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The author “Chance” is me, “Larkin” This is an effort to re-compose my old roster into a new roster comprised old and new works, re-written and done with more careful editing. (omitting junk) I hope you will understand.

Please send comments to: larkin@tutanota.com...And I will respond

First published a year and a half ago under the title of “New York 1912” placed in the historical forum but a goodly number of people missed it. This gives me the opportunity to tidy it up and add to it here and there and restructure the ending.

This is a work of fiction. All disclaimers associated with homosexuality will apply without exception. There is reference to some drug use that is in character with the period but it is only incidental and not to proselytize. Persons portrayed in this story are fictitious or at best, coincidental.

Waiting for the Titanic

Part 10

1916, Billy's emergence

So as not to bore you with my life during periods of domesticity,  I have reserved my diary entries for exceptional events.

Billy was in his sophomore year at St Paul's and on this day, he brought a friend home. The boy's brown hair was carefully combed. Alvin Reed was as different from Billy as night and day. He was a senior due to graduate from St Paul's. He was taller than me, and dreadfully serious.

He shook my hand "It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Howell."

It was when I turned to see an adoring expression on Billy's face that I suddenly realized that this was a teenage crush.

Mr. Reed as he liked to be called, was a football player and was very formal and formidable for a 17 year old. "Yes, I am enrolled in Columbia in the Fall, I plan to study law."

Remembering that it was where Billy wanted to go. Don't you mean Columbia College in Morningside Heights?"

"Yes, they changed its name to just Columbia."

He was also mature and manly, not looking at all like a student but instead like a fresh young adult returning from the barber shop.  We shared a luncheon together where he told me all about himself and all his exploits and his family and his grades and his plans.

"I'd like to marry and I have a planned engagement but I don't think the girl is up to my families standards so I am afraid I may have to break it off."

I must confess that I did not like him at all, if fact, I hated the very sight of him. Billy sat next to him and seemed to hang on his every word. I was confronted with a complex situation. There was my role as a father where a stranger has come to steal my child away and then do terrible things to my innocent boy.  As with most fathers I must consider the mind and growing independence of his child and must let them go forth in the world and find their own way. Seated at the table together, I watched the two boys carefully. I've already mentioned Billy's adoring gaze but I didn't sense any reciprocation from Mr. Reed. He was behaving like a man asking a father for the hand of his daughter, but I don't think that he was aware that that was what he was doing. Could it be unconscious actions guided by a very clever Billy and that he was just a guest for lunch who has unwittingly fallen into a perverse parody.

Then there is my role as the lover and my response to this highly threatening situation. Dramatically I thought to myself, "Mr. whatever the fuck your name is, You come into my house, eat my food and all the while you are planning to fuck my cherished boy!"

The jealousy was so hot I could taste it.  If I had a pistol I might challenge the arrogant shit to a duel to the death. I had to stop myself and consider what Billy wanted. I had no right to intrude or interfere. If he needs council, he will come to me. Idly, I tried to remember where I put that rusted pistol of mine.

"Edmund, I'm going to show Alvin around the house." 

I sat expressionless looking down at an olive pit left on my plate. I couldn't follow them. I kept telling myself to relax. From the hall, I saw them go into Billy's studio and close the door. I heard it latch. It was as if someone had stabbed me in the heart with a kitchen knife.

I pretended to read the paper but I kept reading the same line over and over and over to crowd out images of them naked together.

"Hundreds of innocent Belgium citizens murdered by German soldiers. Hundreds of innocent Belgium citizens murdered by German soldiers. Hundreds of innocent.......”

I was blotting out the mental images of this rich and arrogant fucker who was soiling my precious Billy.

In personal reflection I said, Calm yourself Edmund.  This is life, things like this happen.  

That little aside didn't do a fucking thing!  When I get a hold of Billy I am going to give him a bath in hot Clorox.

They were up there for more than an hour until finally the door opened.  A sheepish Mr. Reed shook my hand and fled out the front door.

Billy was beaming. He slipped his arm around my waist and said, "Your turn."



 April 2, 1917

A letter from Brazil arrived.  It could only be from Myles' parents, the Koenig's.  Apparently he had taken the position as undersecretary to the German ambassador to Brazil but there were no authentic names on the address on the letter.  The letter had been opened and pasted shut. This was obviously done by a censor from the post office. 

I guess we can expect this from now on because of the Zimmerman telegram. It had exposed Germany's efforts to provoke Mexico into a war against the US for the purpose of recovering the Western States.  Because of this mishap, America may now actually enter the war.

