Leaving the Newman Center, and just a little embarrassed by Patricia’s kiss, Bryce made his way to the apartment he shared with Damon. He had sent the news that he had also invited Roland Lyle to dinner, so Damon knew to prepare for five, a greater task than originally intended when Damon extended his invitation to Josh last Thursday. As a result, when he arrived Bryce found himself commandeered as a kitchen boy, being told in imperious terms to do this and that. ‘Prepare the salad!’ ‘No, don’t just dump things together, toss them to mingle the ingredients!’ ‘Set the table!’ ‘Prepare the wine!’ ‘Get out of my way or you’ll get hot grease down your shirt!’ Only about five minutes before six, the time the others were invited to arrive, did Damon rest, and allow Bryce to rest as well.
“I think we’ll make it without a disaster,” Damon assessed the situation.
“Damon, you always do a bang-up job,” Bryce began, but before he could extend his accolades, the buzzer sounded, indicating someone was at the side door.
Bryce pushed the corresponding button to release the lock mechanism, and before long Roland and Marc were at the apartment door. They knew each other from the English history class, of course, and so were talking amiably when they entered the apartment. Only a minute or two later, the buzzer sounded again, and this time it was Josh on the stairs. Jackets were removed. Introductions were made. And everyone was herded towards the table where Damon prepared to preside. He ordered Bryce to place various dishes on the table, while he explained to the guests that he would enforce the rule that no really serious discussion take place over dinner. He insisted that it was bad for the digestion. Everything looked and smelled delicious, so the five of them dug in, and engaged only in casual conversation over their meal.
“You guys have a great apartment here,” Josh remarked. This was his first visit.
“Yeah, I guess we kind of lucked out,” Bryce related. “Damon and I decided over the summer that we would look for a place off campus, and we actually came back early to do some apartment shopping, but were making no progress. The situation seemed pretty desperate, when Dr. Dickinson suggested trying this place.”
“Are you acquainted with Dr. Dickinson?” Marc asked Josh.
“I’ve heard him spoken of, but I never had him for a class or anything,” Josh replied.
“Here you are, a senior, and have missed one of the signature experiences of U of C,” Damon joked. “I had him for freshman history last year. I thought he would work my butt off.”
“But you learned a lot,” Bryce interjected.
“I learned a lot in just about every class last year.” Turning to Josh, Damon explained, “My high school was in the projects of Chicago. I don’t think I learned a damn thing in classes there. I learned a lot those years, but not in the classroom.”
“Now, Damon,” Bryce admonished his partner, “you explicitly banned serious topics from the dinner table, and I think your experiences in the projects comes under that heading.”
Damon huffed, but shut up.
“Well, I did have the freshman world history sequence,” Josh admitted, “as it’s required for my Sociology major. But I had Dr. Johnson, who everyone said was an easy grader. He was.”
“Is Sociology a real major?” Marc joked. “I thought it was just a place where people gathered to bemoan the state of the world.”
“No, it’s where they try to reduce all the problems of the world to statistics,” Bryce continued the raillery.
“Oh no you don’t!” Damon immediately objected. “If I can’t complain about my upbringing in the projects, at least I claim freedom from torture by statistics.”
Bryce laughed. “Not exactly Damon’s favorite class this term,” he commented.
“I’ve heard it all before,” Josh responded. “At least we in Sociology try to recognize real problems, and not live in some kind of fantasy world above all the mess. What room in the Ivory Tower do you inhabit, Marc?”
“I’m a History major, like Bryce and Roland,” Marc responded.
“Stories about old dead white men. Who really knows whether any of it is true?” Josh teased.
Bryce, Marc, and Roland immediately booed him.
“Can I get back to explaining how we got this apartment?” Bryce asked.
“Oh, were you explaining something?” Roland teased.
“Pledge ...” Bryce began, but Damon immediately interrupted him.
“None of that. Roland was invited as our guest, so we’ll have none of that pledge and mentor business tonight,” he decreed. “Roland is Bryce’s pledge at SAT,” he explained to Josh and Marc.
