“And, so, there he is, standing before the Queen of England, absolutely blitzed out if his mind…”
Jonathan Durham yawned from boredom as he sat in Alistair’s study, sipping an iced tea and gazing out the window at the garden beyond. Alistair was seated across from him. He stopped speaking in mid-sentence before he asked, “Am I boring you, Jonathan?”
“Yes. Dreadfully.”
“Well, I am most extraordinarily sorry,” Alistair replied dramatically.
“Alistair, I’ve heard a dozen times how your father told the young queen how he could have made her a magnificent dancer. You tell that story every time you’re trying to avoid discussing something unpleasant. So, while you continue to avoid discussing things you’d rather not discuss, I’m going to sit here and fantasize writing a musical about newspaper boys from the turn-of-the-century.”
“Will there be any women in it?”
“Of course not.”
“Then it will be a dismal failure. No one will come see it.”
“Homosexuals and pedophiles will.”
“My point exactly.”
“You don’t think there are enough homosexuals and pedophiles in New York to support a musical aimed at them?”
Alistair impatiently set his glass down on the table beside him and said, “Go ahead, Jonathan. Ask the questions you’ve been dying to ask all morning.”
“Tell me about this new boy with whom you’re in love.”
Alistair sighed and turned his head.
“Nothing will come of it. I won’t make a move on him. I’ve gone for years as Director of Ballet Academy and the only boy I’ve touched is the most damaged boy I’ve ever seen, though I think he actually benefited from my love.”
“Isn’t that what attracts you?” Jonathan asked softly, “the damage? He reminds you of you?”
“It was a mistake, though.”
Alistair looked down at his lap and thought for several seconds before he said, “I’ve made a difference in Rafael’s life. I’ve shown him that love doesn’t always comes with strings, that he can actually trust people.”
“Do you really think The Gazelle will prove to him that he’s the dancer he is?”
“I pray to the God in whom I never believed that it does. I want him to truly understand what a magnificent dancer he is and what potential he has. Rafael knows he’s good…”
“Just ask him.”
Alistair frowned and said, “The diva in Rafael is a reflection of his self-doubt. He needs to fully understand, without the arrogance and conceit, that he is special, that he can truly be one of The Greats. I hope that when he dances The Gazelle at the September Spotlight and the audience goes mad for him, that he will realize, truly understand what a special dancer he is.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing his face when you tell him.”
Alistair smiled and nodded before leaning his head back and closing his eyes.
“So, what’s so special about the new boy?”
Alistair opened his eyes and pointed to the desk. “His file is over there. Read it.”
Jonathan nodded and heaved himself up to his feet. He stepped over to the desk and gazed at the manilla file labeled, “Fenwick, Jeremy David.”
“I love his name—Jeremy Fenwick,” Jonathan remarked. “It makes him sound like a sweet, mischievous little scamp. Like he’s an elf.”
Alistair simply sipped his iced tea and watched Jonathan’s face as he opened the file and saw the first photograph, the school picture of Jeremy. He gasped, “Oh, my God.”
“Yeah.”
Jonathan picked up the file and carried it back to his chair, his eyes never leaving the picture. As he sat down, he said, “His smile…those eyes…those freckles…he’s the sweetest looking boy I’ve ever seen. He’s just too cute.”
Alistair nodded and said, “And, he’s as good a dancer as he is beautiful. He has potential. He can be up there with Rafael. He can be better than Rafael. In some ways, he already is.”
“You’re going to make him a star.”
“Yes, I am.”
“As you’re fucking him?”
Alistair looked away. After a long pause, he replied, “No. I may want to, and God knows I could jump at the chance, but I won’t. I’ve trained hundreds of boys, maybe thousands, and Rafael is the only boy with whom I’ve let my weakness get the best of me. And, then, it was only because his own sexual obsession was just too much for me to resist.”
Jonathan flipped the photo over to reveal Jeremy’s audition photo, the picture showing his arabesque. “As far as I know,” Alistair continued as Jonathan gazed in amazement at the picture, “Jeremy has no history like Rafael’s. He’s a reasonably normal kid who just happens to be the most amazing twelve-year-old dancer in the country.”
Jonathan looked up and said, “So, you’re falling in love with him. Why?”
