Story Time |
John, Bill and Priscilla - Part Two by AJ |
This is the second half of one tale in a story cycle. By itself, it may not make
a lot of sense. Please read J,B&P part one before reading this piece.
I didn't see a lot of Bill for the next several days. I did find out what had
started the much- discussed brawl at the main doors, though. I found out that
the blue notebook I had noticed Bill writing in a lot was his journal, and he'd
written some things about me in there that made it clear how he felt about me.
One of Patterson's boys had stolen it from him that afternoon and read parts of
it, given it to Patterson, who then ordered the attack on Bill. His friends had
objected, and that was how that the scene that we had found got started.
But even while I was figuring out how to fix the problem with Bill, the second
thing happened: A new girl came to school.
I first saw her in the hall, coming out of the principal's office with the
school counselor. I was walking to my locker between classes, and Mr. Gerowski
called me over.
"Martin, this is Priscilla Belsar. This is her first day. Would you be kind
enough to show her to her next class? She's got geometry with Mr. Vikon. Miss
Belsar, this is John Martin."
"Yes sir, I'd be happy to. Hi, welcome to Ballard High." It was all I could
think of to say. She was tall for a girl, about 5'10" or so, with long brown
hair that looked kind of red in the light—I think they call it chestnut. Her
face and arms were a light golden tan, as though shed' been out in the sun a
lot. She was wearing a long, full skirt with the dog on the front that all the
girls wear; only her's had some kind of design stitched around the bottom in
bright colors. She had on a short-sleeved, kind of fuzzy sweater. Black and
white saddle shoes peeked out below her skirt. She was dressed like all the
other girls, but somehow it looked better on her.
She smiled at me shyly and then her eyes went to the floor, her hair falling
around her face. You know all that talk about acting fearless? It was all gone.
I couldn't think of a thing to say to her as I led her down the hall toward the
math room where her class was. I was still trying to think of something to say
when we arrived at the classroom.
"So, um...welcome to the school..."
"Yeah, you said that." I got a fleeting smile from her, which seemed to make my
throat lock up even tighter.
"Ok...well, I'll see ya later.... maybe at lunch?"
"I have no idea where the lunchroom is..." she murmured.
"Maybe I could meet you after this class and show you how to get there..."
"Thank you.... I'd appreciate that." She was still talking to the floor.
"Ok then...see you in a little while, right?"
"All right.... after class then." She blushed a little and walked into the class
without another word.
I don't think I heard a single word the English teacher had to say that period.
She was just talking about the parts of speech anyway—boring stuff. I had no
idea why this stuff was important so I tuned it out and thought about Priscilla
the whole class. When the bell rang, I leapt out of my chair and hustled off to
the math room to meet her again. I'd thought a lot about what to say when I got
there, rehearsing in my mind how to act normal, but when she walked out the
door, it all went away. I was reduced to an idiot again.
"Uh...hi...did you still want me to show you where the lunchroom is?"
"Yes, would you? Maybe I could drop off these books on the way?" She looked up
at me, and smiled, and I felt my IQ drop from idiot to moron.
"Ok, what's your locker number?" She fished out a slip of paper and looked
closely at it.
"Um...412, I guess."
"Oh...that's right over this way...it's next to my friend Georgie's. If we see
her, I'll introduce you."
"All right."
We walked in silence to where her locker was, her staring at the floor and me
wracking my brains for something to say.
"So... um, where are you from?"
"We just moved here from San Diego. My dad got a job with Boeing."
"Hey, my dad works for them too...he helps design their airplanes."
"Mine too."
She opened her locker, put her books on the upper shelf, and turned to me.
"So where's this lunchroom you promised to show me?" She was looking at me now,
seeming a little less shy.
"Um... right this way. Just follow me."
As I held the door open on the lunchroom for Priscilla, I saw Bill over near the
wall helping his friend Anthony up off the floor. The kid's lunch bag was lying
on the floor, his food scattered around it, and a couple of Patterson's friends
were standing there laughing at him. I noticed they hadn't touched Bill though,
and I smirked a little to myself. Bill's eyes caught mine and he smiled a little
sadly, then he turned away and he and Anthony walked to a table near the back of
the room. I was going to have to do something to make it up to Bill, I thought.
I still wasn't sure why he was so mad at me. I frowned.
Georgie and Stein were sitting at our usual table, with Zach Laine, Georgie's
steady of the month. He was the captain of the swim team—a good guy. As the two
of us walked up to the table, I saw Stein's eyes open a little wider when he saw
Priscilla. He scrambled up and pulled a chair out for her, ignoring the look I
gave him.
