Date: Fri, 09 May 2003 15:01:21 -0500 From: A. Janes Subject: Now Let Me Get This Straight, part 3 Now Let Me Get This Straight, part 3 By Austin Janes Edward fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow and towards dawn began to dream. He seemed to be in the park watching two squirrels chase one another. The agile creatures were undulating like sine waves as they sped to and fro. As sometimes happens in dreams, the perspective changed mysteriously, and it was now Edward himself who was being chased by another man. Try as he might, he couldn't make out the other man's face. Edward could feel the adrenaline pumping as he tried to outrun his pursuer. He tore around the corner of a building in the park and suddenly found himself at a dead end. Paralyzed now against a wall, he saw the man approach him casually, masterfully. He could only watch as the man came up to him, pressing his body against Edward's, the man's hands flat against the wall on either side of Edward's head, pinning him. He could feel the warmth of the man's breath. The man then lifted up Edward's chin and brought his lips gently to Edward's. Edward couldn't resist the kiss. He felt the man's tongue penetrate his mouth, demanding submission. He pressed back hungrily, trying to lose himself in the man's embrace... Edward's eyes popped open. His hands, which had been resting on his chest, moved down gingerly to inspect the warm wetness in his crotch. "Oh, yuck..." he thought, as he threw off the covers and stumbled his way to the bathroom. He switched on the lights and was momentarily blinded. Then, shedding his soiled boxers, he wadded them up and threw them in a corner. Naked now, he cleaned himself up as best he could with a cold washcloth before stumbling back to bed. As he started to drift off to sleep again, he thought "I haven't had a wet dream in years..." Then, just at the moment of sleep, he was startled back into consciousness by the sudden realization that the man in his dream was--Mr. D'Arcy! Panic gripped him. His heart raced, and it was more than an hour before he could finally fall asleep once more. Years of regular habits made it impossible for Edward to sleep much past eight o'clock. He and Josh had agreed that because of their late night at the opera ball, they would go to the eleven o'clock service at St. Sciurus instead of the one at nine. Nevertheless, as soon as he got up Edward showered, trimmed his beard and dressed for church, albeit more casually than usual. He was still bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, but managed to notice the three inches of snow on the ground when he went out to get the newspapers. He started the coffee brewing and sat down in his favorite chair ready to start the New York Times crossword puzzle. After filling in the first few words his mind wandered back to his dream. In the bright morning light, Mr. D'Arcy no longer held the same power over him. He was sure he could put him back in the box of forbidden sexual thoughts and file it on a shelf in the far reaches of his libido. "Mr. D'Arcy's not even gay," he thought. "He's just some homophobic rich guy who likes opera. That's all." But what about his friendship with Mr. Bingley? How could Mr. D'Arcy be homophobic? "Well, Mr. Bingley is another rich guy, so Mr. D'Arcy could conveniently ignore his sexual orientation." And in a like manner, Edward continued to convince himself that Mr. D'Arcy could be safely ignored. Meanwhile, in the morning room of a large mansion on Portland Place, someone was thinking about Edward. Caroline Bingley, too, had awoken earlier than she had wanted to. The housekeeper had Sunday off, so Ms. Bingley thought there wouldn't be any coffee when she came downstairs in her thick terrycloth bathrobe, but someone--probably her brother--had programmed the coffee maker to come on automatically in the large, newly renovated kitchen, and she was able to help herself. As she sat with her legs crossed under her in an overstuffed armchair near the window, coffee mug in hand, looking out over the snow-covered grounds, she missed entirely the bright red cardinal perched on a nearby branch chirruping his morning song. She was deep in thought. Mr. D'Arcy might think himself to be cautious, but he was no match for Ms. Bingley's perspicacity. She had noticed him watching Edward. Her suspicions were somewhat allayed by his caustic remark about the poor man, but Mr. D'Arcy's continuing interest in Edward was readily apparent to her. She had no doubt that Mr. D'Arcy was gay. She even surmised