to admit there’s always been a part of me that has wanted exactly what I said I didn’t: that joint checking account, that Saturday night safety blanket, that cozy presumption that the person across the breakfast table from me will still be there when I turn seventy. Never had I found that with Lloyd: oh, the trappings of it, maybe, the illusion. But Lloyd had always chafed against too much commitment, too much domestic permanence.
Until Eva, that is. He can buy a house with Eva, but never with me.
Why should I trust that it’s any different now? I try to imagine what it would be like. I’d schlepp myself down to Provincetown and help build their home together, and then Lloyd would turn to me someday and say, “Well, you know, I can’t really commit to you.” I’d walk in and find him with Drake—the guy he’d originally left me for—or somebody else, who he’d eventually leave, too, just as he had left Drake and me. What guarantees do I have that the past won’t merely repeat itself?
“There are no guarantees in life, darling,” Javitz always said. I laugh as I walk down Ninth Avenue, and Anthony looks over at me curiously. I’ve actually parroted the same words to Henry, many times, with the same weary inflection Javitz used to use, whenever Henry has started fretting about finding love and a husband. “No guarantees,” I tell him, “just the eternal hope that what you’re looking for is just around the corner.”
Hope . Despite everything, it’s still there, inside me. I can’t deny that I still hope somehow, some way, Lloyd and I will be back together, finishing what we started. I just can’t give up on him. I might be fearful, I might be wary, but I can’t give up. Not yet. The memories of our life together have never receded as far as I might pretend. The thought of holding Lloyd in the breathing position, in my arms, in our bed late at night, safe from everything, together—that image is never very far from my consciousness. Sure, I’ve moved on; I have a life of my own now. But I’m drawn back, as ever. Drawn back to what Lloyd and I had, what we shared.
So I’ll go down to Provincetown. I’ll see the house. I’ll meet Eva and give it a chance—
“Jeff?”
I look over at Anthony. I realize I’ve been lost in my own thoughts, and that Anthony has asked me a question.
“I’m sorry. I was ...”
“In another world.” Anthony smiles. We’ve stopped at the corner of Ninth and Fourteenth. “I was asking you if you always use a condom.”
I laugh at the starkness of the question. “Well, yes,” I tell him. I’d slipped one on both times I’d fucked him. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, you’re the first guy I’ve been with who has.”
I stare at him. “You mean, you’ve been going bareback for the last six months?”
He nods. “I guess that’s being kind of risky, huh?”
“More than kind of.” I sigh. How much should I say? I’ve just met this guy. We’re about ready to part ways forever. I can’t start pontificating to him. Besides, the issue is too complex.
“Look, Anthony,” I say after a few moments’ thought. “Just be informed, okay? You’ve just come out, you’re learning your way. Do yourself a favor and get some HIV material and read up. Don’t just bareback because some guy says it’s okay.” I hesitate. “And you might want to get tested.”
He looks at me strangely. “That’s the most anyone has ever said to me on the subject. Thanks, Jeff.” He reaches over and kisses me on the cheek.
I blush a little. “Just take care of yourself.”
“I wish you didn’t have to go back to Boston.”
I look at my watch. Okay. So here it is. The place where we say good-bye. “I’m supposed to meet Henry at Grand Central at six o’clock,” I tell him.
Anthony frowns. “That’s too bad, tonight being Saturday and all.”
“Yeah, I know but—well, I promised my nephew I’d take him to the movies tomorrow. He’s in Connecticut. He’s
Until Eva, that is. He can buy a house with Eva, but never with me.
Why should I trust that it’s any different now? I try to imagine what it would be like. I’d schlepp myself down to Provincetown and help build their home together, and then Lloyd would turn to me someday and say, “Well, you know, I can’t really commit to you.” I’d walk in and find him with Drake—the guy he’d originally left me for—or somebody else, who he’d eventually leave, too, just as he had left Drake and me. What guarantees do I have that the past won’t merely repeat itself?
“There are no guarantees in life, darling,” Javitz always said. I laugh as I walk down Ninth Avenue, and Anthony looks over at me curiously. I’ve actually parroted the same words to Henry, many times, with the same weary inflection Javitz used to use, whenever Henry has started fretting about finding love and a husband. “No guarantees,” I tell him, “just the eternal hope that what you’re looking for is just around the corner.”
Hope . Despite everything, it’s still there, inside me. I can’t deny that I still hope somehow, some way, Lloyd and I will be back together, finishing what we started. I just can’t give up on him. I might be fearful, I might be wary, but I can’t give up. Not yet. The memories of our life together have never receded as far as I might pretend. The thought of holding Lloyd in the breathing position, in my arms, in our bed late at night, safe from everything, together—that image is never very far from my consciousness. Sure, I’ve moved on; I have a life of my own now. But I’m drawn back, as ever. Drawn back to what Lloyd and I had, what we shared.
So I’ll go down to Provincetown. I’ll see the house. I’ll meet Eva and give it a chance—
“Jeff?”
I look over at Anthony. I realize I’ve been lost in my own thoughts, and that Anthony has asked me a question.
“I’m sorry. I was ...”
“In another world.” Anthony smiles. We’ve stopped at the corner of Ninth and Fourteenth. “I was asking you if you always use a condom.”
I laugh at the starkness of the question. “Well, yes,” I tell him. I’d slipped one on both times I’d fucked him. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, you’re the first guy I’ve been with who has.”
I stare at him. “You mean, you’ve been going bareback for the last six months?”
He nods. “I guess that’s being kind of risky, huh?”
“More than kind of.” I sigh. How much should I say? I’ve just met this guy. We’re about ready to part ways forever. I can’t start pontificating to him. Besides, the issue is too complex.
“Look, Anthony,” I say after a few moments’ thought. “Just be informed, okay? You’ve just come out, you’re learning your way. Do yourself a favor and get some HIV material and read up. Don’t just bareback because some guy says it’s okay.” I hesitate. “And you might want to get tested.”
He looks at me strangely. “That’s the most anyone has ever said to me on the subject. Thanks, Jeff.” He reaches over and kisses me on the cheek.
I blush a little. “Just take care of yourself.”
“I wish you didn’t have to go back to Boston.”
I look at my watch. Okay. So here it is. The place where we say good-bye. “I’m supposed to meet Henry at Grand Central at six o’clock,” I tell him.
Anthony frowns. “That’s too bad, tonight being Saturday and all.”
“Yeah, I know but—well, I promised my nephew I’d take him to the movies tomorrow. He’s in Connecticut. He’s
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