were reapplied? Gerry had wanted to show him that to be homosexual was not the end of the world or even a form of social leprosy. Had he succeeded? Would it have any lasting affect? Conditioning was so strong. The worst part of it was knowing Sue. For her sake too it should be called off. Unfortunately she would never see it that way. The dress, the cars, the day, were all more important than the groom. He was only subsequential to the total. That was probably how things had got this far. No wonder he was prepared to “wait”. Neither were particularly interested in the relationship to follow.

And now it was Wednesday. Sue’s eyes were burnt and sore. What a pair they made! Gerry still feared Robert would find out about Friday. Robert would not under-stand. Yesterday’s papers had been quiet. It might still all pass by. A remark of Robert’s stuck in Gerry’s mind. Robert had said, “It’s motiveless crimes like that that go unsolved.” He had said it casually and perhaps he was right. If so, he need never know Gerry had gone out that Friday with the express purpose of being unfaithful to him. After ten years he had chosen that night. Now Gerry and five strangers shared in a conspiracy. After the blows of outrage, the silence of conspiracy. Yet he knew justice had been done. He believed there would be no further outcome. It had taken years of repression, and now there had been this backlash there would be no further reprisals. The act was complete in itself. Sue sat down at her desk and looked straight ahead. She neither looked nor spoke to Gerry. He said good morning to her but kept on working. He knew that sooner or later he would have to look up. He put off the moment. What couid he say? He wanted to look her in the eye and say, “It’s not my responsibility.” If he had broken up with Robert and it was him sitting there with swollen red eyes, what solicitude would anyone offer? With Sue it would be as public as the wedding plans had been. He couldn’t help feeling the difference. And it was that difference which made his loyalty be to Steve. Steve would need it around here. He was now on the outside too and they must stick together for support. Silent support, like six men quietly leaving behind an assailant’s corpse in a toilet block. The thought was ever with him. Sue sat there and did nothing. Absolutely nothing. He felt the pressure to look up. After a while she said: “If Steve phones, I don’t want to speak to him.”

“Alright,” he said and kept on working. She turned her swollen eyes on him and watched him in silence. Her heart was broken, her plans dashed, and Gerry just worked on. For that moment she hated the middle- aged queer. Her eyes fixing him, she said, “Don’t you even want to know?”

“No,” he said and kept working. She gazed around struggling for words. She couldn’t comprehend it. Gerry worked quietly. He knew her anguish; he just didn’t share it. No one had shared his. She must come through alone as he had. It was the law of survival that others had created for both of them. It wasn’t of his doing.

“I don’t, I don’t … believe this. You don’t even want to know.”

“I do know,” he said quietly and put down his pen. “I don’t want to know but I do. I can’t share your feelings, don’t ask me to.” He put his head down again and continued to work. She sat in a catatonic silence and he fought to isolate her from his own emotional state. One of them must work. He would carry her in that but in that alone. After a while he heard her thrust her desk drawer open. He heard it bang shut and a magazine being thrown into the waste-paper bin. It thudded heavily against the tin. He didn’t look up. He heard her chair squeak back and the rustle as she stood up to stalk off. He looked up only to see her retreating figure. Steve had obviously told her that the wedding was off. If only she could have grasped the totality of the situation. They were now both saved from the charade of a marriage that could have satisfied neither. In time she would still have her home, husband and mortgage. The sacrifice had been from Steve. He could have had a life of furtive, casual sexual encounters, with her sitting at home waiting for him to return each night. His security could have been her uncertainty and doubt. Instead he had opted to be the outsider. She would get all the support she needed to recover from the broken engagement. No one would want to understand Steve’s case. So Gerry was not going to be one more voice to comfort her in support of her heterosexual aspirations. The girl had never had to question a single value before in her life. If lucky, she would be cushioned by friends through this experience and come out as unaware on the other side. How lucky she was. Born to be shielded by her own naivety. What would be Steve’s buffer against the world? What had been Gerry’s? Life in minority was hard enough, he was not going to waste his support on his unconscious oppressors. It was the values of the Sues of this society that keep him alien. What did it matter to him if there was one more broken engagement? He could never have one to break. And Steve. He couldn’t win now. Not until society changed. He had leapt out of the frying pan, yes — but into a fire in which he did not yet possess the skills to survive. Steve would now have to learn fast. Gerry worked on. Half his brain worked on automatic, processing the chits before him. It was nine-thirty and Sue still wasn’t back at her desk. If Wilson came through he would be furious. Gerry reached over and pulled her pile of work towards him. He could get most of it processed quickly enough. He was a bit surprised to see quite how far back it went. She certainly had had her head in the clouds the day before. Skimming through it, it looked dangerously as if they would go over on the bookings again. There was nothing else for it but to get through it as quickly as possible. Ten o’clock and still no sign of Sue. She couldn’t still be in the toilets. Surreptitiously he left his work and started to make his way along to the toilets. He could at least get one of the girls to go in and see what had happened to her. As he passed Wilson’s office a voice called him in.