that he had had an affair with her brother, although she also could tell that the relationship had cooled off. But she was damned if she was going to allow Mr. D'Arcy to waste himself on someone like Edward. She had other plans for Mr. D'Arcy. Having grown up in a middle class environment, Ms. Bingley yearned for better things. Her older sister, Louisa, had settled for her high school sweetheart, Tommy Hurst, who had gone right from high school to a job at a casino in Atlantic City. He had worked his way up to blackjack dealer, and the couple now had the prescribed 2.3 children, a Ford Windstar minivan, and a golden retriever named Max. Their brother's unexpected success was Ms. Bingley's ticket out of mediocrity--or so she hoped. His influence got her a job at one of the premier art galleries in New York, Soba Nudla in SoHo, something her art history degree from Hudson County Community College would never have done. Her relationship with her brother also allowed her to take time off frequently from her job "because Chaz needs me". It was doubtful she was much needed around the gallery anyway. But the disadvantage of her brother's company was that the men she met through him tended to be gay. When Mr. D'Arcy arrived on the scene, she easily figured out his relationship with her brother. She could also see how hard Mr. D'Arcy tried to conceal his sexual orientation. Though she would not have read the article in The Gayzette, she knew instinctively that someone in Mr. D'Arcy's position and at his age would be looked upon as suspect if he remained a bachelor. Ms. Bingley thought Mr. D'Arcy was in need of a wife--and she herself was the perfect choice. She was pretty enough, thin enough and, with Mr. D'Arcy's money, would be rich enough to be the ideal trophy wife--or beard, to be more exact. She was even convinced that, given time, Mr. D'Arcy would also find her sexually fulfilling. To her way of thinking, a gay man--especially a rich, handsome one like Mr. D'Arcy--only needed the right woman to restore him to heterosexuality. And even if that didn't work, there were lots of things worse than being married to a gay Mr. D'Arcy. He would have his peccadilloes and she would have hers. It could be an arrangement beneficial to them both. At the same time, her brother was her fallback position. She considered herself indispensable to him, and acted more or less as his social secretary. She could put up with his ridiculous do-gooding notions because of the parties and other social events they brought with them. What she could not tolerate, however, was some geeky upstart like Josh Bennett replacing her in her brother's life. She had plans for her brother, too. Mr. D'Arcy's half-brother, Stan, was still a bit of an "unknown quantity" to Ms. Bingley. Mr. D'Arcy didn't talk a lot about him, but reading between the lines, she had determined that he must be gay, too. She knew Chaz had met him and seemed to like him, so why not get the two of them together? If this "gay business" was kept in the family, her dream bubble of wealth and fame was much less likely to be burst by some sordid scandal. At present, the Bennett cousins were not an immediate threat, as she perceived it, but they would bear watching. While Caroline Bingley drank the last mouthful of coffee in her mug, hoping against hope her brother would be up soon to make breakfast, the geeky upstart was descending the staircase over at the townhouse on Laclede Avenue. He found the pot of coffee with two empty mugs beside it, filled them both up and brought them into the living room, where his cousin was ostensibly doing the crossword puzzle but rather seemed to be staring off into space. "Tough clue, Eddie?" Josh asked. Edward looked up from his daydreaming. "What? Oh, the puzzle! My mind must have wandered off." Josh handed him a mug of coffee and sat in the chair beside his cousin's. Edward noticed he was wearing a flannel shirt, jeans and hiking boots. "Aren't you going to church with me this morning, Josh?" "Whadda ya mean?" "You're wearing jeans and boots." "So are you, dude!" Josh countered with a quizzical smile. Edward realized he, too, had on a flannel shirt, jeans and boots. He colored and quickly explained, "It's kinda messy out there this morning. The sun is melting the snow, and I thought the walk to church might be sloppy." "Bingo!" replied Josh. He was amazed at how easily Edward blushed--and often for the oddest reasons. "Eddie, you are like a major space cadet this morning! What up, dude?" Edward was reluctant to mention Mr. D'Arcy. "I'm