Alistair took a sip and replied, “One night, when I was twelve, back when the Academy was still over on Madison, before we moved to Ballet Centre, I was practicing by myself. My father was a brutal task-master and forced me to dance hours longer than the other trainees and I was exhausted. I was in terrible pain and as lonely and desperate for love or friendship as I had ever been. Well, the window was open and it had been raining that night. I had stopped dancing and was sitting on the window sill. There was a radio on somewhere and it was set to the old WEAF, which was playing a concert from some band doing Glen Miller songs in a ballroom in a nearby hotel. I seldom had a chance to hear any popular music. Dad forbade it, but the radio was playing Glen Miller’s ‘In the Mood,’ which I just loved. I could imagine dancing endlessly to that song. Well, as I was listening, I looked down on the sidewalk and there was this boy about my age, with red hair like mine, wearing work pants and a work shirt, and he was walking by the school and then, all of a sudden, he started dancing, right there, under my window, to ‘In the Mood.’ It was the strangest thing, but it was beautiful. He was dancing with such energy and spirit and I immediately fell in love. I wanted to be his friend. I wanted to run downstairs and get to know him, but before I could move, the song ended and the boy simply moved on. I sat there, in the window, leaning out, and watched him until he was out of sight.”
Alistair paused and took a sip of his Scotch before resuming.
“From that night on, I imagined that boy as my friend. We would dance together to all the swing hits, we would picnic in Central Park, we would take the subway up to the Bronx to watch the Yankees or over to Brooklyn for the Dodgers. And, at night, we would sleep together and make passionate love until dawn. I called him Jeremy in my mind and whenever I was sad or anxious or lonely, whenever my father was beating or raping me, I would imagine I was with Jeremy.”
Jonathan shook his head and said, “So, now, you see Jeremy Fenwick as the reincarnation of your dancing Jeremy from twenty-seven years ago.”
“Yes. No. No, I don’t. Maybe. I don’t know,” Alistair replied.
“The Great Mountjoy is confused.”
“Yes. I’ve seen the real Jeremy dance and he’s sublime and, physically, he’s the perfect boy. But, there’s nothing wrong with him, emotionally, and if I were to…pursue him, I could do damage that I couldn’t undo. So, all I can do is love him secretly and work with him and nurture him and…dream of him.”
Jonathan cynically studied the man as Alistair continued. “If it weren’t for my terrible childhood…”
“Oh, God,” Jonathan muttered. “If I hear one more queen whine about how terrible their childhood was, how awful their parents were, how they were bullied and beaten in school…”
“It’s true and you know it!” Alistair exclaimed angrily.
“Yes, it is. Every homosexual, every homosexual puts up with bullying and hatred. We’ve all had terrible childhoods. That’s just life. Maybe someday, things will improve, but for now…yes. We’ve all had terrible childhoods, but for God’s sake, let’s put it all behind us and move on and quit obsessing over it.”
“Jonathan, how often have you heard me mention my childhood?” Alistair demanded.
Jonathan took a deep breath and said, “All right, you don’t whine about it as much as others. Still, we’ve all had crappy childhoods, Alistair, but we deal with it and we move on.”
“I believe I have moved on quite well,” Alistair replied stiffly. “After all, I’m Artistic Director of one of the greatest ballet companies in the world. I run one of the finest ballet schools in the world. I have created great ballets. My dancers and trainees adore me. I think I’ve done pretty well at putting the past behind me.”
Jonathan nodded and said, “Yes, you have. I just don’t want you to lie to yourself or use the past as an excuse to do something you know you shouldn’t or can’t do. Jeremy Fenwick is not your mythical Jeremy from your childhood and I don’t want to see you try to make him fill that void, because you will fail and it will deeply hurt both you and him. Either the real Jeremy won’t like the music you have imagined he would like, or he won’t feel the same way about you, or he will not have the same personality or, God forbid, he’s simply an individual who doesn’t conform to the image you’ve created.”
Alistair sipped the last of his tea and rose from his chair. He walked over to the side table as Jonathan added, “Yes, I’ve picked up gay teenagers and have had wonderful times with them, but I’ve also known men who have fallen in love with teenage boys. Alistair, this isn’t ancient Athens. Our society does not accept this, no matter how irrational that dislike may be, but there is some merit to that societal concern. The men I know who have fallen for boys invariably are damaged souls themselves who are trying to relive some golden moment from their youth, or trying to rewrite their youth, or to regain their youth, or trying to vicariously live through their beloved. Sometimes, the relationship works, when the man and the boy enter into it with their eyes open and neither is trying to satisfy some deep, existential angst. But most of the time, it ends in failure and with both the man and the boy deeply wounded. Don’t let your feelings for this boy grow to consume you, Alistair. Don’t let Jeremy Fenwick take control of your emotions. Train him as a dancer, educate him, nurture him. Love him from afar, but do not take him to bed. If you do, this will not end well for either him or you.”