"About time you showed up, John. Who's your friend?" Georgie smiled at
Priscilla. She was my next-door neighbor, and we'd been friends since fourth
grade. Though she was really pretty, we'd never dated—I thought of Georgie as my
sister.
"Guys, this is Priscilla, she's new here. Priscilla, this is Georgina, and
that's her friend Zach, and this is my friend Jacob."
"Hi, it's nice to meet all of you."
God Bless Georgie I thought, watching her chatting easily with Priscilla,
smiling and laughing and drawing out details of where she was from, what kinds
of things she liked to do and giving her the rundown on the school. I saw
Priscilla's appreciative gaze for a moment when she found out I was on the
football team. How the hell does she do that? I thought, watching her sit and
chat with Priscilla like longtime friends.
Georgie and Priscilla had the next class after lunch together, so she agreed to
show Priscilla where it was. After saying good-bye to them, I looked around to
see if Bill was still there. He was just getting up from his table with his
friend.
"Stein, have you talked to Bill since the fight?"
"Naw, he's been avoiding me like the plague. What's going on with him anyway?"
"I don't know buddy, but I'm gonna try to find out."
"Want me to go with you?"
"Mm...no, let me try talking to him alone first."
"All right...see you in practice?"
"Yeah, I'll be there."
With that, I headed across the lunchroom to intercept Bill and his friend, who
were just leaving together.
"Hey John, how you doing? When's your next game?" Anthony didn't seem too
bothered to see me, but Bill didn't say anything.
"Next week, pal. You gonna come watch?" I smiled at Anthony, and he just beamed.
It was probably the first time a football player had talked to him in school in
his entire life.
"Yeah, I am. My dad's coming too..."
"Listen Anthony, would it be ok if I talked to Bill alone?"
"Um... yeah, sure..." He looked at Bill and got a little nod from him. "Ok
then...see ya later..."
So then it was just me and Bill, walking down the hall.
"So... how come you don't talk to me or Stein anymore, Bill?"
He wouldn't look at me, just stared at the floor, like he was fascinated by the
pattern in the tiles underfoot.
"All right, c'mon. We need to talk." I started down the hall toward one of the
exit doors, expecting him to follow me. When I didn't hear his footsteps behind
me, I turned and he was still standing there, looking after me.
"Well? C'mon...we're going to go talk somewhere a little more private."
"I can't, John. I have to go to class."
"Nope... I'm giving you a free pass for the next period."
"You can't do that..."
"I just did. Now c'mon. Forget class... it'll still happen even if you aren't
there."
"I am going to be in sooo much trouble..." he muttered, but he joined me and we
walked out of the building.
Just off school grounds, there was a little woodsy area...a lot of kids used to
go there and smoke during lunch break, and that's where we headed. I knew
everyone would be inside right now, so it was quiet and private. I boosted Bill
over the fence, then followed him over and led him into the trees.
"So what's going on with you? I thought we were friends? You plan on talking to
me and Stein ever again?"
"We are friends, John...we are. But I've been really busy lately and..."
"That's bullshit, Bill. I still remember what you said just before you left when
the fight happened, and you haven't said a word to me since."
"I was scared, John... you really scared me. I thought you were gonna kill that
guy, Patterson." He was red-faced, staring at the ground. I could see him
trembling a little bit.
"Naw, Bill...I wasn't gonna kill him. I just wanted to rough him up a little
bit, let him know it wasn't ok to pick on you. Has he or his goons picked on you
since?"
"No..."
"See? A guy has to look out for his buddies, Bill. I didn't save you in that
alley just to let some asshole give you trouble at school."
"Am I your buddy, John? You don't just like me 'cause I help you with your
homework?" He raised his face to look at me now, and I saw tears rolling down
his face, and that was when I realized how scared and hurt he'd been over the
whole thing. I'm not very smart, but I finally got it. There was something about
the way he looked at me just then that hit me hard, like a sucker punch in my
stomach.
"Naw, you're my buddy...I really like you." Like most things I do, I didn't
really think much about it, I just reached out and grabbed him and hauled him up
to me, intending to just give him a football hug—you know, arm around the
shoulder, slap on the back kind of thing. But that wasn't how it turned out.
Instead, he gave a little cry and leaped against me, wrapping both arms around
me and laying his head against my chest, sobbing his heart out. Almost against
my will, one of my arms went around his shoulders, cradling him close against me
and my other hand came up and stroked his blond hair. We stood like that for a
while, and then he raised his head to look at me and say something, but he never
got it out. I'd been standing there holding this beautiful boy in my arms, and I
don't know what happened to me, but it felt like I was holding a girl...that's
how I was feeling. So when he raised his head, I leaned down and kissed him,
right on the mouth. I felt him stiffen up for a moment, and then he just seemed
to melt into my arms, and his mouth opened and he kissed me back, and I kissed
him for what seemed like a long time, just savoring his mouth and feeling the
heat of his body against mine....and it was good. Better than any girl I'd ever
kissed. He was whimpering into my mouth when I finally came up for air.
