"Yea or nay?" Vic gestured toward the customer who had just entered the shop.
Good question. Michael watched the man appraisingly, losing track of the conversation between Vic and Emmett as his attention was caught by the striking appearance. Tall, blue eyed, built like Superman--what's not to like? Michael also admired the unselfconscious way the stranger moved, the open curiosity in his face as he looked around the comic book store. A nice man, the intuitive part of his brain told him. In spite of Emmett's declaration that the man's clothes marked him as straight, Michael held out vague hopes.
"Michael! You got a customer!" Debbie called out loudly, her voice causing mice to scurry for their holes in a panic. Michael took a deep breath and hurried over.
Ben looked up as the store owner came toward him. Something about the man's big, brown eyes and boyish face made him want to smile.
"Can I help you?"
"Yes, I hope so. I'm looking for some comic books."
Michael looked meaningfully around the room as if to say, you've come to the right place.
The man chuckled. "Let me explain. I teach English at Carnegie Mellon, and I'm leading a class on Alternative Forms of Literature in Postwar America; it covers comic books, among other things. So I'm doing a little research."
"Okay...why don't you tell me what you need, and I'll see if I can help."
What Ben had intended to be a brief stop at the comic book store ended up lasting over two hours. The owner--after 30 minutes he had finally introduced himself as Michael--had been more than helpful. His knowledge of comic books was dazzling, and although he seemed to know little about modern literature, he was exceptionally quick to understand what was needed and come up with appropriate material. But more than that, he was fun to talk to; Ben could hardly remember when he'd enjoyed a conversation so much. He left the shop weighed down with comic books, and in a remarkably good mood.
His cheerful state of mind continued through the evening. At dinner, his girlfriend, Anna, finally asked him why he kept smiling for no apparent reason.
"Is something funny?" she asked.
"No, it's just...I keep thinking about this store I went to today. A place that sells comic books."
"Comic books? You're kidding!"
"It's for my class."
"And they say academic standards are on the decline", she remarked dryly.
"I spent a long time talking with the store owner. He was so..."
"Nerdy? Inbred? Badly dressed?"
"Don't be such a snob!" he laughed.
"He was so...what, then?"
Ben hesitated. His first impulse was to answer, he was so cute. But that didn't seem quite the right thing to say. "Well, he was funny, that's all. And smart. He was talking about how comic books are like a modern version of old fairy tales; they're made by common people, not professional writers, and all the things ordinary people care about or worry about are represented there. In fairy tales, by witches and ogres and magic swords; in the comics, by super heroes and villains and mysterious powers." Ben was about to continue, but he realized he was sounding more enthusiastic about the whole encounter than he could easily explain. He felt he could have talked about it all evening, and suddenly he was uncomfortable discussing it with Anna. He avoided asking himself why. There was a reason which approached the edges of his consciousness, and was hastily pushed away. "Anyway...how was your day?"
Later, when Anna invited him to stay the night, he made an excuse. "I still have papers to grade, and I've got an early class. I'd better get home."
"How about a movie tomorrow night?"
"Sure. I'll call you tomorrow." He kissed her warmly and left.
Once back at his apartment, he almost immediately gave up on his paperwork to look through the stacks of comic books on his kitchen table. Each one reminded him of some comment or joke Michael had made as they were searching the store. When he looked up from his reading, he was surprised to see that it was after 2:00 a.m.
Late the next afternoon, Michael was restocking shelves when a customer walked in. He glanced up and was surprised to see Ben, the man he'd spoken to the day before. The surprise was not an unwelcome one. "Back so soon? Don't tell me you've finished with all those comics already?"
"Well, yes, actually. I'm...I read quickly." Ben followed behind Michael, who was moving through the store placing items in the racks. "I was hoping you could help me with something else."
"Sure, what can I find for you?"
"I've already found what I want." Michael looked at him questioningly. "You."
"Me?"
"I want you to talk to my class."
Michael laughed in disbelief, an absurd giggle that made Ben want to laugh as well.
"I'm serious. You're obviously more of an expert on comics than I am."
Michael shook his head. "I'm not an expert on anything. I've just been reading them since I was a kid."
"No, it's more than that. When you talk about them, you..." Ben stopped. He wanted to talk about the passion Michael demonstrated when he discussed his favourite topic, how happy and full of excitement he seemed, how it made Ben feel that way just to hear him. He was suddenly embarrassed. "...you're so enthusiastic. I think it would be good for my class to hear about them from you." His discomfort grew as he met Michael's eyes, which were fixed on him; Ben made a point of not looking directly at him for too long. "So what do you say? Will you come?"
Michael seemed oddly distracted, but quickly snapped back and agreed to Ben's request.
Ben, apparently, had nothing special to do the rest of the afternoon, and stayed at the shop, chatting with Michael, until closing time.
When Ben got home, the message light was flashing on his telephone. He pressed a button and heard Anna's voice--and immediately remembered that they had made plans for that evening. He was supposed to call her--he checked his watch--almost two hours ago! Fortunately, she didn't sound angry: in a calm cheerful voice, she was saying "...rip out your intestines and festoon them throughout the trees in front of the university library, which is probably where you are instead of calling me. I'm going to the movies with Cathy and Angela. Fuck you and the horse you came in on. Bye."
Ben couldn't help but laugh. If she'd really been angry, she would have left a polite, civil message, minus swear words, then let him have it later, in person. He experienced a wave of affection for Anna; at the same time, he felt guilty for forgetting about her, and even more so for enjoying someone else's company so much more than hers. When he was talking with Michael he'd felt as if he never wanted to leave.
An image of Michael came into his mind. Ben saw him laughing, gesturing, talking faster and faster as he became more excited about his topic, and he felt a surge of pleasure at the recollection. In his mind's eye he focused on the slim figure moving through the store, the large, deep brown eyes, the full lips, and from nowhere came a vivid image of Michael standing close to him, reaching up and touching his shoulder, his face. In his daydream, Ben took Michael's face in his hands; the vision was so clear he could almost feel the velvet texture of the other man's skin, the roughness of hair against his palms, could feel Michael's breath against his neck as he moved closer... With a start, he pulled his thoughts away into other directions.