Alistair held the tea pitcher as he looked at Jonathan. Slowly, he offered it and his guest shook his head. He set the pitcher down and returned to his seat.
“You feel, Alistair, and sometimes you feel too much,” Jonathan said. “You put your feelings into the dances you create and that’s one of the reasons they are so beautiful and meaningful, why people acclaim them so. It’s a curse as well as a blessing.”
Alistair took a deep sip of his tea and sighed heavily before he said, “People like us, people at the top of whatever profession we’re in, in whatever creative world we may inhabit, those of us at the top tend to think the rules are different up here, the rules are different for us, or don’t apply to us, when in reality the rules aren’t different and they do apply to us. It’s so easy to get into a mindset that excuses certain behaviors. We’re just as human as those who only stand and wait.”
“Thank you, John Milton,” Jonathan replied with a smile.
Alistair smiled and said, “Just don’t let anyone know that the Great Mountjoy is mortal.”
“Don’t worry,” Jonathan replied. “The ballet world would collapse.”
—o-0-o—
They were speeding along the Long Island Expressway, the Porsche cutting in and out of traffic. Jeremy squealed with delight. Conrad smiled at the boy’s joy and his hand subconsciously fondled the knob on the stick. He passed a semi and gunned the engine, he laughing as Jeremy threw his arms into the air and yelled ecstatically. The boy laughed and turned to watch Conrad’s laughing face.
Conrad. Jeremy was in love. He was the most beautiful man in the world, even more beautiful than Alistair Mountjoy. His white blond hair flying about his head in the wind, the ice-blue eyes behind the aviator sunglasses, the high cheekbones, the firm chin, the confident smile…yes, he looked like a Viking. The arm resting on the door and holding the steering wheel, the other holding the stick shift, he looked so confident and in control. Jeremy imagined him on stage, leaping through the air, his arms and legs perfectly parallel to the stage, his muscles so perfectly accented by his tights and leotard, and he felt himself grow fiercely hard in his shorts. Yes, Jeremy loved Rafael, but this man was…he was a man. He was a god!
Conrad turned his head and found Jeremy’s face looking at him. He smiled at him and removed the boy’s sunglasses long enough to gaze at the face for a few seconds before slipping them back on. He smiled and then chuckled.
“It’s interesting,” he yelled over the roar of the engine and the wind, “that we both chose the same clothes to wear—a white Izod, khaki shorts, Topsiders. It’s like we both think alike.”
Jeremy grinned with delight behind his sunglasses. He admired the handsome man and it seemed unimaginable that a man such as he would be interested in a boy such as Jeremy in any way, whether sexual or as a mentor. Jeremy suddenly felt a sob catch in his throat and a look of alarm came over Conrad’s face.
“What is it, Little Man?” he asked quickly.
“It’s just…you know, I’ve been through so much, losing my parents and having to give up ballet because of my crazy uncle, but I’ve been so lucky, too. I mean, Rafael came back to Greensburg and he didn’t have to help me. I was a nobody to him, but when he found out what had happened to me, he felt he had to do something. And, now you. I’m just some kid who’s going to audition for Ballet Academy next month and you, this amazing, fantastic man, one of the greatest dancers in the world, you want to help me. I…”
He turned his head and looked to the side of the road as they neared the end of the LIE in Central Islip, overcome with emotion. Conrad released the stick shift and took Jeremy’s left hand in his. He squeezed it and Jeremy turned.
“I’ve been so emotional the last couple of days,” Jeremy said as Conrad released his hand and downshifted. They left the freeway and turned onto Highway 78. “I just couldn’t believe that I was practicing yesterday at Ballet Academy and now, I’m riding out to Alistair Mountjoy’s home in the Hamptons with one of the greatest dancers in the world. I mean, I’m just this kid from Greensburg, this kid from Breckenridge Middle School, and…here I am. It’s all a dream and I’m so scared I’m going to wake up and it’ll all be over and I’ll be back on the west side of the river with Uncle Jimmy Dale and…”
Conrad watched him as he shifted his gaze back and forth from the road to the boy, trying to discern if Jeremy had a tendency toward occasional melancholy or if this was simply a result of his recent traumas and crises. Either way, he decided it was best to change the subject and discuss something positive and upbeat.
“So, tell me, Jeremy, what are your favorite ballets?”