He looked at me, his hair all tousled, his face flushed and red and his eyes all
soft and dreamy. He looked like a boy in love, and he confirmed it.
"I love you John...I really do."
"I know, Bill. I've known for a while now." I half carried, half dragged him
over to a nearby log and sat down, hauling him up on my lap. "C'mere." Then I
kissed him again, and our tongues wrestled in his mouth, mine eager and strong
and his equally eager but soft and receiving. I was hard as a rock in my pants,
and he was sitting right on it, but I doubt he knew what he was sitting on at
the time. I ran my hands over his chest and kissed him deep and hard until he
was gasping for breath, then he pulled away and laid his head on my shoulder.
"I'm sorry John, I shouldn't kiss you. I know you're just looking out for me,
trying to make me feel better. I just can't help it, you know?"
I chuckled a little, grinning into his hair. "No Bill, this has gone a little
beyond the point of just trying to make you feel better. I really like you. And
you're a hot kisser, you know? I could get used to that."
"Maybe you will," he murmured against my neck.
Some time later, we were walking back to the school and Bill was absolutely
glowing, holding my hand as we came up to the fence again. We'd said a lot of
things to each other there in the woods behind the school, and we knew where we
stood. I looked at him and stopped for a moment.
"You know that we can't let this get out at school, right?"
He looked at me and smiled. "I like other guys, John. That doesn't mean I'm an
idiot."
"I know. I think you're about the smartest guy I know. But it wouldn't go over
so well, you know?"
"Don't worry John, I'm not going to embarrass you. I love you, and that's
nobody's business but ours."
"All right. You coming to football practice to wait for me and Stein?"
"Yeah. And I'll bring a book."
"'At's my boy." I grinned and ruffled his hair, then boosted him over the fence
and climbed back over myself. We got back just in time for last class of the
day.
So that's how it was. I was back to spending a lot of time with Bill and Stein,
who was pretty happy to have the help with his schoolwork again. A lot of times
after helping us with our homework, Bill would stay after Stein left, and we'd
spend time together, talking about a lot of things, listening to music, and
kissing: lots of kissing. I'd discovered that his nipples were as sensitive as a
girl's, and when I played with 'em a lot, there were times he had to go to the
bathroom afterwards and clean up. In fairness, he'd opened my pants a few times
and I'd showed him how I liked to be touched; he learned fast and I'd made a few
clean up trips to the bathroom myself. So you'd think it would have all been
happy days on the ranch, right? But it wasn't, because something else was
happening too.
Georgie and Priscilla had really hit it off. And since Georgie was one of my
best friends, I was spending some time with her and Priscilla too. And I seemed
to be liking Priscilla and she certainly seemed to be liking me some too. So it
only made sense when Georgie asked if we wanted to double date with her and
Zach, me taking Priscilla. So it was decided that we would go to the Majestic
here in Ballard to see a new movie that had just come out called "Magnificent
Obsession" starring Rock Hudson. I think the girls just wanted to see it so they
could oooh and aaah over the star. I had a feeling I was going to be bored.
It was set up for the next Saturday night. I told Bill about it on Thursday. He
wasn't all that pleased that I was going out with some girl, but I promised him
the whole day Sunday, and that seemed to content him. I thought it might be a
nice evening to go to the beach at Golden Gardens, not far from both of our
houses, build a fire and have a beer or two. I smiled and told him to get his
homework done early (like he wouldn't do it Friday night). He laughed and
punched me in the shoulder. And then kissed me.
Zach borrowed his father's brand new Ford for the evening on Saturday, and we
drove to each of the girls' homes. I met Priscilla's parents for the first time.
Her father was a big, solidly built guy, a veteran of the war in Europe a few
years back. He'd met Priscilla's mother as a student in Rome before the fighting
in Italy, though she wasn't Italian but rather Romanian. He'd married her over
there, much to his family's dismay, and brought her back Stateside before being
drafted into the war. Priscilla had already been almost 2 when he left for
Europe again. Her father was a nice guy, talking football a few minutes while we
waited for Priscilla to come downstairs. Then she came walking down the stairs,
and I was breathless.