“You poor thing,” Marc commiserated.
“Okay, I won’t tell you about Dr. Caldwell,” Bryce pretended to be offended.
“Well, it’s a nice apartment, anyway,” Josh reiterated. “Nothing like the hovel where I live.”
“How come you’re living in a hovel?” Bryce asked. “I mean, I know the pickings are kind of slim, but you’ve been around for three plus years, and surely have had an opportunity to find something decent. And, despite your appalling taste in clothes, I know you come from a fairly affluent background, so it’s not a lack of resources.”
“I choose to live where I do as a sign of solidarity with the poor and exploited,” Josh rather pompously proclaimed.
“Oh, well, if you choose to live in a hovel, then I have no sympathy for you,” Bryce said. “I thought maybe you had been cut off financially for some reason.”
“I guess some people just like hovels,” Damon mused. “I had more than my share of them growing up. I’ll take this any day.”
With that, dinner came to an end, and everyone pitched in to clear off, then reassembled in the lounge area. There would be no retreat to the library this evening, as all five guys were included in the discussions. As they pushed chairs into something resembling a lopsided circle, Marc commented, “That’s an impressive staircase. But does Dr. Caldwell have to put up with all the noise you guys make up here?”
“No,” Bryce explained. “On his level, the staircase is blocked off by some paneling. Up here, there’s just that sort of gate to keep people from falling down the stairs, but below it’s all completely invisible. I think that was more to save on the heating bill than anything else, but it’s very nicely done. I’ve noticed on the occasions when we were invited down to tea. And it can be removed without too much difficulty, I suspect, should a future owner want to return the house to a single family dwelling. I think that’s what Dr. Caldwell is hoping for.”
“Invited to tea?” Josh queried.
“Yeah. I was a little skeptical ... what am I saying? I was a lot skeptical when we were first invited,” Damon said. “But it’s really pretty cool. We go down about once every two or three weeks in the afternoon, and actually have hot tea and little sandwiches. But the cool part is talking with Dr. Caldwell. He’s been around, and was on the faculty for years. He told us some neat stuff about our beloved President Rodes, for example, and about academic freedom and its abuses.”
“How can you abuse academic freedom?” Josh asked with an edge to his voice. Josh was one of those who tended to see anything with the word ‘freedom’ attached to it as unlimited.
“As Dr. Caldwell explained it, faculty members should be given complete freedom to research and to teach their discipline. Faculty are trained in a specific area, and are kind of experts in that area, and others, like the legislature or the public or some governing board, should not try to tell them how to engage in their specialty, even if it creates controversy. But the abuse comes in when members of the faculty use their position to try to impose their ideas on non-related matters on their students, or pretend to be experts in matters outside their subject,” Damon explained. “If a Professor of Economics is speaking on an economic subject, then he’s engaged in a professional activity, but if that same Professor is speaking on modern art or evangelical religion, he has no more authority than I do.”
“So that’s where you got the idea about Dr. Anjot and the Moslems,” Marc said to Bryce.
That, in turn, led to an explanation of the incident in the classroom that morning.
“But,” Josh objected, “isn’t that kind of confining, putting people in neat little compartments?”
“As I understand it,” Bryce said, “this theory does not prevent an individual faculty member from being as active in various causes or interests as anyone else. For example, an historian can be an anti-war protester or a pro-life advocate. But he can’t claim the authority of the academy for his private causes. He can’t be Professor Jones when marching in a pro-life parade. He can only be John Jones, private person.”
“I’ll have to think about that,” Josh said.
“Well,” Marc said, “this is all very nice. And I definitely appreciate another dinner from master chef Damon. But did you have any specific reason for having us here tonight?”
Damon preened at the compliments to his culinary talents.
“Yes and no,” Bryce replied. “I do not have a specific purpose, in the sense of some job to be done or the like. But I did want all of us to get better acquainted. I want us to try to remove any misconceptions that might cause tensions or conflict among us. And I want us to discuss the events on campus that directly affect those of us in the gay community, and sort of pool our resources.”