For the next few days, much of Ben's free time was spent at the comic book store. There was a good excuse: he was helping Michael prepare for his talk at the university. In reality, they talked about nearly everything except Michael's lecture. For some reason, Ben found it remarkably easy to talk to Michael; although they had known each other only a short time, he could open up with Michael as though they'd been friends for years. On Saturday, he took his lunch to the store, bringing along enough food for both of them. They sat together behind the counter and talked as they ate.
"So if yoga isn't just for exercise, what is it for?" Michael took a bite of his sandwich.
Ben passed him one of the cold drinks. "Well, it helps you to relax, to focus your mind, to work through stress. It's helped me a lot." He took a sip, trying to ignore the way Michael's eyes followed the movements of his throat as he swallowed. "Before I took it up, I was 30 pounds overweight." Michael's eyebrows shot up; his eyes moved quickly but appreciatively over Ben's well-shaped body, a look which did not go unnoticed by Ben himself.
"Really? That's hard to believe."
"Believe it. I deal with stress by overeating. At least, I used to."
"Well, I guess there are worse ways", Michael said thoughtfully, picking up the other half of his sandwich. "What was it you were stressed about?"
This, apparently was the wrong question to ask. Ben shrugged, suddenly occupied with arranging the lunch items on the counter. "Just growing up, schoolwork--you know."
Michael nodded, wondering what the real reason had been. He had his own theory. "I never worried that much about schoolwork. Which I guess is one reason why I'm not an English professor."
Ben smiled, relaxed once again. "I was always a bookworm when I was a kid. Did you ever hear the saying, 'some people say life is the thing, but I prefer reading'?"
Michael laughed. "Sounds a little unbalanced to me!"
"Maybe so, but that was how I felt; I always loved books, just worshipped the people who wrote them. I've always made up stories of my own, since before I even knew how to write. I no longer prefer books to life", he laughed when Michael gave him a look that suggested, 'I'm impressed', "but I feel like teaching literature is exactly where I belong."
Michael nodded. Ben loved the way he felt when talking to Michael; as though he were with someone who understood him perfectly. "And this", he went on, looking around at the interior of Red Cape Comics, "this seems like right where you belong."
"That's exactly how I feel about it!" Michael looked up at him, his face clearly reflecting the pleasure the conversation gave him. "You know, I've been coming to this same store since I was ten; it's been like my second home. I gave up almost everything I had to buy it."
"But it was worth it, to follow your bliss."
Michael laughed, that odd little chuckle that somehow filled Ben with delight. "Some people thought it was a pretty silly thing to do."
"Doing work that you love? How can that be silly?" Ben asked.
Michael looked back at him with a smile of pure satisfaction, and suddenly Ben felt like the most wonderful man on earth, wanted more than anything for Michael to think that he was. His heartbeat quickened, and he found his gaze held by Michael's. The impulse to touch him was so strong that his hand had begun to reach out before he caught himself. He looked at his watch to hide his confusion.
"Oh--I've got to go. I'm supposed to meet Anna."
"Anna?"
"My girlfriend." Ben looked at Michael, then quickly looked away again. He didn't want to see the expression on his face, much less admit that he understood why it was there. He said goodbye and hastily left the store.
Later that evening, Michael joined his friends at Woody's. It was karaoke night, which put Ted in a foul mood.
"It's so ironic", he was saying, "As queers, we're accused of depravity, decadence, unbelievable levels of promiscuity, being responsible for all forms of moral laxity and the decline of Western civilization, and how are we spending our evening? Drinking lite beer and listening to some tin-eared fag sing 'What I Did For Love'".
Emmett shrugged. "What would you rather do, stay home and watch TV?" he asked, wiping sentimental tears from his eyes. "Oh, that song always makes me cry!"
"Bowling for Dollars makes you cry".
"I can't help being soft-hearted", Emmett replied, watching as the singer on stage was replaced by a group of four men who launched unsteadily into the Shoop Shoop Song. He focused on Michael. "Honey, what's going on with you? You've hardly said a word all evening".
Ted turned toward Michael as well. "That's true; why aren't we hearing more spellbinding tales of the amazing Professor Bunter?"
"Bruckner!" Michael corrected irritably.
"You'd think he was amazing too, Teddy, if you'd seen him. What a gorgeous hunk of man!"
"So I keep hearing", Brian remarked, "But when do I get to judge for myself?"
"That's right, Sweetie; when are you going to bring him along to meet us?"
"Why would I do that? What makes you think we're even going out?" Michael burst out.
"Well -- the way you've been going on about him...."
"So where is the good professor tonight?" asked Brian, cutting to what he assumed was the heart of the problem. Michael mumbled something unintelligible.
"What?"
"I said, he's out with his girlfriend".
Total silence met this surprising statement. It was finally broken by Brian's cynical laugh. "Shit, Mikey, what is it with you and closet cases? First you shack up with a married man..."
"He was divorced!"
"...and now you've got a hard-on for a guy who's dating women?" He shook his head in disbelief.
Ted approached the subject more cautiously. "So is he actually... I mean..."
"I don't know! I don't know, okay? Now shut up about it; I don't want to talk about it!"
The other three sat quietly waiting for a full nine seconds before he continued.
"I mean, when he's with me it seems as if he's... not that he's ever really said anything, but I can tell... I mean, I think I can tell..." He trailed off, dejected.
Brian sighed in exasperation. "Well, Mikey, there's only one way to know for sure".
Anna entered Ben's apartment just ahead of him, switching on the light, hanging up her coat, and waiting for him to say something. Their dinner together had been unusually quiet; normally they found plenty to talk about, but tonight Ben had seemed distracted, even a little depressed. He insisted that nothing was wrong, and she didn't force the issue. She put a CD into the player, sat down on the sofa, and waited to see what he would do.