She was wearing a calf length full skirt like most of the girls did, but that
was where it ended. Her blouse was short-sleeved and completely covered in
bright stitching, made of a soft cloth that glistened under the lights. Her hair
was drawn back and up around the back of her head and then somehow rolled
under...later she said it was a French twist. A few wisps framed her delicate
face, still lightly tanned though the color was fading now. There was just a
little color to her lips, and a hint of rouge on her cheeks. She carried a tiny,
beaded purse in one hand.
After I recovered and heard the obligatory lecture from her father about having
her back home by ten pm, I walked her out to the car and held the door as she
climbed in.
"Wow, you look great Priscilla! Doesn't she look beautiful, John?" Georgie was
all admiration and wide eyes, looking at her friend. "Who did your hair like
that?"
"My mama," she said, giving it the French pronunciation. "She says its how they
wore their hair in Europe when they went out on a date; how she was wearing her
hair when she met my father." She blushed and glanced at me before looking at
the floor. It was then that I noticed a sweet aroma scenting the air in the back
seat of the car...a hint of carnations or something...light and flowery. Later I
found out it was a perfume called Bellodgia.
The movie was a boring as I thought it would be...a young Rock Hudson romancing
an older and somewhat reluctant Jane Wyman. The best part of the film was when
Priscilla slipped her warm hand into mine without ever even turning her head to
look at me. She held it all through the movie and only let go when the lights
came up at the end. The girls chatted on and on about the movie while Zach and I
rolled our eyes and snickered. It was a successful date, Georgie declared after
we'd dropped off Priscilla at ten minutes before ten. I walked Priscilla to her
door and she gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek, said a breathless goodbye and
went inside.
"So, what do you think of her John?" Georgie questioned me.
"Um, I thought she was nice," I said noncommittally. "She certainly looked
nice."
"Didn't she? I have got to have her mother do my hair like that sometime...it
looked so sophisticated."
"I like your hair the way you wear it, honey." Zach was nothing if not a
well-trained boyfriend. I wouldn't have expected any less from Georgie's chosen
man.
"Why thank you darling...I think that merits a kiss," she giggled and proceeded
to smack him on the lips.
I watched in admiration at the interplay...they were so comfortable with each
other. I hoped I'd have that with someone someday. 'Maybe a couple of someones,'
some devious part of my mind added. I looked forward to going to bed. Tomorrow
was my day with Bill, and my crotch tightened just thinking about it.
5.) Holding Pattern
So that's the way it was for a while. Now I was spending my spare time just
about evenly between Bill and Priscilla, and squeezing Stein in whenever I
could. It was a hard schedule, but next week was our last game of the season and
then football would be finished and I'd have more free time, so I was hanging
tough. Thanks to Bill, my grades were the best they'd ever been and that made my
parents happy, and kept them from questioning why I was spending so much time
with Bill. Stein was starting to date some girl named Carol something-or-other,
so he wasn't hanging out with us after school quite as much as he used to
either, which was fine with Bill and me. By now Bill had moved from using his
hand on me to using his mouth, which was the most amazing and wonderful thing
I'd ever felt, and I'd used my hand on him some. It was kind of weird, but not
all that different from touching myself, and I liked watching him as I gave him
pleasure. I didn't know if what I felt about him was love or not, but it was a
really big feeling and I wanted to know that he was feeling good too.
Priscilla and I were going out most weekends, and seeing each other a lot during
school. Most everybody there assumed we were steadies, and I don't think Georgie
did anything to discourage the rumors about us.
One Saturday, Bill and I were in the kitchen, cleaning up our dishes from the
breakfast I'd served both us. I know everyone says that cooking is only for
girls, but my mom always said a man should be able to fend for himself, so she'd
taught me the basics of cooking, and I'd gotten to be a pretty good breakfast
cook. So we were cleaning up the dishes and kind of giving each other a hard
time, laughing and bumping into each other, like that, you know? And he was
standing beside me at the sink and I was looking at him and it suddenly seemed
like kissing him would be a really good idea. So I grabbed him and laid one on
him, and he was giving back as good as he was getting, when I thought I saw some
movement outside one of the kitchen windows. I knew all of my family was out,
and would be for the next several hours, so dismissed it and went back to seeing
if I could reduce Bill to a helpless, wanting wreck just by kissing him. With
one hand on the back of his neck, and the other on his ass pulling him against
me, it seemed to be working just fine. We had a very nice morning together.
A few hours later, after Bill had gone and my mom had come home, I got a call
from Stein.
"Hey Martin, could you meet me down at the park in a little while? I need to
talk to you."
"Yeah sure. What's going on? Want me to bring a football?"
"Naw, just need to talk. Meet you in fifteen minutes?"
