As Bryce walked away from the University Library, where the French study group had been meeting, he contacted Damon. “On my way to Pat’s ... see you there.” Damon almost immediately responded, “Great ... sick and tired of trying to understand Marx.” Bryce chuckled. In his Political Theory class, Damon had reached Karl Marx. As with all the previous political theorists studied, or at least the major ones, the class was given a selection of the writer’s work to study, and so he was struggling with Marx’s turgid nineteenth century prose. At least, he did not have to read it in the original German, Bryce thought.
Bryce considered the group he just left. He was pleased that he had met with Marc Rimbault the day before. They really did agree on a lot of things, but Bryce had a suspicion that Marc would have felt an urge to side with the others just to irk him if they had not had that meeting. This was much better. Perhaps he could even reach a similar modus vivendi with Josh Young.
He then texted Josh, simply saying: ‘on my way.’
Bryce got to Pat’s tavern before Damon, as the apartment was located beyond the campus, in a direction away from the strip where so many student oriented establishments were located, including Pat’s. As he entered the bar, he caught the eye of the owner, the hefty Irishman Pat Flaherty, behind the bar. Pat knew Bryce was not yet 21, but neither he nor those with him had ever caused a problem, and so he turned a blind eye. For his part, Bryce had no crise de conscience over violating this particular regulation. He figured that it made some kind of sense in the distant past (before 1959 in Kentucky), when the age of majority was 21, but if he was a legal adult at 18, able to enter into binding contracts, able to get married without anyone’s consent, able to join the armed forces and get killed, and able to vote, it was merely a remnant of that pervasive Puritan influence which said he could not legally get a drink at that age as well. And Bryce had little patience for the Puritans, despite being descended from them on his father’s side. He was given to annoying his paternal relatives by referring to them as religious fanatics. They, of course, responded by calling his Virginia ancestors illiterate bumpkins. On occasion, it was a source of wonder to Bryce that New England and Virginia had cooperated sufficiently to break free of Britain in the eighteenth century. New Englanders lived in towns, or at least townships. Virginians lived in counties. New Englanders belonged to the Zwinglian/Calvinist/Anabaptist religious tradition. Virginians were Anglicans. New Englanders stressed education and middle class work ethic. Virginians stressed tradition, deference to social superiors, and getting along. Well, there was something to be said for both, Bryce conceded in his more generous moods.
Josh Young was waiting for him. He was at a booth with two other guys, but when he saw Bryce enter, he said something, and the other two left for another table. Bryce collected his draft beer from Pat, and made his way to Josh’s booth.
“Where’s your shadow?” Josh enquired.
“Is that a racist remark?” Bryce countered, taking Josh somewhat by surprise.
“Do you find it so?” Josh asked, actually concerned.
“No. I was being flippant. And I’m sure Damon would feel the same, although there’s a lot more to him than being my shadow. For your information, he’s on his way,” Bryce assured the other guy.
“I don’t really know Damon. I’ve only encountered him in association with you. I meant no harm,” Josh protested, obviously concerned.
“Josh, I was joking. Lighten up. I never for a moment though you were racist,” Bryce assured him.
Fortunately, at that moment Damon entered the bar, and headed immediately for the booth where Bryce and Josh were located. Seeing him enter, Pat signaled a waitress, and sent another beer in that direction. Bryce had never been known to welch on his tabs, so Pat trusted him. Damon and Josh shook hands, and Damon settled in on the same side of the booth as Bryce.
“Now, be on your good behavior,” Bryce said to Damon. “Josh was just saying he didn’t know you very well, so you want to make a good impression.”
Josh rolled his eyes.
Damon grinned. “You mean I can’t gripe and complain about my deprived upbringing in the Chicago projects. Or do you mean I can’t act out, like lisping and kissing you and calling Pat a hunk?”
Bryce laughed. “I think Josh could accept the acting out part.”
“Oh, yeah,” Damon put on an act, flipping his hand up and down and speaking in a falsetto voice. “You’re one of those who like acting out, aren’t you?”
Josh looked totally confused.
Bryce could hold it in no longer, and burst out laughing. He was joined immediately by Damon.
“What the hell is going on?” Josh demanded.