Across the room, Ben was moving restlessly, straightening a picture, adjusting the window shades, checking his telephone messages-- anything to divert his attention. He couldn't stop thinking about Michael -- at work, during dinner, even when he was talking to Anna. He had never felt so confused.
Ever since he was a freshman at Yale, there had been other men. It was a part of his life that was so secret, it was almost hidden from Ben himself. He barely acknowledged the occasional, furtive encounters; if he thought about them at all, it was either as experiments, something he tried a few times out of curiosity, or because he'd had too much to drink; or else as nothing more than a rather sordid kind of sexual release, something he did and forgot about as quickly as possible. Either way, it was something he didn't regard as part of his real life. Real life, he felt, was his work, his parents, Anna, their possible future marriage and children.
Now, it was as if everything around him had changed. He wanted to view his feelings for Michael as just displaced sexual tension, squalid but fleeting, not worth a moment's worry. But deep down, he knew it was more than that, and he knew he couldn't place Michael in the same category as the strangers he had been with and forgotten. Michael, and his feelings for Michael, rightly belonged in the secret, disregarded part of his life, but they felt more real than anything else in Ben's existence. He was appalled at his longing for Michael, for his presence, his voice, his touch.
Ben started slightly when Anna crept up behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders. "You seem to have a lot on your mind", she remarked lightly. Ben turned, preparing to answer her with a joke, but instead pulled her into his arms. This is what I need, he thought: to touch someone, to be close to someone. He held her tightly, burying his face against her neck to block out the image of someone else. She started to speak, but he suddenly kissed her, hard and almost violently.
Anna was surprised by his fierceness; Ben had never seemed to have a very passionate nature, and this was out of character for him. She made no objection as he pulled her toward the bedroom.
Freeing herself hastily from the last of her clothing, Anna pulled her lover down onto the bed beside her, excited by his unexpected fervor. He kissed her, his hands stroking and kneading everywhere within his reach. She looked at him in the short pause between kisses; his eyes were tightly closed.
Unable to control his imagination, Ben finally allowed his mind to wander freely. It was no longer Anna he held in his arms. In his fantasy, her light brown hair turned to crisp black waves, her hazel eyes to deep brown; her soft curves hardened into muscle beneath his hands. The image became so vivid he could actually feel Michael's body against his, could taste him, smell him.... His lovemaking became more and more intense, until Anna urged him with her legs and hands to enter her. She was startled when he abruptly turned her over onto her belly. He gripped her shoulders and pressed closer to speak into her ear.
"Like this", he whispered urgently, "okay?" She nodded. Closing his eyes again, he entered her at once.
The next morning was uncomfortable for Ben; he was actually pleased to find he'd forgotten to set his alarm, since it forced Anna and him to hurry through their morning routine, leaving no time for conversation. Anna offered him a lift to work, and for the first and only time he wished he had a car of his own. A barrier had formed between the two of them, and Ben, while unhappy about the situation, was unwilling to examine the reason too closely. He was relieved to see the front doors of his college come into view.
Ben began his first class of the day with the resolution to stop visiting Michael's store. Michael's presentation to his class was in two days, and Ben looked forward to it with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. But until then, he decided, he would avoid contact with Michael altogether; it was for the best.
Several times during class, he had to pause and hide a smile, as one of the characters being studied reminded him of Michael.
During his noon break, he wondered what Michael was eating for lunch, and what he was doing at his shop, and what he was wearing that day, and before he knew it, an hour of daydreaming had passed.
His afternoon sessions ended, and he returned to his office. His phone rang; it was Anna, letting him know that she was visiting her sister that evening and wouldn't be available. He was mortified by the relief he felt at hearing this.
At 3:00 he left for home, carefully avoiding the route to Michael's store as if it were a dangerous undertow. At 3:26, he decided to reorganize his bookshelves. At 3:44, he gave this task up in favor of wandering around the apartment, cleaning his glasses repeatedly, and examining the ceiling for cobwebs. At 3:51, he went out for a walk.
At 4:17, he entered Red Cape Comics.
Ben had expected an uneasy, awkward exchange with Michael, and for the first few minutes after he arrived, it was just that. When he first entered the store, Michael's welcoming smile had quickly faded, as if he had suddenly remembered something which constrained him. Ben hated being the cause of his reticence, hated anything that made that warm, unaffected smile disappear from his face. But, after only a short time, they fell back into conversation as easily as if the subject of Ben's girlfriend had never come up.
When Michael closed the store for the day, it seemed perfectly natural for Ben to stay on. Somehow, he ended up telling Michael all about his childhood in New York.
"My mother was pretty special. My dad was like the cement that held everything together; but mom, she made ordinary things magical." They were sitting on the floor together, Michael sorting comics as he listened. "At Christmas time, she insisted we never put up the tree ahead of time. My parents would decorate it and put the presents underneath on Christmas Eve, while my sister and I were asleep. We'd get up in the morning and find our living room completely transformed, overnight."
Michael smiled. "It sounds wonderful. Now, my mother wanted us to spend a whole week decorating the tree together, a little each day. It took us that long to put it away again, too!"
Their talk was interrupted by a loud, sustained growl from Michael's stomach. Ben chuckled. "Sounds like it's mealtime. Why don't you let me buy you dinner?" He quickly added, "We should go over your lecture tomorrow."
Once they were settled into a corner table at a nearby Thai restaurant, Ben again brought up the subject of Michael's lecture. "Is there anything else you want to go over--the class, the room, what you'll be saying?"
Michael became quiet, his eyes on his plate.
"What's the problem?"
"I've been thinking about this lecture, and...I know it's really short notice and all, but...."
"Wait a minute; you can't cancel on me now!"
"Ben, I'm really sorry, but this is just a bad idea. I shouldn't have agreed to do it."
"Why not?"
"Because it doesn't make any sense! I looked at the course outline you gave me; I've never even heard of half these writers! Me giving a lecture to college students is just ridiculous."
"It's not ridiculous, it's perfect. Who knows more about the subject than you?"
"About comic books!" Michael said contemptuously.