"Yeah, sure. No problem." I was a little surprised, 'cause we hadn't met just to
talk in a while, since we'd both gotten so busy. But I was kind of pleased for
the same reason. So I grabbed a light jacket and walked down the street a couple
blocks to the park where we always meet, and sat on one of the picnic benches,
waiting for him.
Stein arrived a few minutes later, looking a little out of breath, and
apologizing 'cause his dad had wanted to talk to him for a few minutes after
he'd hung up from talking to me. It's a couple more blocks for him to get there
than it was for me.
He came walking over and sat on the picnic table next to me for a few minutes,
seeming kind of out of it, like he was uncomfortable or something. I wondered
what was going on, but I knew the best way with Stein was to let him start.
Otherwise, he'd get all pressured and start blushing and shit. So I waited him
out.
"How long have we been best buddies, John?" he asked. He was looking at the
tabletop like it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.
"Since second grade when that kid tried to push your face in the mud and we
pushed his in the mud. Why?"
He looked up me then, and his face was red and he looked about as angry as I'd
ever seen him.
"Then why THE HELL didn't you tell me you've been doing Bill!?" he bellowed.
"What, you didn't think you could trust me, you schmuck face?"
"Jesus Stein, keep your voice down! Who the fuck told you I was doing Bill?" I
glanced around, but no one seemed to be around to overhear us.
"They didn't have to tell me John! I saw you with your hand on his ass and your
tongue down his throat just this morning in your kitchen."
"Aw fuck..." I muttered. I looked at him and didn't know what to say. He was
glaring at me, so angry I could see him shaking a little. "Listen, Stein, I know
what you think..."
"No, you listen Martin. I'm your best-goddamned friend. I've stood up with you
against anybody that tried anything with you, and you've done the same for me.
How many goddamned times has someone called me a kike, and you've stood up for
me? How many times have you been called a Jew-lover 'cause you're my friend?
Huh?"
"Well fuck, Stein! It's not exactly the kind of thing you tell anyone, y'know?"
"Except your best friend, you fuckin' moron. What, you thought I'd tell everyone
that you've been making out with a sissy boy? I can't believe you thought I'd do
that, to you or to Bill. You're like a brother to me, and I like Bill better
than anyone except you. And anyway, what the hell? I thought you were going
steady with Priscilla?"
"Stein, I'm sorry. You're right, I probably should have told you. But you can't
tell anyone, ok...it wouldn't be pretty if you did."
Stein sat there for minute and didn't say anything. I was getting a little
nervous (ok, a lot nervous) when he finally spoke.
"Martin, I never told you why I live with my grandparents, did I?"
I shook my head.
"Well, let me tell you about something. When I was about three, I lived with my
big brother and my mom and dad in Poland. They had a clock shop. Then the
fucking Germans came over the border and invaded. They had just enough warning
to send my brother and me out of the country to my aunt in England, and they
stayed to take care of the shop. It was everything they had, y'see...they wanted
to make sure it would be ok."
I nodded.
"So the Germans came in, and they started rounding up the Jews. Taking them
away, sending them to these camps, where they said they were making us work for
them. But my parents never worked for them, John. When they got to this camp,
they separated out my mom from my dad, and they sent them to the showers to get
clean. Only you know what John? Water didn't come out of the
showerheads...poison gas did. They killed them, and then they burned their
bodies and spread the ashes on the fields for fertilizer. And you know why?"
I was so shocked by what he was telling me, I couldn't say a thing, just shook
my head.
"Because we were different from them. That's the only reason. 'Cause we didn't
talk or act or think like they did. So if you think I don't know how to keep my
mouth shut about people who are a little different, think about that. Y'know
when Officer Larkinson talked to us about people who are different? I was
ashamed that he had to say that to me, because I already knew what he was
talking about."
I couldn't look at him. I was so ashamed, and my chest hurt and I was so damn
sad that this had happened to him, I couldn't talk to him. I reached over and
laid my arm across his shoulders, and we sat like that for a while, just two
best friends, sitting together in the park.
We never said another word about it, but sometimes when we were in the showers
after football practice, he'd give me shit about it. He'd look at some guy in
the shower, then look at me and wiggle his eyebrows like Groucho Marx. I'd grin
and rake a look up and down his body and raise one eyebrow, and he'd laugh his
ass off and nobody ever knew what the hell he was laughing about.