When I opened it, I discovered that it could only have come from Myles.  The method was to write 3 pages, both sides of the most tedious inane gossip and then bury substantive paragraphs here and there. The censor was either unskilled or overburdened. Myles was exceedingly clever because it got through.

There was nothing specific regarding the war or where he was or what he was doing. From other sources I am guessing that he might have been involved in the naval Battle of Jutland but that is just a guess.

The letter was strangely romantic which was not like Myles. He said that he longed for the times when we played forbidden games together and that he knew that it was not adult of think of these things.

Edmund, When all this is over, I am sure I will continue to live here and I will want you to bring the boys to visit. I am compelled to observe my responsibilities and every day is so uncertain and I do not know the future but when I am allowed to rest or to sleep, I dream of you and no one else.

L, MK(Myles Koenig)

I read the letter on Tuesday, by Friday, America had declared war on Germany.



February 2, 1918

Peter came through the front door. He was dressed in the uniform of US army infantry. He stopped short and saluted me. He was bursting with pride. But for me, it was a devastating shock and the realization hit me like a pile of bricks.

Under my breath I said, oh no. "Peter, when are you going?!"

He detected my anxious demeanor.

"I leave tonight, I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want all this womanly fuss your are doing now!"

I retreated because he was right and he could see that I was upset.

"For Christ sake's Edmund, I thought you'd be proud of me."

"I am, but it's so unexpected."

"Edmund, I'm from the gutter and now have an opportunity to do something with my life and my country. I am going off to defend America. How could I do anything better than that? This is important to me because it is what I must do to become a man."

All I could say was, "You haven't the slightest idea of how truly proud I am of you. Look at you in that uniform."

Billy came in with the box Kodak and took pictures.  Peter was indeed proud, he saluted again to the camera.

"I know that you have honor and courage and that you would risk you life to save a comrade."

Regardless of how I felt about patriotism or the folly of war, I knew that I had to contain it and hide my apprehensions and instead be supportive and give him encouragement.  I know that Peter didn't like sentimentality but I had to put my arms around him. Billy came up and we formed our trio. 

What is the matter with me, I started to cry. I have grown to love this boy so much.

"Is there is anything you need please let me know? If you had told me sooner I would have had emergency coins sewn into your clothes.  Peter, I know that you don't like to write but please do it for me."

I tried to slow myself. "How are you getting there?"

He gave Billy his best smile. "Oh it's so stupid. I could have taken one of the ships out of New York but my orders are to take the train to Boston and I board from there."

The image of freezing black water and the Titanic and now the Lusitania came to me as if in a bad dream.

I couldn't think about it. "Can Billy and I go to see you off at the station?"

Peter came to me and we embraced. No, I'd rather we say good bye here.

He put his kitbag over his shoulder and I saw his back as he got into the carriage going to Penn Station. Billy and I both waved.

When his carriage pulled away, I broke down.


March 1918

I followed the news and was very fearful that the U-boats would get the American troop ship that Peter might be on.  The thought weight on me in the middle of the night.  By the end of February I received a letter.  It had been opened and pasted shut.  Inside was a deplorable collection of indecipherable chicken scratches. I was so glad that he was safe.

Dear Edmund and Billy,

I'm here and it is all very exciting.  I knew that you was all worried about the boat gettin torpedoed.  I've made some great friends. 

Edmund stop being such a ponce.  That's a new word I learned from the English.  They call me a Yank.

Peter McGuire.  Corporal, First Class, AEF

The letter was a relief. I was so fearful about the North Atlantic passage.

I put my arms around Billy who was looking fresh and innocent on this morning and said. "Peter is a real survivor. He has the instinct to stay out of harm's way."

Once he made it safely across the Atlantic, I intentionally stopped reading the paper concerning news about the war. Having these boys come into my life has made me vulnerable and sentimental. I had never been so susceptible to emotional feelings of love before and I am not sure how it happened. When Billy and I would be together, our close physical contact would frequently slide into intense sexual congress. We would give each other what we wanted and needed but inside I had the growing fear that somehow it  might all slip away and I would find myself alone.  Billy gave me no reason to feel this way but he was growing up and I knew he would change.   He was now in his senior year and would be graduating soon.  He is already enrolled in Columbia, starting in the Fall. 