just tired from last night, I guess. How 'bout you? You look raring to go!" "'Raring to go'?" Josh smirked. "You are too weird for words sometimes, Eddie!" "What? It's a legitimate expression," Edward said, affecting a look of offended dignity. "Despite what you think, Josh, I'm not an antique yet." "No, you just play one on TV!" Josh shot back. Edward looked for something to throw at him. Failing that, he took a noisy slurp from his coffee mug trying hard not to laugh. The pair then sat in silence for a few minutes each lost in his own thoughts. Finally Josh began, "I had a really good time last night, Eddie." "I gathered that," replied Edward with a wry smile. "But you know that 'lost half' thing I was telling you about? I don't think Chaz is my lost half, after all." Edward was suddenly very concerned. He looked at his cousin carefully. "Josh, what happened?" "Oh, nothin' really. It's just...Chaz is so awesome! He was like totally nice to me and everything, but I got to thinkin', what the fuck does some git from Geekville like me have to offer to a superstud like Chaz Bingley? As Charlotte said, he's way outta my league." "As you will recall, Charlotte said that the opera ball was way out of your league--not Charles Bingley. And she was wrong about the ball. You fit in beautifully!" Edward was quick to defend his cousin from his own self-doubts. He waxed eloquent, extolling Josh's many virtues: his consideration and generosity to others, his cheerful temperament, his killer good looks and even his humility. Edward finished his encomium, "In many ways, Josh, you're like too good for that Bingley dude!" Josh laughed at Edward's imitation of his speech patterns. "You're just saying that 'cause I'm your cousin." "And who should know better than someone who's watched you grow up, witnessed your triumphs and failures and even knows which nostril you pick first?" "Hey, dude! I don't pick my nose!" Now Josh was looking for something to throw. When Edward stopped laughing, he said, "Look, Josh, it was obvious even to me that Chaz likes you a lot, and how can you argue with the opinion of a superstud? I can't tell you that some meaningful relationship is going to develop between you two. But so what? Enjoy what you have now and let the future take care of itself." "Que sera sera! Thank you, Miss Doris Day!" "How does a mere infant like you know who Doris Day is?" "Hey, Eddie, ever heard of the AMC channel?" Josh thought the acronym stood for "Antique Movie Channel". "She's starred in mucho movies with Rock Hudson, and gettin' it on with him is like my all-time favorite jerk-off fantasy!" "Ooh, Josh, let's not go there! Don't we have a church service to go to or something? Why don't you go grab your coat and the bag of canned goods for the food pantry donation, and I'll turn off the coffee pot." _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ It being the season of Advent, Father Clarence's sermon was about what it meant to wait in hope for the coming of a Savior. Believing that the mind can only absorb what the seat can endure, Father Clarence never spoke for more than twenty minutes. And in that twenty minutes, Edward listened carefully relating what the aging priest said to his own circumstances. Edward, too, seemed to be waiting for something or someone to come into his life. Could some sort of other worldly Savior really fill the void that was inside him? It certainly hadn't happened to him yet. And how do you continue to wait when all hope seems to be gone? Edward decided it was best not to think too much about those things. Josh, Edward and Charlotte always sat together near the front of the Tudoresque church. After the final hymn was sung, the trio turned about to file out with the rest of the congregation. They quickly noticed Mr. Bingley who was in the last pew signaling to them. Josh's countenance lit up as they approached their new friend. Edward was impressed to see that Mr. Bingley had dressed in a black wool turtleneck--probably cashmere--black slacks, a black lambskin bomber jacket and black leather boots that had obviously never encountered a rain drop much less slushy snow; Mr. Bingley was one hot commodity that morning, and his explanation that he had decided to try St. Sciurus after Josh had recommended it so highly the previous night was transparently false to at least two of the people he was addressing. Indeed, Mr. Bingley had not darkened the inside of a church since he was thirteen and that was to attend an Easter service at Mount Springfield United Methodist