Things were starting to get a little more serious with Priscilla. We'd gone
parking with Georgie and Zach a few times, and I'd kissed her pretty hard, and
put my hand on her breast a couple times, and sometimes at school she'd wear my
letterman's sweater, which was a pretty clear statement to everybody that we
were steadies. Bill was not too happy about all this, and I could tell that
something was going to have to happen pretty soon, 'cause they were both
pressuring me more and more for more of my time. Stein was just shaking his head
about the whole thing, and telling me it wasn't going to work very much longer,
and I knew he was right.
The hard thing about it all was that I really loved Bill. And because they both
liked me, Bill and Priscilla had become good friends too, sometimes even going
out to the malt shop together, or going shopping and things. Everything seemed
to be going just fine, but I guess I should have known better.
6.) Transformation
I was home studying alone on a Sunday afternoon, getting ready for a geography
test. Mom and Dad were out, and my brothers and sister were out playing at their
friends' houses, and I had the house to myself. I was just finishing up the last
of my test review, when the doorbell rang. I wandered down the hall, still
thinking about the last question on the review sheet, and opened the door,
expecting to see Stein or somebody.
I was totally surprised when I opened the door and found Priscilla's mom,
Lilliana, standing on the porch. She was just raising her knuckles to rap on the
door again when I opened it. She was dressed impeccably as always, her straight
black hair cut just above her shoulders and her skin was a little dark, what I'd
heard called an olive complexion.
"Hello John, may I come in?" Her voice was rich and pitched kind of low for a
woman's voice, I thought.
"Uh... I'm sorry ma'am, my mom isn't home right now..."
"Oh, that's all right, you see it is you that I wanted to talk to."
Completely confused, I stepped back and let her in. Her eyes flicked about the
room and I led her into the kitchen and pulled out a chair at the table for her.
"Umm...would you like ah...something to drink?"
"No thank you John, I am fine. Perhaps you could sit and we could talk a little,
you and I?"
"Um, yes, I guess.... what would you like to talk about?"
"Well John, since I moved here, my daughter has been very happy. She went to
school, and she came home talking about this very nice boy she had met. I was
happy for her, and then I met you when you came to take her out, and I was
happier because I could see that you were a good boy and that you cared about
her. After that, all she could talk about was you. And that is how it should
be."
I blushed and nodded.
"Then last week she came home and she was very quiet. I noticed but I said
nothing because I knew that it would go away...perhaps she had a little problem
with a friend, or something at school that would take care of itself. But three
days later she was still quiet, not talking, and I began to worry, because it is
not like her. She tells me everything, John—but never a word about this that was
bothering her. So, finally I asked her. And do you know what she told me, John?"
I shook my head, bewildered.
Lilliana smiled at me, a tiny and mysterious smile. Instead of telling me what
the problem was though, she began to talk about something else.
"My husband, he is a good man," she began. "He treats me very well, and I love
him. He tells everyone here that I am from Romania, that I am Romanian, no? But
this is not so. I am not Romanian, I am Rom."
I just stared at her blankly, not understanding.
"What your people call gypsy, you see? He fears there will be trouble for us if
people know I am a gypsy."
"Why?"
"Well, that is a very long story and not what we need to talk about. Let us say
that gypsies have different views of...property, yes property, than most people
do. By the way, where is your wallet?" she smiled at me when she asked that.
I reached back to pull it out, puzzled by this question, and then realized it
wasn't there.
"But, it's always in my pocket..."
Now she smiled broadly and took her hand off of her lap and offered me my
wallet. "Unless you walk down the hall in front of a gypsy."
I grinned at her. "Wow, that's cool. I didn't even feel you take it."
"It's nothing. I learned it as a child, and you weren't expecting it." She waved
dismissively. "But you see, this is why we Rom are viewed as a problem in
Europe. People hate us because we usually don't give back the things we take."
"Oh. I can see that being a problem."
"Yes. But let us return to why I am here. You see John, I have a problem. My
daughter is not happy. She tells me that you are the reason she is not happy. So
I come to you to see what can be done. I know this is not the way of Americans,
but I am not American, you see? This is how the Rom solve such problems. Let me
tell you what my Priscilla told me, and see if you agree. Please do not lie to
me, John. I will know if you do, and it will only make this harder, all right?"
I couldn't believe she was being so matter of fact about all of this. But her
way of solving problems set well with me. I'd always thought it was better to
just be upfront about everything, as much as possible. I nodded that I
understood.
She reached across the table and patted my hand. "You are a good boy John. I
have a feeling that this problem is not something you did on purpose. But let us
talk, yes?
I nodded again.
"All right. My daughter tells me that she loves you. And this used to make her
very happy, because she believed that you loved her back. And then last week she
was unhappy, and I asked her why, and she told me it is because she believes you
love another, that you are making light of her feelings for you. Is this true?"
I couldn't answer. I blushed and stammered for a while.