“Oh, so ...” Josh began.
“Are you....?” Marc probed.
Damon laughed. “We’re all as queer as a three dollar bill. So, I guess what Bryce is getting at in his round-about way, is we have things in common, so maybe we can be of some use to each other. I must admit, though, that I am a little confused about you, Roland. I invited Josh after we had a nice long talk at Pat’s on Thursday, and then Bryce and I talked about including Marc. But I got a text from my partner here, with no explanation, saying he had invited you as well. Not that I’m objecting, mind you, but I’m wondering.”
Roland looked a bit embarrassed at that.
“I do have a reason,” Bryce explained. “Each of us has resources and expertise the others don’t. Roland is local. His uncle, Mark Castleman, is one of the lawyers along with Josh’s father and my dad, who are putting pressure on the Administration. I think he can bring something to our discussion none of the rest of us can provide.”
“That makes sense,” Josh agreed. “As I recall, last Thursday Bryce made some similar comment about me. That is, his comment about me having contacts and insights others might not have. I’m still not forgiving him for the comment about getting off my duff.”
“It worked, didn’t it?” Bryce inserted into the conversation.
“Maybe,” Josh conceded. “We’ll have to see how this plays out.”
“Let’s go over the events on campus, beginning with the attack on Peter Boyington back on October 10th, and see whether we can come up with anything.”
And so they began rehashing the events of the past two weeks. After each person had contributed what he knew, Bryce asked, “I think we’re agreed that the attack on Peter is the key to everything else. Do any of you have any new information?”
“How so? I mean, how is the attack on Peter so central?” Roland questioned.
“Well, it set off a series of events, like Josh’s demonstrations on the quad. But the most important thing is that is showed that there are people, presumably people on campus, who are so biased against us gays that they are willing to use violence to express their disapproval. And, as long as those people are not exposed, none of us is safe.”
“I agree, and I think I might have some new information, but it’s kind of nebulous,” Josh volunteered.
‘Spill it. We’ll see how it fits into what we do know,” Bryce suggested.
“Okay. You told me to check my sources, and I did over the past few days. Several guys I know said someone named Shuttlesworth or Cuttlesworth, or something like that, was involved in the attack on Peter. But I don’t know anyone with a name like that.”
“Oh, I do,” Roland immediately jumped in. “I went to school with Ed Cuttlesworth. We were both students at the local high school called Clifton Preparatory Academy, or Prep for short. It’s the alternative to the Catholic school, Lord Baltimore High, and both are miles ahead of any of the public schools.”
“Elitism,” Josh commented.
“I suppose, but if you want the best education available, and, admittedly, some other perks, then you go to one or the other here in Clifton,” Roland said.
“And I experienced what the public schools have to offer, and I don’t appreciate it one bit,” Damon added.
Seeing Josh begin to gird for battle, Bryce intervened. “Let’s put aside the problems of the schools, and hear what Josh has to say about Ed Cuttlesworth.”
Reluctantly abandoning his advocacy of public schooling, Josh focused on his news. “Two different guys I know said something about this Cuttlesworth guy. One of them is real butch. One of my sources, you understand. He claims he talked to this Cuttlesworth guy at some kind of Gau meeting or something. I really don’t like my source, and I think he has serious problems, but he does have access to places and people I would never encounter,” Josh explained. “He is into hurting people, and I think that’s reprehensible, even if they accept it. You know, the S and M people.”
“S and M?” Roland queried.
“Sadism and Masochism,” Bryce explained. “A bunch of psychos in my opinion. But go on, Josh.”
“Well, this source says this Cuttlesworth guy was boasting that he was involved in beating up what he called ‘that little weakling, Boyington.’ He, uh, he also said they got the wrong guy,” Josh added.