"Everyone has his own area of expertise. One's not necessarily better than another. Besides, that's not the only reason I asked you to speak to my students." Michael looked up inquiringly. "I wanted them to hear it directly from you. When you talk about it--about your subject, your field--you have this--passion." Ben paused, a bit rattled, but the words seemed to be tumbling out on their own. "When you talk about something you care about, you make me care about it too. It's like your passion is contagious; like you're in another world and I'm there with you." He felt more than a little flustered but continued. "It's hard to explain how much I enjoy hearing you talk about this; I wanted my students to experience a little of that."
Michael looked embarrassed but very pleased. There was no more talk of cancelling his lecture.
When Brian pulled up in front on the university,Michael hardly noticed the car stop moving. A familiar argument was proceeding.
"Don't be pathetic, Mikey. Leave him to his girlfriend."
"But I really think he likes me. I'm pretty sure he's gay. He hasn't said so, but..."
"It doesn't matter if he is or not. Why would you want some guy who's afraid to come out?"
"Like I was a few months ago."
"That's different. This loser's not even out to himself. He's still with this woman, Mikey!"
"I know!"
"Whatever he's doing with you, it's behind her back. Unless, of course, he's seeing her behind your back."
It wasn't an appealing thought. Sighing, Michael got out of the car.
Ben had expected Michael's lecture to be informative, full of colorful detail on the lives of comic book heroes. He had thought his students would be entertained by Michael's lively narrative, and gain some insight into the way comics were written, the reasons for their popularity. He had not expected the talk to be so revealing of Michael, of his character, details of his life.
Beginning in a state of nervous confusion, Michael had gained confidence as he began talking about his pet subject. He soon dispensed with his prepared speech and just spoke spontaneously. Ben was taken aback when he casually mentioned the fact that he was gay as part of the talk, but overall was captivated by Michael's simple, passionate words. He concluded: "Spiderman saves his city from crime, but the citizens, most of them, believe he's a criminal himself. The X-Men are outcasts; some people want them killed or exiled just for being what they are. The super-heroes aren't always nice and well-liked; sometimes they don't fit in, they make people uncomfortable. But they're heroes to us, because they do the right thing even when there's no reward for it; they may have to hide their identity, but it doesn't make them dishonest in other ways. They try to face the truth, accept who they are, and make the most of their powers. They have that special kind of courage; that's why they're heroes.
Ben unlocked the door to his apartment feeling as if he were opening Pandora's box, unsure of what might result. He opened the door to allow Michael to enter ahead of him, took his coat, offered him a drink.
"Thanks, I'll have a beer."
"I'll be right back. Make yourself at home."
Ben disappeared into the kitchen and took the opportunity to draw a few deep breaths and try to stifle the sensation of panic. The two parts of his life, parts which he had always kept strictly separate, were suddenly meeting. Michael was in his apartment, the place where he met with friends and colleagues, where he kept photographs of his parents and his girlfriend, where he was known and recognized--where he lived his 'real' life. He glanced cautiously out into the living room. Michael was peering up at a painting on the wall, biting his lip thoughtfully. Ben melted at the sight of him. Who cares, he thought defiantly; he's here because I want him to be here, because I like having him around. Why shouldn't he be here? There were many possible answers to that question, but none seemed to have any force for him at the moment. He opened two bottles of beer and carried them into the next room.
"Here you go." Michael smiled his thanks as he accepted the drink. Ben watched him tilt the bottle to his mouth for several seconds before he realized he was staring and quickly averted his eyes. He cleared his throat nervously. "So, public speaking wasn't quite as terrifying as you had thought, was it? Or had you done it before?"
"Are you kidding? No, that was the first time--and yes, it was. Terrifying, I mean."
"It didn't show." Michael looked skeptical. "Well, maybe for the first few minutes. After that, you had them in the palm of your hand."
"I think that's going a little far!"
"I'm serious. You really know your subject, for one thing. And I told you before, the important thing is the feeling you have for the material; it comes across. Everyone was charmed by the way you spoke, by your humour...." He realized that it was not just his students he was speaking for. "I told you, you have this passion; it's...contagious."
"Is it?"
Ben couldn't help but catch the change in Michael's voice. He stood still, his feelings in conflict, as Michael walked toward him. As he moved closer, Ben put his hand on Michael's chest to hold him at a distance; but his hand, as thought it had a life of its own, moved slowly down over his chest to rest on his stomach, gliding very naturally around his waist as Michael closed the remaining inches between them.
With only a second's hesitation, Michael tilted his head up to kiss Ben softly on the mouth; he felt Ben respond, parting his lips to deepen the kiss, and he in turn curled an arm around Ben's neck, blissfully closing his eyes and devouring Ben's mouth with his own. As their bodies pressed together, he felt Ben's erection against him, the rapid beat of his heart and his quickened breathing. With scarcely a pause between kisses, he took hold of Ben's shirt. "Come on," he whispered, pulling Ben toward what he assumed was the bedroom.
In the unlit bedroom, Michael quickly unbuttoned Ben's shirt, savoring the feel of smooth chest under his hands before pushing the shirt away.
Ben worked impatiently to remove Michael's clothing. There was no more room in his mind for worry or fear or confusion; his thoughts were entirely occupied with this beautiful man who had taken such a hold on his emotions. Naked at last and clinging to each other, they fell together onto the bed, kissing hungrily, their hands wandering over each other's bodies feverishly. Ben was overwhelmed with multiple feelings: his own lust, an intense delight at Michael's desire and pleasure, a fierce tenderness toward him. Michael broke away from their kiss, and his mouth travelled slowly down over Ben's chest, his abdomen, finally taking the stiff cock eagerly into his mouth. Ben felt as though pleasure were flooding through every nerve in his body as Michael's mouth worked its magic.
Michael shifted so he could grind his aching cock against Ben's thigh. He moaned at the sensation; the vibrations of the moan caused Ben to moan in return. The passionate sound brought another groan from Michael, and another response from Ben....Both of them noticed the wordless dialogue at the same time. A brief, breathless burst of laughter came from Ben, and Michael squeezed his hand in acknowledgement.