As if awakening from a bad dream, Jeremy looked at Conrad with confusion for a moment before he smiled and took a deep breath.
“Well, Nutcracker was the first one I ever saw and it’s the first one I ever performed in. I was Fritz two years, like Rafael. I was also the Mouse King the second year, but it’s not one of my favorites. Nutcracker doesn’t really have much…it doesn’t…it’s not…”
“I know what you mean,” Conrad said with a smile. “It’s not a difficult ballet to perform and its doesn’t have as much emotional depth as some others.”
Jeremy nodded enthusiastically and replied, “Yeah! That’s it! Unfortunately, the only ballets I’ve ever seen are the ones Greensburg Ballet performed. I like Coppélia and Swan Lake. Peter Pan was fun. I liked that. I’d like to see Romeo and Juliet. Greensburg’s going to do it this season. That’ll be cool because last year was the first time it was ever performed in the United States. I can hardly wait to see Le Corsair. I love stuff about pirates.”
“You know that Mario de Stefano and I are alternating as Conrad,” the dancer said with a smile.
“Oh, yeah! I know. You’ll be the best,” Jeremy declared loyally as Conrad smiled. “I think Alistair should create a ballet about Vikings. You’d be perfect as a Viking chieftain. You look just like a Viking.”
“You think?” Conrad asked with a grin. “I think you may have an idea there. You should mention that to Alistair. Jonathan Durham’s going to be there and you three can share ideas on the choreography and the music.”
“Oh, they wouldn’t listen to some kid like me.”
Conrad raised an eyebrow and said, “Hey, you know ballet. Your opinions are as valid as anyone else’s. Let’s think about this. What do you think would be a good story?”
Jeremy pressed his lips together and thought for a moment before his face lit up and he said, “It could be about Leif Erikson discovering America! And the Viking god of the sea. Who was that?”
Conrad smiled and said, “The Norse god of the sea was Aegis, who was a giant.”
“Cool, and he could help Leif Erikson sail across from Greenland and maybe Thor could be in it, too!”
“Good, good! I think I’d rather be Thor, though.”
Jeremy giggled and said, “You’re too beautiful to be Thor. You’d be great as Leif Erikson, standing on the prow of your Viking longboat and leading your Viking army to take the new lands in America.”
Conrad smiled and asked, “You really think I’m beautiful?”
Jeremy blushed deeply and looked down at his lap before he softly said, “Yes, I do.”
Conrad reached over and squeezed Jeremy’s hand, replying, “I couldn’t hear you over the engine and the wind. What did you say?”
Blushing even more, Jeremy looked up and said in a louder voice, “Yes, I think you’re beautiful. I think you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”
Conrad looked ahead for a moment and then turned back to the boy with emotion and replied, “Thank you, Jeremy. That means a lot to me. And I am being perfectly honest when I say that you’re the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen.”
Jeremy looked at him with a worshipful face, but was unable to reply. Conrad looked into the boy’s eyes and then turned back to the road as he said, grinning, “If you and I ever dance before an audience, they won’t know what to do with the most beautiful man and the most beautiful boy in the world. Whom should they look at, after all?”
Jeremy smiled and relaxed, grateful for the comic relief at that moment.
“So, who would be the antagonist?” Conrad asked. “Every story needs conflict. What’s the struggle in the story going to be about?”
And, as the German race car sped down Highway 78, the two plotted and discussed their ideas, enjoying the creative process and getting to know the other better through the act of devising and conceiving a new story. In fact, Jeremy was so consumed with the conversation that he was surprised when, as they headed east on Highway 27 and were passing through the north side of Southampton, Conrad said, “It won’t be long now. This is Southampton and in a few minutes, we’ll pass Bridgehampton and then come to Amagansett.”
“This doesn’t seem too fancy,” Jeremy remarked as he looked at the barren land. “It looks like just normal farms.”
“It is,” Conrad replied. “The beaches are over there to your right a few miles.”
“I thought the Hamptons were really nice and everything.”
“Trust me, you will see some nice places. Some of the wealthiest people in America have homes out here.”
Jeremy looked around as the car sped on along the two-lane highway. After a while, they crossed a bridge and Conrad said, “We’re getting close. This is Water Mill.”
And, to his right, off the highway, Jeremy saw what appeared to be an old-fashioned Dutch windmill. They passed through a quaint little town with a small, classic, white, wooden church with a cemetery and then past several miles of occasional large nineteenth-century wooden houses. Passing through Bridgehampton, Conrad suddenly asked an unusual question.