“Josh, I know you feel bad about the idea that you were the intended victim, and Peter just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, but, like I said the other night, it would have done neither Peter nor anyone else any good if they beat up you instead,” Bryce immediately jumped in.
“Yeah, okay. But I’m in this to the end. I owe Peter that much,” Josh insisted. “My source is gay. I don’t think the guys he associates with in that meeting of his know that, or he would not be safe there. I kind of feel sorry for the mixed up S.O.B.” Josh added.
“What about your other source?” Bryce asked.
“Okay, this is another friend of mine. You may know him, but I’ll respect his privacy, even though you may have seen him walk out of a LGBT meeting with me last spring,” Josh grinned, pushing a few buttons.
“Did he come back with you this term?” Damon asked.
“Yeah, he did,” Josh confirmed.
“Then, no problem, right?” Damon insisted.
“Right. I was just setting the stage,” Josh stated. “Anyway source number 2 simply reported overhearing a conversation between this Cuttlesworth character, who is in a class with him, and someone he did not recognize. But they were talking about beating up Peter. The Cuttlesworth guys says, ‘I gave him a pretty good punch, but you got him better when you jumped on his leg.’ The other guy responded, ‘Yeah, I get great ideas from time to time about how to deal with disgusting queers.’ Evidently at that point they noticed my source listening in, and they moved away.”
“Okay,” Bryce summed up, “we have here pretty strong suspicions that Ed Cuttlesworth was one of the guys involved in the attack on Peter. That puts us ahead of where we were an hour ago. And if Ed was involved, then there’s a good chance his buddy Buck Lomax was, too. But these are hearsay reports. We need definite proof before we go to anyone like Roland’s uncle and ask for action.”
“If Cuttlesworth and Buck Lomax were involved, then it’s a pretty good guess that the other two were Bick Lomax and Mack Campbell. After all, I know without a doubt that those two were the ones who attacked me last year,” Damon added.
“Seems reasonable,” Marc agreed.
“Is there anything else that needs explanation?” Josh asked.
“Well, one thing which bothers me is this bit about the smell of cinnamon. It keeps popping up in Peter’s account of the attack, and I just know I heard something else along those lines, but I can’t make the connection,” Bryce puzzled.
“Oh, I can contribute to that,” Roland said. “Like I told you, I went through school with Ed, and that means with Buck Lomax, too. Those two have been as thick as thieves forever. Buck has this habit of sucking on these little red candies. I think they’re called Red Hots. He’s always popping them in his mouth. Got in trouble with a couple of teachers for doing that during class,” Roland chuckled. “Anyway, they have a strong cinnamon smell.”
“That’s it, then!” Bryce enthused. “You mentioned that once before, but I could not dredge up the memory. Now we have arrows pointing to that bunch of homophobes from several directions.”
“Yeah, now all we need to do is come up with some definite evidence,” Marc poured ice water on his enthusiasm.
The five guys talked for another hour, but came up with no more real clues. All they could do was agree to keep a keen lookout for anything supporting their thesis. And, they agreed to present their findings to the three lawyers who were working on a different level toward the same end of clearing up the mystery of the attack on Peter and thus helping to make the campus a safer place.
Before they broke up, Bryce drafted a letter to his father, Josh’s father, and Roland’s uncle setting forth the results of their bull session, and got approval from the others as to the wording and the like. They made certain that what they said was properly identified as unproven, but information which might later be of value. He then sent it off.
As they broke up, Marc hung back a little, so he had a chance to speak to Bryce alone.
“This was a really interesting evening, even apart from the excellent meal which got it off to a great start. But I’m curious. Why me? I don’t seem to fit,” he asked Bryce.
“Marc, I am hoping to get you more involved. You seem to me to be a smart guy with lots to contribute, but so far you’ve spent all your energy in feeling sorry for yourself,” Bryce undiplomatically told him.
Marc reared back. Then he relaxed a bit. “You don’t pull any punches, do you?”
“I’m trying to motivate you,” Bryce asserted.
“I’m interested. No promises,” Marc said as he also took his leave.