Ben was struck by the peculiar little interaction; he couldn't remember ever laughing with someone during sex. Suddenly, he wanted to be closer to Michael, wanted to be able to kiss him and look into his eyes. He gently pushed Michael's head away, ignoring the murmur of protest; he siezed Michael's arms and dragged him upward until they were face to face.
Immediately Michael's mouth covered Ben's. Ben's hands moved caressingly over Michael's back, over his legs, cupping his tight little ass, luxuriating in the firm, silky feel of his skin. Michael scattered warm, moist kisses over his face, his neck and shoulders; Ben felt dizzy with pleasure as Michael's body squirmed deliciously against his. Abruptly he clasped Michael tightly in his arms and rolled them both over until he was on top. He looked down into Michael's flushed face; the look of candid desire made him even more beautiful. Their bodies continued to thrust voluptuously, every movement now almost unbearably sensual, until Ben felt Michael's body arch up against him, heard his moans become frantic little whimpers; he felt fingers dig into his shoulders and the sudden hot spurt against his belly. Ben joined him almost at once, his whole body tensing, and harsh, wild sounds coming from his throat as sensation moved through him like lightning. Finally he collapsed, breathless, on top of Michael, smiling faintly as he felt Michael gently stroke the back of his neck.
With other men in the past, Ben recalled, sex was quick, secretive, and always immediately followed by a hasty exit. One man had compared him to a male Black Widow Spider: 'mate and flee.' This was different. After getting their breath, he and Michael had languidly cleaned up, laughing giddily at tiny jokes that weren't really that funny. Then, without thinking about it, Ben had curled up on the bed next to Michael, not even considering leaving or having him leave. Michael moved closer; their arms slid around each other effortlessly, and they lay clasped together, sated and basking in contentment, Michael's head resting on his shoulder. 'He fits there so nicely,' was the last thing Ben thought before drifting off to sleep.
Ben woke and lay for a moment trying to remember what day it was and when he needed to get up. He wasn't sure of the time, but the sun hadn't risen yet; the room was nearly dark. He lifted his head to look at the bedside clock, and saw Michael lying beside him, sound asleep. Ben was instantly awake, and every detail of the previous night came back to him with absolute clarity.
Taking great care not to move suddenly or make any sound, he rose and tiptoed to the door. He paused in the doorway and looked back at the bed. Michael was lying on his back in a tangle of sheets, his arms thrown up over his head; he sighed and shifted in his sleep, and suddenly Ben wanted more than anything on earth to climb back into that warm bed with him and stay there until hunger drove them out. With a considerable effort, he turned again and left the room. He quickly stepped into the shower, scrubbing himself roughly and trying to shake off the memories that kept flooding his mind. One thought kep returning: he'll be waking up soon. What do I say to him?
He was at the sink, partly dressed, shaving, when he heard sounds coming from the bedroom; a moment later Michael appeared at the open bathroom door. Naked and smiling.
"Hi," he said sleepily, "I didn't hear you get up."
"I thought I might as well let you sleep," Ben replied, grateful that shaving gave him an excuse to keep his eyes on the mirror, away from Michael.
"Thanks." Michael yawned and stretched lavishly, drawing Ben's attention. "Did you shower already?"
"Yes, why?"
"Oh, nothing; I just thought we could get in together."
This provided Ben with an even more distracting mental picture. "Well, why don't you go ahead and shower," he suggested. "I'll make coffee." He left the bathroom to Michael and hurried out to the kitchen, grabbing his shirt as he went by.
In the kitchen, Ben struggled with the suddenly formidable coffee maker and with newly revived panic. What do I do now? he asked himself. He finally managed to get the filter in place and started the coffee brewing. Then he stood, staring blankly at the kitchen clock, listening to an internal debate.
The argument on the Pro side went: It's so simple. Go on seeing him. You want to, and so does he. So just do it!
The Con side, however, maintained that Just Do It was an ad for sporting goods, not a feasible life choice. Ben was presented with a series of ghastly images: himself, explaining the situation to Anna. Telling his parents about it. Dealing with his colleagues after they found out. Being dropped by most, if not all, of his friends. Giving up on his hope of one day being a father. All these potential nightmares flashed through his brain in rapid succession, each one too awful to consider.
"No," he murmured to himself, "it's impossible."
He heard Michael leave the bathroom. When he walked into the kitchen, Ben had a cup of coffee ready for him.
"Thanks," he said, accepting the cup. They sat together at the kitchen table. "So," Michael said, still glowing with happiness, "what are you doing tonight?"
"Tonight?"
"Yeah, I wondered if you wanted to come meet some of my friends."
Now was evidently the time to do what he had to do. Ben took a deep breath. "Michae--I need to explain something." Michael looked at him inquiringly. "I think that you're assuming things that aren't actually..." He trailed off, trying to clarify his words; he started again. "You have to understand, just because I, um...experiment occasionally, doesn't mean that I'm...that I'm..."
"Gay?"
"Right...that's right. And it doesn't mean that you and I are, ah..."
"So last night was an experiment?"
"Well..."
"It was some weird thing you wanted to try once, like hang-gliding?"
Ben was silent. It sounded ridiculous even to him, and he hated the harshness in Michael's voice
"And I don't mean anything more to you than that, right?"
"Michael, I'm sorry to have to tell you..."
"Well, you should be sorry, because it's all bullshit!"
Ben was surprised; Michael didn't say it angrily or hysterically, but with simple firmness. "Michael--I'm sure you understand that some, well, some encounters are just casual things..."
"I know all about that; I've had enough 'casual encounters' to recognize one when I see it, and what we had wasn't that!" He glared across the table at Ben. "You know it as well as I do. You've been coming to see me every day for weeks, and when we talk, there's a connection. It's not something that happens all the time; it's special. You must be able to see that. Or are you going to tell me I'm imagining it all?" Ben couldn't bring himself to answer.
