asked you not to give Dad a hard time about church this morning?”
“Dad can go to hell,” I mumbled.
I could hear a hard rain on the roof.
“Dad made a mistake,” Mom said. “He was exhausted by the time he got here last night.”
“Some mistake.”
As soon as Jack’s car had left, Mom had come downstairs. I don’t know what Dad’d told her, but her face was white as milk. I said go in the kitchen and look at the chair Jack sat in. I said he took off his pants and coat to let the paint dry, so you’d better rush back upstairs and tell Dad not to worry, he has only one fag son, not two. Mom said she’d slap my face if she ever heard me say that word again.
Before I’d gone to sleep, I’d tossed the pamphlet about AIDS on the floor, beside my socks and Nikes. Mom went around to the side of my bed and picked it up. “Erick, I told you I don’t want this lying around where Mrs. Tompkins can see it.” She stuck it in my bureau drawer.
“What are we going to tell Mrs. Tompkins and everyone else, that Pete is dying of a bug he picked up in Paris?”
Mom whirled around. “What did you just say?”
“That pamphlet says it’s always fatal.”
“I don’t care what it says. That’s not necessarily true.”
“Didn’t you read it?”
“Just get up, Erick. We’re going to talk about it later.”
“I’m not going to church with Dad.”
“He’s counting on it.”
“Tough! I was counting on him to know me a little better than he seems to. I was counting on him to know Jack a little better, too.”
“Don’t start all this now,” Mom said. “I don’t have the patience.”
She went out of the room and slammed the door.
I listened to the rain for a while. Then I heard him coming down the hall, his footsteps mad. Oh, he’s mad, I thought. Beautiful.
Then he was in my room.
“I overreacted last night, Erick. I was tired. I’d had a long session with Phil Kerin, and there was a traffic tie-up on the Montauk Highway.”
“I can’t believe you thought what you thought.”
“I can’t believe you got around to painting those chairs.”
“And never mind me. You’ve known Jack since he was born.”
“I’ve known Pete since he was born, too.”
“I’m not Pete! Neither is Jack.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“No, you didn’t. You said you’d overreacted.”
“All right. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not going to forget that one.”
“Then forgive it. That’s what church is for, anyway: forgiveness. Get out of bed and get dressed!”
“I’m not ready to forgive it, either.”
“What do you care what I thought? Last weekend you said it was just another way of being.”
“It’s not what I choose for myself, that’s all.”
“Pete tells me it’s not a matter of choice.”
“I don’t know what the hell it is! I only know I’m not that way!”
“Then you have something to be thankful for! Church is for that, too. Get up! Now!”
I knew he’d wait until I slung my legs over the side of the bed. “Mom gave me a booklet that says AIDS is always fatal,” I said. “How come that’s never been mentioned?”
“We’re going to talk after church,” Dad said. “First we’ll pray.”
I was almost dressed when Jack called.
“I’m rushing now, Jack. I have to go to church with the family.”
“Could you talk to Nicki, Erick? She respects your opinions. Tell her I’m going crazy. Tell her just to see me. She won’t see me.”
“She’s not worth all this, Jack.”
“Would I tell you Dill wasn’t worth it if you were going through something with Dill?”
“She’s not Dill.”
“Just talk to her. Please?”
“I don’t know when I can do that. After church we’re having dinner at The Frog Pond.”
“Tell your dad I’m getting him a six-pack of Molson’s.”
“He’s not mad about that,” I said. “He was mad about a traffic tie-up on the Montauk Highway.”
“Will you go to see Nicki for me?”
“Not today. I can’t…. You don’t know
“Dad can go to hell,” I mumbled.
I could hear a hard rain on the roof.
“Dad made a mistake,” Mom said. “He was exhausted by the time he got here last night.”
“Some mistake.”
As soon as Jack’s car had left, Mom had come downstairs. I don’t know what Dad’d told her, but her face was white as milk. I said go in the kitchen and look at the chair Jack sat in. I said he took off his pants and coat to let the paint dry, so you’d better rush back upstairs and tell Dad not to worry, he has only one fag son, not two. Mom said she’d slap my face if she ever heard me say that word again.
Before I’d gone to sleep, I’d tossed the pamphlet about AIDS on the floor, beside my socks and Nikes. Mom went around to the side of my bed and picked it up. “Erick, I told you I don’t want this lying around where Mrs. Tompkins can see it.” She stuck it in my bureau drawer.
“What are we going to tell Mrs. Tompkins and everyone else, that Pete is dying of a bug he picked up in Paris?”
Mom whirled around. “What did you just say?”
“That pamphlet says it’s always fatal.”
“I don’t care what it says. That’s not necessarily true.”
“Didn’t you read it?”
“Just get up, Erick. We’re going to talk about it later.”
“I’m not going to church with Dad.”
“He’s counting on it.”
“Tough! I was counting on him to know me a little better than he seems to. I was counting on him to know Jack a little better, too.”
“Don’t start all this now,” Mom said. “I don’t have the patience.”
She went out of the room and slammed the door.
I listened to the rain for a while. Then I heard him coming down the hall, his footsteps mad. Oh, he’s mad, I thought. Beautiful.
Then he was in my room.
“I overreacted last night, Erick. I was tired. I’d had a long session with Phil Kerin, and there was a traffic tie-up on the Montauk Highway.”
“I can’t believe you thought what you thought.”
“I can’t believe you got around to painting those chairs.”
“And never mind me. You’ve known Jack since he was born.”
“I’ve known Pete since he was born, too.”
“I’m not Pete! Neither is Jack.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“No, you didn’t. You said you’d overreacted.”
“All right. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not going to forget that one.”
“Then forgive it. That’s what church is for, anyway: forgiveness. Get out of bed and get dressed!”
“I’m not ready to forgive it, either.”
“What do you care what I thought? Last weekend you said it was just another way of being.”
“It’s not what I choose for myself, that’s all.”
“Pete tells me it’s not a matter of choice.”
“I don’t know what the hell it is! I only know I’m not that way!”
“Then you have something to be thankful for! Church is for that, too. Get up! Now!”
I knew he’d wait until I slung my legs over the side of the bed. “Mom gave me a booklet that says AIDS is always fatal,” I said. “How come that’s never been mentioned?”
“We’re going to talk after church,” Dad said. “First we’ll pray.”
I was almost dressed when Jack called.
“I’m rushing now, Jack. I have to go to church with the family.”
“Could you talk to Nicki, Erick? She respects your opinions. Tell her I’m going crazy. Tell her just to see me. She won’t see me.”
“She’s not worth all this, Jack.”
“Would I tell you Dill wasn’t worth it if you were going through something with Dill?”
“She’s not Dill.”
“Just talk to her. Please?”
“I don’t know when I can do that. After church we’re having dinner at The Frog Pond.”
“Tell your dad I’m getting him a six-pack of Molson’s.”
“He’s not mad about that,” I said. “He was mad about a traffic tie-up on the Montauk Highway.”
“Will you go to see Nicki for me?”
“Not today. I can’t…. You don’t know
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