“We are just having a little joke at your expense, Josh,” Bryce informed him. “Sometimes we get these strange urges to totally confuse people. I hope you don’t mind too much.”
“That’s not Damon?” Josh asked.
“Oh, I’m Damon. But I don’t usually act like that. Usually I’m pretty dull, just like Bryce.”
“I object to dull,” Bryce commented. But, turning his attention to Josh, he continued. “I asked to meet with you for two specific reasons, and one more generic one. Specifically, how are you?”
Josh was finally beginning to get a handle on those two, so, shaking his head at their antics, he replied, “If you’re inquiring about the state of my health, I’m about back to normal. The hospital let me go back a few days ago, but I need to be careful about banging my head.” He grinned. “I’m usually carefully about banging my head anyway. It was never my intention to have my head banged.”
“Typical bureaucratese,” Bryce commented.
“I’ve been attending classes,” Josh continued, “but I admit I’ve been taking it pretty easy otherwise.”
“Make’s sense,” Damon said. “When I was attacked last year, I did pretty much the same.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot you were a victim, too,” Josh realized.
“Well, I got beat up,” Damon responded, not liking the label of victim. “And I took it easy for a while after getting out of the hospital.”
“What was the outcome of all that?” Josh asked.
“Had a trial. I had to testify, and so did some others, including Bryce. Three guys were found guilty. That’s Bick Lomax, Mack Campbell, and Ken Carlyle,” Damon related.
“But, aren’t they back in school now?” Josh asked.
“Well, I don’t know about Carlyle,” Damon reported. “As far as I know, he’s serving his sentence. But, yes, Lomax and Campbell are back.”
“How come?” Josh pushed.
“As near as I can figure out, their families have high priced lawyers, who are delaying everything and appealing all along the way, so they’re out on appeal. Then, our enlightened University administration decided that, as long as they are out on appeal, they have not been convicted of anything, which I guess is technically correct. Anyway, they were let back in at the beginning of the semester,” Damon related with some asperity.
“The corruption of the capitalist system ....” Josh began, but he was interrupted by Damon.
“Please! I’m in this Political Theory class with Dr. Stevens as a requirement for my Political Science major. I spent a good part of today trying to read Marx. My brain is tired. I don’t want to hear any more about the problems of the capitalist system,” Damon protested.
“But Marx is the key. He had it all figured out right at the outset,” Josh replied.
“Maybe. Have you actually read him?” Damon asked.
“Um, not extensively. Excerpts,” Josh admitted.
“That’s what we were assigned. Thank goodness, we were not told to read the entire Das Kapital. It’s some of the most boring prose I’ve encountered since I tried reading an assignment from a high school teacher copied from a book on educational theory,” Damon insisted.
“Boring? But Marx is revolutionary,” Josh insisted.
Damon looked skeptical. “His ideas, maybe, his prose, no way.”
“Marx is totally based on Rousseau, so he’s not really right at the beginning. That’s more my period,” Bryce inserted, feeling left out.
“Rousseau? I thought he was a Romantic?” Josh protested.
“Yeah, at the outset of the Romantic Movement. He’s the guy who first proposed that everyone is really a great guy, but is oppressed by the institution of private property. I think Marx liked that,” Bryce said.
“Yeah, but ... Marx is the opposite of Romantic,” Josh replied, now looking confused again.
“Not really. Think about it. Everyone completely equal and cooperating. Government withering away. Everyone happy. Sounds pretty Romantic to me,” Bryce asserted.
“Did we come there to debate Marx?” Damon asked.
“No, of course not,” Josh immediately seconded that. He felt he needed more time to investigate Marx.
“I agree,” Bryce said. “Earlier I said I had two specific things in mind, and one more general, for wanting to meet with you, Josh. We covered one of the specifics. You’re recovering satisfactorily from being beaten by those thugs on campus. The other specific I wanted was to get your father’s e-mail address.”
“Why is that?” Josh asked.
“I have a report from Hunter Matthews about the source of a blog posted by a guy who admits being part of the group which beat you up. You are alluded to more than once. Damon and I met with campus security and Dr. Dickinson this morning, and they have copies, and I sent copies to my dad and to Mr. Castleman, but your father was the third lawyer who put pressure on the Administration, and he needs a copy as well,” Bryce summarized.