Michael's face constricted in anger and disappointment. "Okay, have it your way," he said bitterly, "You're actually straight. I was just an experiment. We don't mean anything to each other." Ben tried to respond, but ended up making a weak gesture between a nod and a shrug. Michael stood up and grabbed his jacket. "I'll tell you one thing that really is true: you're a liar and a coward. If I'd known that before, I wouldn't have had anything to do with you." He walked out of the apartment, leaving behind a crushing silence.
Ben sat motionless at the table, feeling cold as ice, trying to take in all that had happend. 'I'll tell you one thing that really is true', his mind taunted him, until he pressed his hands against his eyes in a futile effort to block out the horrible truth: not that he was a liar, and not that he was gay--that he was in love.
Three different guys, cute guys, had made a point of looking Michael over, and moved on when he ignored them. Brian, standing at the bar a few feet away, took this fact in and focused more clearly on Michael's face. To strangers, his expression would seem merely neutral, but Brian recognized the raw, vulnerable aspect beneath the surface; he secretly thought of it as the Hurt Bunny Look. He knew that look well enough, having been the cause of it on several occasions; that didn't keep him from feeling resentful when someone else caused Michael pain. He slid casually along the bar to stand next to his friend.
"In case it escaped your notice, that redhead with what appears to be a liverwurst stuffed down his pants has been cruising you for the last ten minutes."
"Who cares?"
"Well, I care, Mikey. I care deeply. I hate to see good cock go to waste; it's my thrifty, working-class upbringing."
"Fuck off." His face attempted to express irritation, but Brian saw mostly Hurt Bunny. He sighed.
"Okay, what'd he do?"
"Who?" Brian shot him a who-are-you-kidding look. "It doesn't matter. I don't want to talk about it."
Brian waited, but this time no confidences were forthcoming. He tried again. "I told you the guy was a complete loser. He's deep in the closet and he's not coming out just because he met you."
"I know you told me! So you were right, okay? Are you happy?"
Brian was alarmed at his tone of voice. He sounded not just upset, but near tears. "Mikey..."
"I was with him last night. We were together all night, and it was wonderful; it was like..." He grimaced and went on, "Then this morning he tells me that it didn't mean anything, he's going back to his girlfriend, and..." he made a vague gesture, "and that's all," he finished feebly.
That's all, is it? Brian thought angrily. He set his thoughts aside and put an arm around Michael's shoulders. "Mikey--he's not worth getting worked up over. He's a hypocritical prick and he doesn't care shit about you."
"Yes, he does! That's the problem; I know he cares about me."
"Yeah, sure he does. You're so pathetic!"
"I AM NOT PATHETIC!!"
Brian paused and then, because it seemed useless to argue any further, and because it was true, just said, "No, Mikey. You're not," and handed him his drink.
It was five minutes before closing time and Michael was just preparing to lock up for the day when the door to his shop opened. He was dismayed when he looked up to see Ben enter. Before he could say anything, Ben held his hands up as though warding off bullets, and said, "Please--I know I'm the last person you want to see right now, but can I talk to you, just for five minutes?"
Michael wasn't sure how he was going to answer until he heard his own voice reply tensely, "All right. Make it quick, I'm closing." He tried to mask his agitation by continuing to straighten items on the counter. After many second passed in silence, he looked back at Ben, who was standing in the center of the shop looking tired and unhappy. "Well?"
Ben cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. "You were right," he said.
"About what?"
"About you and me. You said there was a connection between us, and no, you weren't just imagining it."
"I know." Michael stopped roaming around the shop and stood still, waiting.
"And the other night--that wasn't just an experiment."
"I know that too," Michael said, "But the question is, what are you going to do about it?"
Ben looked directly at him; Michael was struck by the misery in his eyes.
"I've been thinking about that, and about almost nothing else. But no matter how I try to...." He seemed to be searching for the right words. "I just don't see how I can do it. Maybe I'm not as brave as you, or as honest, but I can't face what might happen. You know, some people lose all their friends, their job, they are cut off from everyone they know. I have a chance to have a family of my own, and," he was rambling wildly now, "how can I tell my mother and father? How can I tell Anna? How in the world can I go through with it?" He looked pleadingly at Michael.
"Well," said Michael carefully, "why don't you come in and sit down, so we can talk about it." He pushed two chairs out from behind the front counter, and Ben slumped into one. Michael locked the door, turned the Closed sign over in the front window, and went back to joing Ben.
"So, what would you do instead?"
"What?" Ben looked puzzled.
"If you don't come out, if you decide to keep your secret, what will you do?" Ben shook his head, still confused. "Will you and Anna get married?"
Ben shrugged. "I suppose we will."
"And you'll just never tell her?" There was no reply.
Michael thought a moment. "I used to live with this man, David. He was divorced." This seemed to catch Ben's attention. "He was married a long time before he knew me. For seven years. He told me all about it." He turned to face Ben directly. "He didn't want to be gay, so he just decided he wouldn't be. He married this very nice lady, and they had a son. So everything was fine, just the way he'd hoped." Ben nodded; he seemed calmer now than when he'd arrived. "Well," Michael continued, "sometimes it was difficult for him. But when his son was born, David loved him so much, he thought he could do anything, put up with anything, for the sake of that little boy, and he was even more determined to make it work out."He stopped a moment.
"What happened?" Ben asked finally.
"He stayed with his wife, and raised his son, and did everything he was supposed to. But he couldn't change who he really was. He started having more and more trouble--you know, being with his wife. He thought he'd just let that part of his life go, and focus on other things. But his wife started to worry; she thought something was wrong with their marriage. She tried all kinds of things: vacations, and counselling, and changing the way she looked. She would try to talk to David about it, but of course he couldn't tell her what was really wrong. So, do you know what finally made him tell her the truth?"
Ben shook his head, feeling apprehensive.
"Lori, his wife, decided that all their problems were her fault, that there was something wrong with her that made David lose interest. And when David seemed distant, when he couldn't confide in her, she thought it was becase she was unsympathetic, someone a man couldn't feel close to. She blamed herself for everything." He looked at Ben. "Great, huh?"
"Great?"