Church in Nutley, New Jersey. With Josh and Mr. Bingley in front and Charlotte and Edward bringing up the rear trading knowing looks and smiles with each other, the four went out into the vestibule to greet Father Clarence. The priest, of course, warmly welcomed Mr. Bingley and urged him to come again whenever he was in town. To Edward, he said, "You're looking very well this morning!" "Have you had the prescription for your glasses checked recently, Father Clarence?" Edward replied with puzzlement. "I look like hell this morning!" Father Clarence giggled in a most unpriestly way, "Perhaps I wasn't talking about your physical self, my dear Edward. You have a most healthy spiritual glow about you!" "Now I know you're going blind!" Edward laughed. "But I did appreciate your sermon." "Thank you, Edward. I know I can always count on at least one member of the congregation to stay awake. So, are you and your friends off to meet your father at Nikko's?" "Oh, my Go...sh!" Edward quickly caught himself. "I forgot all about my father! We better run..." Almost every Sunday since his father's retirement, Edward, Josh and Charlotte would walk from church to Nikko's Cafˇ for a late breakfast with Mr. Bennett. Edward had forgotten, however, to tell him that they would be attending the later service that morning, so he worried that his father would have been sitting there waiting for them for over an hour. As they hurried out of the church, Charlotte had the foresight to ask Mr. Bingley if he would like to join them for breakfast. He begged off, temporarily at least, saying that he needed to take care of some things at home. He did offer to drive them to the cafˇ, but when they got to his BMW Z4 "Maldives blue" roadster, it was glaringly apparent that it would only accommodate two people. In an amazing show of gallantry, Josh urged Charlotte to take the passenger seat, but it didn't take much persuading by her and Edward to send off Josh with Mr. Bingley. Edward and Charlotte then took off at a quick pace to traverse the necessary four blocks. Nikko's Cafˇ was run by a family of second generation Greek-Americans and was a Central West End institution known especially for its fabulous breakfast food. Edward had a particular weakness for the gyros omelet and ordered it frequently. The place was buzzing with people when Charlotte and Edward arrived, and it took a few moments for them to spot Josh and Mr. Bennett seated at a table for eight in a far corner. With them were two men and a young woman. One of the men was Colonel Foster and next to him sat his new wife, Madison. Colonel Foster was the commander of the U. S. Army Recruiting Battalion in St. Louis and a regular patron at Nikko's. A man in his middle fifties, still fit, with a full head of graying hair and a bushy moustache to match, the perennial bachelor was presumed by most people to be gay, although heavily closeted--the military being what it is. Many eyebrows shot up, therefore, when Colonel Foster first brought a young woman less than half his age to the cafˇ one Sunday in the October just past and announced that she was his bride. Seated across from Colonel Foster and next to Mr. Bennett was an attractive man with strawberry blond hair and twinkling blue eyes also in military uniform whom Edward had never seen before. Introductions were made and Edward soon learned that the man had been transferred recently from the Recruiting Battalion in New York to the one in St. Louis. He was Sergeant First Class Henry Wickham, but he insisted that everyone call him Hank. Edward apologized profusely to his father for not telling him they would be late getting to Nikko's, but Mr. Bennett simply replied, "Ed, my boy, you worry too much! I've been having a great time swapping war stories with Hank and the Colonel. I didn't even realize you were late 'til Josh came running in here with his ass on fire." Everyone laughed except Edward, who never did understand his father's sense of humor. He also wondered what "war stories" he could have been swapping, since Mr. Bennett had never been in the military--he'd been too young for the Korean War and too old by the time the country became mired in Vietnam. Edward sighed and sat down in a chair that Sgt. Wickham had pulled out for him. The sergeant had an engaging charm that put everyone immediately at ease. His lively inquiries about St. Louis and the neighborhood soon made Edward feel like he was talking to an old friend. He couldn't help but notice that the sergeant was paying a lot of attention to him, and after