“Wow. That’s a lot to take in,” Josh commented. “Okay, I know your father and mine cooperated to put pressure on the administration, so I’m no longer suspended. I don’t know the third person you mentioned. Remember, I’ve sort of been out of it.”
Bryce considered. “Let me back up some. And this gets into the generic reason for meeting. When we found out that those who participated in the demonstration last week were being painted as disturbers of the peace, and were suspended, I contacted my father, who is a lawyer, and some other people contacted others. Dad got together with your father and Mark Castleman, who is a lawyer here in Clifton. The three of them put pressure on the President, and contacted the Governor of the state. That’s what resulted in President Rodes cancelling the suspensions.”
“Okay. I’m with you. Remember, I was in the hospital part of this time, and my dad is not very forthcoming with information. Just his personality, not anything hostile. I’m listening,” Josh said.
“Have you read Annette Rimbault’s articles in the local paper?” Bryce asked.
“Yeah, but I didn’t know how much to credit all that,” Josh admitted.
“Josh, really,” Bryce admonished him. “For someone who claims to be a realist, you are lacking here. Annette would not have taken that step without good evidence.”
“Who’s Annette? You seem to know her,” Josh asked.
Bryce and Damon both laughed. “She’s way above us,” Damon joked.
Josh looked more confused.
Bryce took pity on him. “What Damon is referring to is that Annette and her boyfriend have the apartment directly above us over at the Caldwell house. We’ve know them since last spring, at least casually, and more so lately.”
“So, she’s a student at the University?” Josh asked.
“Definitely. In fact, she interviewed you. You must have been really out of it. All the more reason why she would not take a chance on publishing anything without solid proof. Like me, she doesn’t want to be expelled. You can rest assured that everything in those articles is true, and it was those articles which aroused enough controversy that the Governor told Rodes to shape up or ship out,” Bryce stated.
“You’re kidding,” a now awed Josh responded.
“Annette got hold of a recording,” Bryce continued. “On Monday morning, Governor Buckner called Rodes, and told him to get rid of the bad publicity or look for a new job.”
“No shit!” a now convinced Josh replied.
Damon grinned. “And guess who has a copy of that telephone conversation.”
“You don’t!” Josh exclaimed.
“We do, and so does Annette, and Sigma Alpha fraternity, and Dr. Caldwell,” Bryce replied. “And probably half the staff in Dinklemore Hall,” he added.
“Oh, man, that’s priceless,” Josh exclaimed. “I want to hear that some time real soon.”
“Nothing easier,” Damon said. “As I am the chief cook and bottle washer at the Watson-Winslow establishment, I’m inviting you to dinner after Homecoming, on Sunday ... no, cancel that. We have other obligations on Sunday. On Monday evening. Highlight of the evening will be my dinner, but you can also listen to the recording. After the meal, so as not to spoil your appetite.”
Josh looked from Damon to Bryce and back again.
Bryce laughed. “He’s serious. Damon has developed into a first class chef. He put on a repast for Mark Rimbault and me yesterday which was absolutely beyond compare.”
“Okay, I accept,” Josh said. “You guys have done nothing but surprise me since the moment you sat down, especially you, Damon, with that act.”
Bryce and Damon again exchanged glances. “You are entirely too solemn,” Bryce declared. “We like to laugh a little along with whatever else we do.”
“But there are so many serious problems ....” Josh began.
“And being solemn about them accomplishes nothing except giving you heartburn, or maybe ulcers,” Bryce insisted. “It takes nothing away from the seriousness of the world’s problems to also enjoy the good things in life and laugh a little.”
Josh did not know how to respond to that, so he picked up three empty glasses and went up to the bar for refills. By the time he got back, he was ready with another question.
“Okay, you guys have surprised me more than once this evening. I admit it. But what’s this about a blog with references to me?”
Again Bryce and Damon exchanged glances.
“You do deserve to know,” Bryce cautiously began, “and it’s part of the generic reason for meeting with you, but you will probably flip out when you read it. Promise you will have a responsible person there who can take care of you if you go too far, or I won’t give you the URL.”