"It is a simple question, I think." She looked me in the eye. "Why is it so hard
to answer?"
"Well," I finally managed to croak out, "it's not that simple."
"Love is seldom simple for those who are involved, is it? Why don't you tell me
what has happened. Perhaps we can reach an understanding."
So, God help me, I did. I told her the whole story about Bill and all the things
that had happened. She raised one eyebrow when I told her that it was Bill that
Priscilla was referring to.
"Ah. Now I see. And this boy--Bill? Yes Bill--you love him? And he loves you?"
I looked at her, expecting to see disgust and shame, maybe even hatred, but
there was none of that: Only curiosity and watchfulness. I nodded.
"And what of my daughter?" she asked gently. "Do you love her?"
I closed my eyes and tried to speak around the huge lump in my throat. "Yes, God
help me I do." I couldn't open my eyes; I was so ashamed of what I'd just said.
I knew that it was impossible, that I was a fool and worse to have admitted it.
"Well then." She sat and thought for a moment, then seemed to make up her mind.
"Yes, I will tell you, but you must not tell others, for they would not
understand, do you see?"
I nodded.
"Very well. When I met my husband in Italy, he was a student at university in
Rome. This I think you know, yes?"
I nodded again.
"What you perhaps do not know is that I was working the street taking men's
wallets that day...yes, just like I did yours today. And I saw Stanley, and I
saw a rich American, and I knew that his wallet would be a good one, so I took
it. Only he felt me take it and he caught my arm, and he very gently asked me
for it back. Stanley is a gentleman, always. So I gave it back, though I could
have gotten away. But he was very beautiful, and I did not want to hurt him.
Then he asked me why I took his wallet, as though he really wanted to know. I
looked at him, and I knew that he did not see me as a bad person, just someone
who had done a bad thing.
"So I told him a very sad story about being alone in the world, no way to take
care of myself and no-one to turn to, and he nodded and took me to a café and he
bought me a meal and was very kind to me. Then he bid me goodbye and good luck
and left. I believe that was the last he expected to see of me. But that was not
the last he saw of me. I knew that I must know this boy more, so I followed him
to his home and marked where he lived.
"The next day I followed him into a crowd and picked out his wallet so lightly
he felt nothing. Then I took a shorter way, and when he came to the next street,
I was there, leaning against a light post. As he went by, I called out his name,
and when he turned, I tossed his wallet against his chest. He did not even check
to see if the money was still in it. He simply came over and asked me if I
wanted to dine with him again. And I did.
"Then I saw him every day, and he began to watch for me, and it became a game.
Could I take his wallet without him noticing, or would he catch me at it? And,
over time, as young men and women do, we fell in love. And that was not easy
because my family hated it, and so did his. But this would not have mattered,
because when a woman of the Rom falls in love with a man, he is hers. There is
no question of that.
"But, like with you, it was not that simple. You see, there was a boy that
Stanley lived with, another student at the university. His name Giovanni
Corvetti, an Italian. Stanley and this boy were lovers, John. They were in love,
just like your Bill and you. And so it comes around again, no? How God laughs at
us..."
She just sat and watched me for a moment, and I looked at her awestruck. This
woman knew what I was going through, had already experienced it. What would she
do?
"And so," she continued after a moment, "We went to his home and we explained
ourselves to Giovanni, and he was surprised but not angry, and so I moved in
with them and we all three lived in their little flat for two years. And it
worked very well. But then Stanley was ready to graduate from his university,
and Gianni, as we called him, already had. We could all three of us see that war
was coming to our home, with the German pigs already in Poland, and Stanley
wanted to take us all to America to be safe. And so we tried to do that, but at
the last minute, Gianni was called up to go into the Italian army, so it was
just Stanley and I who came to America. We later heard that Gianni died while
fighting in North Africa.
"But what you must see is that both Stanley and I loved Gianni, and that he
loved both of us the same. I think this is not usual, but it is not impossible.
We do not choose who we will love, John. God chooses that for us, and who are we
to question? In the end, it is not who we love that matters, but that we love,
do you see? There is very little love in the world John, and what there is must
live and grow, for it keeps the world alive.
"Now," she said, suddenly brisk. "This has been a very good talk, yes? I think
we understand each other a little better. I will speak to my daughter, and make
her understand what is at hand. She will know the truth and will speak it to no
one, for that is the Romani
way. As for you...well, now we know things about each other, no? You know things
about me that could destroy my life, and I know things that could make yours
very difficult. If what you feel for my daughter is less than love, if you only
want her for sex, then I ask that you not see her again, because I will tell
what I know if you hurt her, and then many lives would be ruined, am I right?