“Won’t keep you a minute Gerry. I’m sure you have lots to keep you busy. Just thought I’d let you know I sent Sue to lie down for a while. You can keep up on your own, can’t you?” Of course he could, but he would rather do it off his own bat, than as an order. After all, he usually did. At least nothing more was said about upsetting Connie. He had stoically not said anything to her and was expecting to be pulled into line again over it. When Wilson had called out, he had expected the worst. Still it was a bloody cheek the way they expected his support after Monday’s reprimand. Wilson had always been a sucker for a pretty face, as long as she was kept junior to himself. He reminded Gerry of a teacher he had once had, who used to let the girls stand on a chair to clean the blackboard. It made their uniforms rise as they reached up to rub the board and the old boy had relished every rise and sway. By morning tea time the whole office knew that the wedding was off. Both Pauline and Connie had been to tend to the needs of the shocked girl. Their diverse styles had ranged from, “He wasn’t worth having anyway love”, to Connie’s more dour, “At least she had one. She doesn’t want to end up an old maid.”

“Old maid my arse,” countered Pauline.

“Or worse,” Connie added pointedly, her eyes on Pauline’s rolls of flesh. Gerry was hoping to be able to stay outside of the whole affair but when he went into the tea room there wasn’t a space left for him to sit on his own. He had the choice of Neil or Pauline. Needless to say he chose Pauline. She was looking unusually solemn as she sat enveloping the chair beneath her humour-loving thighs. Between their thick, black lines her eyes were alert to all the gossip that filled the air. Old Gerry would be the only one not to know. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, as Sue claimed. Gerry just wouldn’t have registered. She sipped her tea and greeted him.

“You’ve heard about Sue, poor girl?”

“Yes, Steve told me on Monday evening.” The lines drawn around Pauline’s eyes were stretched apart with surprise.

“You saw Steve on Monday evening? Christ, I’d shut up about that round here. They’ll lynch you Gerry if they find out.” Pauline jumping in with her big mouth. She’d never acknowledged before that they all thought him queer. Now it had all popped out. He looked surprised.

“Oh, I’m sorry Gerry.” She shrugged her arms hopelessly and the flesh wobbled in echoes down to her reverberating chair. To her surprise he smiled.

“I don’t mind. I’m sure Connie would lead the lynching mob — but Steve? He’s not my type.”

“It’s strange, isn’t it? He always seems such a nice kid.” “Nice kids break engagements too.”

“Yeah, I suppose so. Only I’m a romantic, you know Gerry. Always believing in Mr Right.” He egged her on, “So am I.” She couldn’t help it. “Oh,” she squealed and down thudded her palms onto those famous thighs. People turned and looked. It wasn’t suitable behaviour on this day of grief. Austerity was the order of the day. Connie looked over.