“You’re kidding,” Josh expressed disbelief.
“No, seriously. You can get very excitable, and I don’t want you to go off half-cocked and do something that’ll harm you or get you in trouble,” Bryce insisted.
“You are serious,” Josh realized.
“Yeah, both of us,” Damon responded.
Josh considered. “I have a friend,” he began. Then, seeing the looks on the faces across the booth, he insisted, “I really do. Not just a political ally. In fact, we disagree on many things, and when he came to see me in the hospital, he told me I was a damn fool and deserved what I got.”
“He must be a good friend if you two are still together after that,” Bryce grinned.
“Not together in the sense you might expect. Brian is straight,” Josh announced. “I’ve known him since Kindergarten. He was the first person I told I was gay. He gave me a bloody nose,” Josh related with a grin, with the tone of his voice leaving no doubt about his truthfulness or sincerity. “He’s a senior, like me, engaged to be married when he graduates. I’ll be his best man. I’ll even get a haircut for that. He’s also an Economics major, and disagrees with everything I say about Marx.”
“Sounds like the perfect person,” Bryce decided.
“I promise, I’ll have him over when I check out this blog you’re talking about. Now, tell me about it,” Josh insisted.
“Okay,” Bryce agreed. “It’s called ‘Aryans Forever’ ... not, I suspect, one you’ve ever looked up. We found out about it from a fraternity brother. Pledge, actually. The author of this site boasts of taking part in the gay bashing last week, and said several things which, I have no doubt, are references to you, although he uses no names. There are also references to the attack on Peter Boyington.”
“I’ve wondered ....” Josh began, then paused.
“Me too,” Bryce said. “I’m pretty sure you were the intended victim of that attack, and Peter was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“I don’t know how I can make it up to him,” Josh moaned.
“Remember, Josh, it was not you who bashed Peter. Any guilt rests with the homophobes who carried out that attack. It would have done neither Peter nor anyone else any good if you had been the victim. If you want to apologize to Peter, apologize for outing him before he was ready. But even that has turned out better than it might have,” Bryce said with some force.
“I haven’t seen Peter since leaving the hospital,” Josh said with a sense of guilt.
“Then go visit him tomorrow,” Damon said. “His folks are coming to take him back home on Saturday. We went to see him at lunch time.”
“Back to the blog,” Bryce insisted, “while it’s pretty clear that the author and his friend were involved in the attack on you guys on last Wednesday, it’s not clear who attacked Peter. That remains a mystery. The attackers are referred to as something like allies or associates, I forget the exact wording.”
“So that remains an unresolved mystery,” Josh mused.
“Yes. And until it is resolved, we cannot regard the campus as safe not only for gays like us, but anyone else in a minority classification. The guys on that blog hate a lot of people, and they are violent. I’m counting on you for help in resolving all this,” Bryce said.
“Me? What can I do?” Josh said in surprise.
“Well, for a beginning, you can give me your father’s e-mail address. And you can get off your duff, and quit feeling sorry for yourself, and get involved again,” Bryce said.
Josh looked at Damon. “Not exactly reticent, is he?”
Damon grinned. “Not when it comes to something like this.”
“I want you to get off your soap box, and forget about all your prejudices against elite boys like me, and against fraternities, and against those who are more cautious than you, and get out there and find out some useful information,” Bryce insisted. “You have different contacts than I do, or than Annette does. All we know is that there were three of them, that they have some connection to the para-military group which beat you up, and that there is a smell of cinnamon associated in some as yet unknown way with them. We need a lot more.”
“Have you actually met my father?” Josh unexpectedly asked.
“No. I only know of him,” Bryce admitted.
“He’s about as staid an attorney as any caricature, but he will go at it like a bulldog if he thinks there’s an injustice,” Josh said with obvious admiration in his voice. “I’ll do the same,” he promised.
“Couldn’t ask for more,” Bryce expressed satisfaction. “Now, the address.”
And so Josh gave Bryce his father’s e-mail, and in returned received not only the reference to the blog, but also a copy of Hunter’s report. By the time they broke up, there was no doubt that, despite different personalities and approaches, they were allies, maybe even friends. And the next LGBT meeting was still a week away.