But this need not happen. Only be truthful to her, and do what is right and all
will be well. I think you will do this, because I can see that you are a good
boy."
I sat in my chair and stared at her. I was stunned by what she had just told me,
and I couldn't make myself move. She looked at me for a moment, then slid her
chair out from under the table and stepped up to me.
"Good-by John, handsome John. I will see myself out." And then she kissed me on
the cheek and was striding down the hall toward the door. A moment later I heard
the door open and close.
The next day at school, Priscilla wore my letterman's sweater as usual, and
nothing was said about Bill and I, but I could see her watching him in the
lunchroom. After school, Bill waited in the stands for me and Stein to get done
with practice as usual, and then we all three went to my house to do our
homework. Stein didn't say anything either, just watched the two of us.
After Stein left, I knew I needed to talk to Bill. So, after Stein left, I fixed
Bill a sandwich, gave him a soda (he liked grape Neehigh the best), and sat down
to tell what had happened.
"I had kind of an interesting talk with Priscilla's mom yesterday," I said. "She
told me some pretty interesting stuff."
"Oh yeah? Like what?"
So I told him the whole story, and he was as amazed as I was. He got a little
upset when I told him about telling her about he and I, but had calmed down by
the time I'd finished telling the whole story.
"So now what are we going to do?" he asked. "Everyone seems to know about us."
"Naw, not everyone. Priscilla knows, but she's not going to say anything. I
trust her mother not to let her say anything about it to anyone."
"Well, that's a relief. So are you going to keep on seeing Priscilla?"
"I want to...I guess I will. I love her, Bill."
Bill looked at me, and I could just about see his heart breaking. His face got
red and I saw tears start to flow down his cheeks.
"But, but I love you John. I thought you loved me too...all the things we've
done together. Don't you love me?"
"I do Bill. I didn't even know I could love another boy, but I love you. And I
love Priscilla too...I know it's fucked up, but that's how I feel."
"Well, who are you going to choose? You have to choose one of us."
"Maybe not. Maybe there's another way. Maybe it could be you and me and
Priscilla..."
"No. I'm not going to do that. It would never work. People would laugh at us."
"Fuck what people think, Bill. Who cares? We'll do what we want."
"But isn't it wrong?"
"We'll decide what's right or wrong for us, Bill. Why should anyone else tell us
what's gonna work for us?"
He looked at me for long moment, then got up and came around and sat on my lap.
"I love you John. I guess if this is how it's going to be, I'll try to live with
it. I like Priscilla, so I'll try. Just don't lie to me, ok? If you stop loving
me, just say so, you promise?"
"It's not going to happen Bill, but yeah. If I stop loving you, I'll tell you."
And so that was how it ended up. Bill started hanging out with Priscilla and I,
and sometimes just the two of them. I think they talked it over and decided what
the rules were going to be and worked out their own schedule for time with me,
and things started to settle down.
"Wow, Grampa.... It's hard to imagine all that happening in the '50's. I always
thought they were so...straight-laced and repressed back then."
"No, the fifties were like any era, kiddo. People did what they had to do. They
just didn't put it on the front of newspapers and magazines."
"So what did they do next?"
"Well, they graduated from high school, and Bill and Priscilla went to college
at U of W, there in Seattle. John got a job and worked construction, and the
three of them lived in a little cottage they rented in Wallingford, near the
university. They got into a few scrapes over the years, but nothing to serious,
and Bill ended up with an MBA and a degree in accounting, and Priscilla got a
degree in English and her teaching credentials, and taught junior high school
for a while.
"Did Bill ever come out?"
"Well...one didn't really 'come out' in those days, Amos. It was more like an
open secret sort of thing: everyone knew but no one acknowledged it. And by the
time it would have been ok for him to come out, he didn't want to. He told me
once "I know who I am. As long as I know, what difference does it make if the
world knows?"
"Hmm.... yeah, that makes sense, huh?"
"Huh. Getting dark out boy... when did you tell your mother you'd be home?"
"Oh, no particular time... I kinda told her I might sleep over on your couch."
"Oh did you? Have you called Dan yet and told him you'd be over?"
"Mmm... no. I don't want to look too eager."
"I don't think he'll think that. Here's the cordless: call him."
As I watched my boy chatting away to his boyfriend, my thoughts were on all the
long years that have passed, and how down through all the years, a chain of
relationships had brought this boy and I to this place. And despite the aches
and pains of both my body and my heart over my lifetime, I was content to be
this boy's mentor and friend. Life is good, if you let it be.
I wiped my eyes and wheeled into the kitchen for a beer.