“So, Jeremy, have you ever had a girlfriend?”
Jeremy looked at him with surprise and said, “No. Um, you know I’m gay, don’t you?”
“Oh, yeah. I know that,” Conrad replied with a smile. “But, in ballet, some of the gayest dancers sometimes have girlfriends for a variety of reasons. I was just curious. You’ve never had an interest in girls?”
“Um, well, uh, no,” Jeremy replied, feeling uncomfortable.
“I’m not trying to embarrass you,” Conrad said. “I’m just curious about your feelings. You won’t have a problem with partnering, will you?”
“Oh, no,” Jeremy replied with relief. “Rafael’s taught me a big lesson about that. All the girls love him, even though he’s as gay as a goose,” the boy said with a grin, remembering the phrase Conrad had used the day before in describing Dmitri Koronov.
“And, why do the girls as love Rafael?”
“Because he’s beautiful and because he treats them with respect and because they know he won’t try to do stuff with them. Dylan says he’s just one of the girls, but I think it’s more than that. It’s because he respects the girls and treats them nice. And, he knows how they think so he can do partner work better with them. I want Rafael to teach me how to be that way, too. I want to be the best at everything I do and if I’m going to be the best at partner work, I have to know the girls and how they think and I need for them to trust me.”
Conrad nodded and said, “Excellent. Excellent. I think you’ve got a great attitude and a good, solid friend in Rafael. I think he’s a good influence for you.”
“I hope so.”
Conrad paused and then said, “I am curious. Jeremy may I speak frankly?”
Jeremy frowned, but nodded.
“Everyone at Ballet Academy and everyone in Ballet of America knows that Rafael is a magnificent dancer and probably the best dancer in training right now.”
Jeremy nodded.
“And, everyone loves Rafael. No one really dislikes him. We all love Rafael.”
Jeremy was growing uncomfortable, waiting for Conrad to say, “But…”
“But…everyone also knows Rafael is…very into sex.”
Jeremy knew where this was going and immediately cut in. “I know all about that. I know that Rafael was molested by his stepfather and it was awful and that the experience turned Rafael into…well, it made Rafael like crazy for sex and I understand and I love him anyway because I know Rafael would never, ever hurt anyone. Never. Yes, he really loves sex and I understand and if Rafael wants to do it with other guys, that’s okay because…”
He held up his yin pendant and said, “I have this yin pendant and Rafael has the yang pendant. It means we are two halves of one whole, like the Ancient Greeks who thought that men were cut in half and when we fall for another man, we’re finding the other half. Rafael and I are united and we always will be and it doesn’t matter who we are with or what we do with them. As long as we have these pendants on, we are still united with each other. We love each other and I won’t get jealous if Rafael wants to do it with others.”
Conrad nodded and said, “I’m impressed.”
Jeremy nodded and added, “I love Rafael and that means that I accept everything about Rafael. But, I don’t think Rafael’s going to be as sexy-crazy now as he was before. I know he’ll still do stuff and that’s okay, but I don’t think he’s going to do it as much. But, if he wants to, that’s okay. I understand.”
Conrad nodded and said, “I think you’re a very special person, Jeremy. There aren’t very many people who would be so understanding.”
Jeremy shrugged and said, “I know he loves me and I know he’ll always love me.”
Conrad nodded and then glanced to the side as he carefully asked, “So…what about you?”
Jeremy suddenly suspected where the conversation had been leading and he felt a growing panic on the inside. On the one hand, he could sense his parents looking down at him from Heaven and shaking their heads with disapproval at the excitement he was feeling. On the other, he didn’t want to discourage Conrad if, as Rafael suggested, he might want to have more than just a mentoring relationship. He wanted to let the man know that he was interested, but not that he was…a slut. Still, above it all, even if his parents were watching him from Heaven, he still wanted Conrad. He wanted to feel the man hold him. He wanted to feel the man’s strong body. He wanted them to kiss. He wanted…
“Jeremy?”
The realized he had been ruminating for a while. He looked at Conrad and swallowed before he smiled.
“I love Rafael and I would never, ever do anything to hurt him. But, we had a talk last night when we put these pendants on. I know that no matter what he does, he still loves me and he knows that no matter what I do, I will still love him. I won’t mess around with the guys in the showers like everyone else does and I won’t be looking for guys to do it with and I told Rafael that. He said it’s okay if I do and I understand that I can, but I won’t.”
Conrad nodded solemnly and Jeremy felt a surge of panic as he feared he was giving him the wrong message. How should he say this without being too forward? And, what if Conrad actually didn’t want to do it with him? What if he was misunderstanding all this?