Old Haunts

During the week days, with nothing to do and with the ever trying Peter gone off to war, I was on my own again.  I didn't attempt to operate the Marmon automobile because of all the worry it gave me so I willingly returned to the public transit and the subways.  If I was a professional at anything, it was observing people.  My natural haunt was my old neighborhood of Greenwich Village, specifically in the vicinity of my pieds-à-terre. After the three of us moved uptown, I had only visited rarely.

I noticed a beautiful dark, Mediterranean smile and surprisingly, it was one of recognition. I wasn't exactly sure because he was much taller now. An Italian boy standing on the corner, poorly dressed but of healthy peasant stock.

"Mr. Edmund, don't you remember me?"

It was Joey, the son of the fruit vendor from 7th avenue. "Of course I do Joseph, how have you been?"

"Mr., I look for you all the time but you have been gone."

"I know, I moved uptown."

He fell in along side of me and we headed in the direction of my old apartment on West 10th St.  I put the key in the lock and we entered the small apartment.

He looked around the now almost barren flat. “Don't nobody live here no more?”

"Just me when I want to get away. Joseph, let me look at you.  You are growing tall and so beautiful."  He soaked up all my compliments.

Smiling,  he raised his arms up high in an act of luxury as if trying to touch the ceiling.  I carefully pull off his shirt. His lose pants fell to the floor and he stepped out of them naked.  His entire body was the warmest brown. Flat, undefined chest and belly made him like a graceful sculpture from the past.  His penis hung curved and slightly suspended over his full scrotum and it was much larger than I remembered it. He climbed on me and curled himself up and then extended arms and legs and his warm body in the most familiar act of affection. 

"Mr. Edmund, I wish my father was like you."

He slipped his hand down into my pants and then moving so close, looking into my eyes, extended his sweet tongue till we kissed.

He doted on me, pushed my clothes aside and then sucked on my cock.

He looked up at me and said, "Are you gonna fuck me?  I want you to."

After a most intense resolution, leaving me unsure who was more spend, Joseph or me. He lay naked and still erect on my bed.  I returned with bread, cheeses and spiced meats and some red wine.  Not long after we ate, drank and talked, we started it all over again, only slower this time, savoring each other's scent and taste.

I examined Joey's shoes and I could see sunlight through their soles.  His feet were calloused but the worn shoes were no protection against the cold.  In the closet I found a sturdy pair that had belonged to Peter and we were both pleased to see that they fit.  Also in the closet were other old clothes of Peter's and I considered giving them all to Joseph but I couldn't bare seeing him in all of Peter's clothes. It seemed like a bad omen to dress him up as if he was a replacement. Instead I gave him some of my old clothes and a good coat, too big for him, that I no longer wore.

I gave him some lose silver coin and a gold piece that unless he was robbed, should take care of him until the weather gets warmer.

~

April 8th, Monday:

Billy was staying home from school so that we could go downtown to Wall Street to see the war bond rally. He knew how much I loved Charlie Chaplin. Fairbanks and Pickford were to be there too.  They were more properly called Liberty Bonds and of course I would buy a war bond but the idea of earning 4, 1/2 interest on war was offensive to me. I would only do it to support Peter and planned to give it to him when he returned home.

We took the subway and found it so blocked with people that we thought it better to get off at Canal and walk towards Wall Street, but the closer we got the more and more crowded it became. 

Billy was excited. "Oh come on Edmund, we've come this far!"

The sea of people got thicker and thicker.  The air was festive but with uncertain tension.  Both sides of Wall Street and Nassau Street were barricaded by police who were only letting in people who were well dressed or known to them.  A policeman signaled Billy and I in and the barricade opened and then closed up behind us.  Billy was eager and had been swept up in the fever of the crowd.  The objective was to witness the event of seeing real motion pictures stars and to sample a moment in history.  Billy would look back at me to make sure I was still trailing him.  The expression on his face was one of brilliant astonishment of where he was and what was happening. If I had been alone I might have fled for fear of anarchists or Bolsheviks using the event to make a dramatic statement at the expense of human life.

Sometime in September 1918

Billy hardly ever slept in the studio.  I am grateful that he preferred to be in with me.  The bedroom was dark and I am sure it was during the wee hours.  It was when the desire for sex hits you out of a deep sleep and there is someone warm, curled up next to you. Without even waking him I availed myself of his smooth body.  Softly stroking his cock and bringing it to life, he has regained consciousness and he reached out and puts his arms around me. He is so receptive and my rigid cock slides up and into him.  Our motions are slow and complementary, demonstrating an adoring mutuality. 

I love this boy. How can anyone on this earth find fault with it?



Please send comments to: larkin@tutanota.com...And I will respond