surreptitiously establishing that there was no wedding band to be seen, he began to wonder if just perhaps Sgt. Wickham was coming on to him. Unlike the tumult of emotion set off by Mr. D'Arcy, the prospect of a little harmless flirting with the soldier sitting next to him seemed quite agreeable. Their conversation was interrupted, however, when Edward chanced to overhear a remark his father was making to Colonel Foster. "You know, Colonel, I'd always wished that Ed had gone into the military." "Oh, Dad, please!" Edward was beginning to get flustered. "You never told me that before!" "Well, I'm telling you now," Mr. Bennett continued. "It might've made a man out of you." Edward blushed furiously, but Sgt. Wickham came to his rescue. "Sir, the military isn't for everybody. I intended to follow a different career path myself, but..." Sgt. Wickham looked down as if he were remembering a painful time in his life. "Well, it didn't quite work out that way, and I found a home in the army instead." He then changed the subject, and the arrival of the waiter to take the orders of the newcomers spared Edward from any further scrutiny. During the meal, Sgt. Wickham regaled Edward with tales of army life and other adventures making him forget the incident with his father. The sergeant was in the middle of a story about boot camp at Fort Jackson, South Carolina, when Edward noticed Josh's expression suddenly become more animated. Edward turned around to see Mr. Bingley and Mr. D'Arcy entering the cafˇ. The two men quickly spotted the group in the corner and made their way over to them. Mr. Bingley greeted the people he knew and was soon introduced to those he didn't. Mr. D'Arcy, after a brief hello to Edward, had determined not to fix his eyes on him and had turned away when he noticed Sgt. Wickham. Edward was astonished to see that both men clearly reacted to one another, the one turning white, the other red. Finally, regaining his self-composure Sgt. Wickham gave Mr. D'Arcy a mock salute and the other looked away barely acknowledging the greeting. "What the hell was that all about?" Edward wondered to himself and longed to find out. Mr. Bingley apologized for not being able to stay for breakfast. Restaurant business of his own beckoned him, even on a Sunday, he explained. But he extended an invitation to the New Year's Eve opening of his restaurant once again to the whole group. "What kind of restaurant are you opening up?" Mr. Bennett asked him. "Italian, Mr. Bennett. We'll be offering the specialties of Tuscany!" "Well, I hope you do a good marinara sauce, Mr. Bingley. You can't make it with an Italian [Mr. Bennett pronounced it 'EYE-talian'] restaurant in this town unless you do a good marinara sauce." Edward prayed for a hole to open in the earth and swallow him up. Mr. D'Arcy was pointedly looking out the window. Mr. Bingley merely laughed and replied, "I'll make sure we have the best red sauce you ever tasted!" The two men said their goodbyes and were just about out the door when Mr. Bennett said to no one in particular, "Doesn't that Bingley fellow own a razor? I know it's the weekend, but the man could have at least shaved." Edward quickly responded, "Dad, not so loud! Mr. Bingley may have heard you." "What do I care if Osama bin Bingley heard me or not?" "Dad, that kind of beard is fashionable right now for men." "You're puttin' me on, Ed! No one would intentionally want to look like that." Realizing he was never going to win this argument with his father, Edward asked Sgt. Wickham to finish his story about Fort Jackson. The sergeant picked up the thread of his story again as if the recent interruption had not occurred and soon had the group enthralled once more. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ As they were leaving Nikko's, Mr. Bennett pulled a piece of paper out of his coat pocket and handed Edward a printout of an e-mail he had recently received. "Ed, you better deal with this. Your Uncle Ned forwarded it to me. It's from some kook named Bill Collins. He claims he's related to your mother. I also e-mailed it to you, but I know you don't check your e-mail very often." This was a rebuke to Edward who was often taken to task if he didn't answer his father's e-mails within the hour they were sent. "Sounds like the guy is planning to come here this week and is looking for a place to stay." "Dad, Lydia is coming this week. I can't possibly put up anyone else." "Well, don't look at me. I've just got the one bedroom." Edward decided he needed to look at the e-mail himself. <