Jeremy took a deep breath and said, “If I meet someone special, though, someone who is beautiful and wonderful and smart and good and a fabulous dancer, and I like them and they like me, well, I can maybe, well, you know, be close to them and…well…”
Conrad said nothing. He smiled and glanced to the side as they left Bridgehampton and the road became rural once again. Jeremy wasn’t sure if he should say something else. He wanted to encourage Conrad, but he didn’t want to sound like a floozy!
He took another deep breath and said, “Rafael tells me that sometimes guys at Ballet Academy have a boyfriend and a man-friend and he said that I might find a man who wants to be my man-friend and, well, I think it could be nice if I did.”
Conrad’s smile grew wider as he watched the empty road before him, though he remained silent. Jeremy watched him expectantly, hoping, praying—or he would have been praying if what he wanted wasn’t so sinful!—that Conrad would say or do something to indicate that he wanted to do something with Jeremy. He was smiling. He hadn’t said no. He was smiling…
Jeremy took a deep breath. Maybe it was all right. He was smiling. Maybe this just wasn’t the time. Maybe he should say something else. Maybe he should do something. Should he reach over and touch him, hold his hand, kiss him? Maybe he should make a sign that he was willing…
He grinned, remembering the scene in David Copperfield when the cart driver, Mr. Barkus, asked young David to tell his housekeeper, Peggoty, that “Barkus was willing.” How could he convey to Conrad that Fenwick was willing?
He looked to his right at the suddenly flat farmland between Bridgehampton and East Hampton. He slowly leaned down in his seat and spread his legs as wide as the narrow space would permit. Maybe Conrad would reach over and…feel him!
Nothing.
He waited a moment and then slowly slid his hand down over the hardness in his shorts. He stifled a moan at the wonderful feeling, the exciting feeling of doing something so illicit, so dirty, so nasty in front of another person, in front of one of the greatest dancers in the world!
Nothing.
They were passing the quaint houses along the road in East Hampton and Conrad was slowing down as they came to a three-way intersection. As the man turned left, Jeremy slowly pulled his hand back as a wave of mortification came over him. Conrad hadn’t responded. Jeremy had completely misread the situation! This wasn’t what Conrad was interested in! He wasn’t interested in sex! He really did want to be just Jeremy’s mentor! Oh, God! What had he done?
As the car accelerated again, this time heading north past the town green, the huge Episcopal church, and the turn-off to Sag Harbor to the northwest, Jeremy closed his eyes tightly as he sat up in the seat and closed his legs. What an idiot! What a doofus! What a dork! God! How could he have been so dumb, so perverted?
He could feel the tears forming in his eyes again. Great. Just what he needed right after making the biggest fool of himself in front of such a great and renowned man as Conrad Hartsfeld! Now, he was going to add the indignity of being a bawling crybaby on top of it all! He had cried over practically everything for the last week and now, after showing Conrad Hartsfeld what a pervert doofus he was, now he was going to cry like a woosie.
They were driving slowly through heavier traffic along a two-lane street lined with shops and galleries and restaurants and sidewalks full of tourists. Jeremy struggled with a trembling jaw not to cry as he rested his right elbow atop the door and placed his fist against his lips. He was grateful he was wearing sunglasses so that Conrad couldn’t see his crybaby tears.
They passed large, old houses with wide lawns again until the road curved to the right after passing another old-fashioned windmill on the left and a weathered, brown wooden church. A moment later, however, as they neared an intersection, Jeremy was stunned to feel Conrad’s hand lay atop his left arm and then gently slide down it to his hand. Jeremy jerked his head to the left and looked at Conrad with shock.
The man was smiling at him as he took Jeremy’s hand in his, twining his fingers through Jeremy’s. They drove through the intersection and accelerated some as they passed more large, wooden houses. Jeremy didn’t know what to think, what to do, how to act. He didn’t understand. Was Conrad upset with him? Was Conrad letting him know everything was all right? What was happening?
A moment later, he felt Conrad slowly lift his hand up and toward him and as Jeremy turned his head to watch, he saw the man smile before turning his head back to the road and bringing the boy’s hand to his lips. Conrad kissed the back of Jeremy’s hand, not once, not twice, but three times before he carefully placed the hand back in Jeremy’s lap and then took the stick shift in hand to downshift for a moment.
Jeremy relaxed. He lay his head back and turned it to the left to gaze at the beautiful man who glanced over at him and smiled.