"Sure. The pressure was off. His secret was safe, because Lori took all the blame."
Ben looked at the floor. "Not great, no."
"No. David couldn't let her go on thinking that she was the problem. That is, he could have; but what kind of pig would do that to someone he liked? So he told her."
"And it was okay?"
"Eventually," Michael answered. "At the time, it was awful. She wouldn't speak to him; he thought he was going to be denied contact with his son; a lot of his friends dropped him. For a while, he just felt like he was falling to pieces. He'd been lying for a long time, so it took a while to deal with all the consequences. But it had to be done."
They sat in silence for a while, a comfortable silence this time. Finally Michael said, "You really can do it, you know. If I can go throught with it, you can." He considered a moment, then added, "If you're having trouble with all the wreckage--dealing with the consequences--you can always come and talk to me. If that would help."
Ben hesitated. "But if I can't go through with it, not right away at least, can't we still go on seeing each other? We can still be together, can't we, even if I'm not, um, out?"
The offer was not without its appeal, Michael had to admit; but he knew he couldn't leave things in such an ambiguous state. He shook his head regretfully. "I can't, Ben. I'm not going to be your dirty little secret. If I let myself love someone, I have to know that he's going to be there for me, regardless of what his friends or his family might say. If we're going to be together, it has to be openly."
Ben nodded. Looking a little dazed, he got up and headed toward the door. Michael moved forward to unlock it for him. "Whatever you decide," he said, "thank you for coming to talk to me." He gave Ben a quick kiss goodbye. Ben started to speak, then thought the better of it; he just gave Michael a weak smile, and left.
For days after this conversations, Michael looked up eagerly every time the door to his comic book store opened. When a week had passed with no word from Ben, he began to make up excuses for the delay. After ten days, he finally considered the possibility that they would not be seeing each other again.
He spent more time at the store, working late 3 or 4 evenings a week; he found being completely surrounded by comic books soothing. He also wanted to allow Ben every opportunity of dropping by, without finding the shop closed.
Debbie, noticing his subdued condition one morning at the diner, concluded as usual that the problem could be solved with food in large quantities. "There you go!" she exclaimed cheerily, placing the gross domestic product of Switzerland on the table in front of her son.
"Ma, I didn't order this!"
"So I noticed. You've been living on toast and the occasional lemon wedge for days. It's unhealthy. No wonder you look like something that's been in the fridge too long."
"Thanks a lot," he mumbled, poking dejectedly at his breakfast.
"The store not doing well?" she asked.
"It's fine."
"Then it can only be boy trouble," she declared. "Who's the guy, and why haven't I heard about him?"
"Debbie," Brian broke in, holding up his coffee cup, "can I get a refill?"
"In a minute," she said, waiting for Michael's answer.
"Right now would be better," he said. Debbie turned to him in annoyance. Brian quickly shook his head, glancing significantly at Michael. For once, she took the hint.
"Coffee, stat, for the man in a hurry," she told the counter girl, handing over the cup.
The exchange seemed to have gone unnoticed by Michael, but when she had left, he briefly looked up at Brian with a tiny smile of thanks.
Brian responded by helping himself to some of Michael's unwanted breakfast. After a minute, he said, "You did the right thing, Mikey. He's got to decide this for himself."
"I know," Michael said quietly, trying to eat. "He'll either come back or he won't."
"Well, if he doesn't," Brian concluded, "he's too much of a jackass to bother with." He dropped a tip on the table, said goodbye to Michael with a light slap on the side of the head, and left the diner.
Two days later, Michael was at the shop when the phone rang. "Red Cape Comics."
"Hi." It was Ben.
"Hello!" Michael waited as seconds passed. "Ben, these long silences have got to stop. Life's too short."
"Sorry. I was just trying to figure out how to start."
Michael decided to help things along. "How about something like: lit's been a while, I've missed you, it's nice to hear your voice?" He heard Ben laugh. "All right. I really have missed you, and it is good to hear your voice."
"See, that went well," Michael said lightly, trying not to read too much into Ben's words. "And I've missed you too. I wasn't sure I was going to hear from you again."
"Things have been a little unsettled lately, or I would have called sooner. Could I see you? I was thinking I could make us dinner."
"Tonight?"
"Yes, tonight. If you're free."
"And if you're free."
Ben got the point. "I spoke to Anna a few days ago. I told her everything."
"Oh!" Michael let that sink in. "Is everything okay?"
"It will be. Listen, I have a class in a few minutes; is 7:00 all right?"
"I'll be there."
Michael had seldom taken so much trouble with his appearance. He showered, conditioned his hair, shaved twice, spent twenty minutes in front of the bathroom mirror wondering if his haircut made his face look too wide and whether he should care, then another fifteen minutes deciding what to wear. This decision was complicated by his not knowing quite what to expect from the evening. He had made his final selection and was putting his keys and wallet in his pockets when Emmett walked in.
"Hi, honey. Babylon tonight?"
"I can't, I've got something I have to take care of at the store."
Emmett took in Michael's appearance and tilted his head mockingly. "Don't lie to your Auntie Em, sweetie. You are preparing for an evening engagement. Who's the lucky man?"
Michael couldn't keep from smiling. "It's Ben. You know, the man you saw at the store."
"Oh, I remember; but didn't you say he was...?
"That's what we're trying to work out." Emmett looked concerned. "It's okay, Em, I won't do anything you wouldn't do."
"Hmmm. That still leaves a lot of options!" Michael laughed and hugged Emmett goodbye.
The evening went well. As always, Ben and Michael had overcome their initial awkwardness quickly, and fallen into easy conversation as Ben finished fixing dinner and MIchael set the table. They talked about Michael's shop, Ben's students, things they had done as children; for some reason they got into a long discussion about elevators. It was all very easy and comfortable.
As they sat together after dinner, drinking wine, Ben suddenly said, "Don't you want to know what happened with Anna?"
Michael looked down at his hands, self-conscious. "Yes, but I didn't want to bring it up myself. I wasn't sure how you'd feel about telling me." He met Ben's eyes. "Was she upset?"
"Upset doesn't begin to describe it. She was mostly just hurt and shocked. She started to cry, and then she got angry to cover it up. She called me a liar and a coward. Just like you did." He gave Michael an ironic half-smile.
Michael could see, could almost reach out and touch the pain Ben was feeling. He sat quietly and let Ben talk.
"Of course, it's true, and she had every reason to say so. But I hated being the one to cause her that much grief. I can't love her the way she wants, and I shouldn't have been with her, but I do love her--you understand, like..."
"Like a good friend?"
"Yes. Maybe the best friend I've ever had. And that's over with now."
"Maybe not." Ben looked back doubtfully. "I'm serious. I've seen situations like this. I was kind of in one myself. She might eventually forgive you, and you could still be friends."
Ben sighed. "I hope that's possible. But for now...And I still have coming out to my parents to look forward to." He shook his head, overwhelmed.
"I'm sorry, Ben."
"Don't be. I mean it, Michael. In the first place, you were right, it needed to be done. And I should have done it a lot sooner. And in the second place...." He paused to think. "At first, I thought of coming out because I wanted to be with you, and that was the price of admission. I still want to be with you," he added, turning to Michael with a look that made his heart pound. "But you gave me better reasons than that. I wanted to be someone who was good enough for you, and that meant giving up being, well, being a liar and a coward. And giving up deceiving people I cared about, and facing who I really am." He smiled at Michael. "After a while, I wasn't doing it for you, I was doing it for myself."
"Good. I don't think I could handle all that responsibility. Actually, I was a little worried."
"About what?"
"That you were annoyed, because I kept pushing you, telling you what I thought. I mean, how you live your life is none of my business."
"It is now. That is, I'd like it to be, if that's all right with you."
Michael had no sooner understood what was being offered, than he was taken aback by Ben rising, grasping Michael's wrists and pulling him to his feet. Before he could respond, he found himself in a close, warm embrace, Ben's arms around him, Ben's hand cradling the back of his head. As Michael looked up at him, Ben bent his head and sweetly captured Michael's mouth with his own.
All the time they had spent slowly working out problems and details, the frustration of being apart, of waiting, and the exhilaration of having it all over with, hit them at once like a strong wind. Clutching each other, they tore madly at their clothes, moving unsteadily toward the bedroom. Michael, hopping on one foot to remove his shoes, nearly fell over; Ben caught him and pushed him down on the bed, pulling his jeans off and tossing them aside. Michael lay and watched as Ben removed the rest of his own clothing. "Beautiful," he murmured. Ben was instantly beside him, stroking and kissing his body as though desperate not to leave a single inch untouched. He swiftly moved down and took Michael's cock in his mouth as if he wanted to swallow it whole. Michael moaned and writched with pleasure, feeling himself grow even harder, losing control "Ben," he gasped, "Stop!" Ben reluctantly stopped, looked up at him. "I want you inside me. Fuck me, Ben, please!"
Ben, breathless and dazed with lust, could only nod.
"Condoms?"
Ben looked around vaguely. "I think they're..." He gestured toward the bathroom.
Too far. Michael grabbed his jeans from the foot of the bed and pulled one out of his wallet. Pushing Ben onto his back, he deftly covered his cock, then rolled over invitingly.
Ben entered him carefully, waiting for the sting to subside, then moving slowly, kissing and caressing him, loving the way Michael's entire, sweet little body seemed to welcome him. Ben looked down at Michael, completely engrossed in every detail of his face, each moan or expression of delight driving him wild. The pleasure he felt was outlandish, preposterous. He heard Michael's voice and breathing change, and was thrilled to realize that he already knew how Michael moved and sounded as he came, knew it by heart. As Michael's eyes closed tightly and Ben felt his body constrict, his own body took control, and he was shaken by a violent, shattering orgasm that seemed to go on forever. At last, he opened his eyes to find Michael looking up at him, sleepy-eyed and content. Ben took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. "Oh my goodness gracious!" he whispered, and was immediately embarrassed by the drab, silly expression. Michael saw this and laughed softly up at him, reaching out and stroking his face at the same time, mocking him with such tenderness that Ben only felt loved and understood, and as if her were exactly where he belonged.
Later, much later, they sat together over the remains of breakfast, talking and making plans.
"So have you been thinking about this for long?" Michael was asking.
"Writing? I've always wanted to try, but something always held me back." Ben considered. "A writer has to be able to expose himself completely to the reader. How could I do that when I spent half my energy hiding? Maybe now I can actually do it."
"I bet you could. You have a way with words." Ben made a face. "By the way, if you have things to do, just let me know and I'll get out of here."
"It's Sunday; there's nothing I have to do until tomorrow. I was thinking we could spend the day together. If you want to," he added.
"I want to," Michael said simply. "Oh, and tonight you should come over and let me make you dinner. You've never even seen my place."
"That's true, I haven't. So you can cook?"
"Um, we can get take-out," Michael answered sheepishly.
"I thought so."
"So," Michael said slyly, "when do I get to meet your parents?" He burst out laughing at Ben's shocked expression. "Don't panic, I was only kidding!"
"Very funny," Ben said, mock-sternly. "Actually, that's something I have to think about. I need to talk to them. Soon, I suppose," he said anxiously.
"Sooner would be better, I think. The worst part is probably worrying about it."
Ben nodded. "Probably. The truth is, they're wonderful, open-minded people. I may have been blowing this all out of proportion."
"Which reminds me--I'd like you to meet my mother. Seriously."
"Oh! Would she be all right with that? Does she even know about you? I mean, about you being gay?"
"Since I was practically a kid. And yes, I think I can safely say she'll be 'all right' with you and me. In fact, she'll be ecstatic. Prepare to be smothered with love, acceptance, food, and highly personal questions."
"So many new experiences!" he quipped, deadpan.
"Here's another one," Michael said, "It's a beautiful day; suppose we go for a walk in the park and hold hands, right out in public."
Ben hesitated for only a second. "Well, why not?" he said. "Why not?"