Chapter Twenty-Two
I called my mother to collect from the first gas station I got to. She sent
Michael to pick me up. He was very angry with me. He reiterated it was not
my secret to tell. I knew he was right.
My mother was angrier. I had never seen her so angry, certainly not at me.
"I am really tired of this, Eric. I am tired of cleaning up your messes. I
am tired of you thinking only about yourself. You need to understand that
your actions and your deeds and your words affect others, not just you. Did
you think about how many people were going to be impacted by your
carelessness? Did you?"
I couldn't respond. I had only been the object of my mother's affection. I
had never before been the object of her ire. I didn't like it. I didn't
like it at all.
I told her what happened, starting with Henry's declaration of chastity in
his house. I told her why I had felt compelled to tell Steve about the
baby. I tried to explain that it was, in fact, a compulsion, not a choice.
I was not sure even I believed my words.
When I was finished, my mother called the Lustigs. When Henry got to the
telephone, my mother told him he needed to come over, and to bring Steve.
There was quite a scene around our table. In order, it was my mother, her
lover, her former lover, her former lover's son, and her son, who was
dating her former lover's son.
My mother told Henry about the baby. He did not seem surprised. I assumed
Steve had warned him, so he did not react emotionally in front of all of us.
My mother told him the depth of his involvement was up to him, that she did
not expect anything from him, that she was leaving Paris, and that she and
Michael planned to raise the baby as their own. Michael chimed in that he
already loved the baby like a father.
Henry responded that he needed to think, but he was glad he knew and
certain Ellen could not know. It would be too much for her. He was also
certain he wanted to contribute financially to raising the baby. My mother
assured him that was not necessary, that the only question he needed to
resolve was whether and to what extent he wanted to know his child.
My mother looked to me and asked if I had anything to add. I didn't want
to, but she had already insisted that I had to.
"Mr. Lustig, I want to apologize for how disrespectful I've been to you and
your family. I should have behaved better as a guest in your home."
"Apology accepted, Eric."
"Steve, I want to apologize for my reaction today. I'm a bit of a
porcupine. When I feel defensive or vulnerable, the quills come out.
Anyway, I'm really sorry."
"I understand." Not an acceptance, but not a rejection, either.
My mother added her voice. "Steve, I know you're mad at Eric for not
telling you sooner. Please understand, I'm mad at him for telling you when
he did. It was not his secret to tell. He felt pressure from all sides, and
it's hard to know what to do in that situation. When I told him about the
baby, I had no intention of ever telling your father, and I swore him to
secrecy. I shouldn't have. I know how secrets weigh on him. They trap him."
"Can we leave?" Steve asked.
"Don't you want to talk to Eric privately?" his father asked back.
"No," Steve crushed me back.
******
As I laid in bed that night, I worried Steve was slowly drifting away from
me. I thought love was ephemeral and vulnerable; I fretted that my response
to Steve may have fractured the fragile egg that was our "relationship."
Steve was clearly struggling. I did not hear from him on Sunday, and he was
ambivalent to me on Monday. I was pouting at home on Monday night when he
knocked on the door.
"I was not very gracious Saturday, Eric. I should have accepted your
apology."
I was trying to figure out how to play it when I decided not to play it at
all. "You're being gracious now. That's good enough for me."
"I'm struggling, Eric. I don't think the ground beneath me was very firm to
begin with, and I was unsettled by the news, by the cavalier way you acted,
and by the way you reacted to my reaction. It was an ugly side I had never
seen before."
"We all have an ugly side, Steve. I saw yours long ago. You saw mine
Saturday."
"I think I need some time to think, Eric. I got caught up in a whirlwind,
and I'm not sure I like where it's dropped me. It's all a bit much for me,
actually."
I wanted to scream. I didn't understand how our car had just gone faster
and faster and faster and was all of the sudden stopping. Instead, I told
Steve to take all the time he needed, I would be there when his time was
up. I pretended to be stronger than I was. I broke when he was gone.
Michael was there to piece me back together. He rocked me, talked me, and
walked me back to peace. Then, he dosed me with truth.
"Eric, you need to take inventory of where you are and where you are going.
Steve is not where you are. He doesn't want what you want. You want him to
be your now and your tomorrow. He just wants you to be his now."
I put my hands over my ears. I didn't want to hear what I knew.
Chapter Twenty-Three
As Steve struggled, I waited. Lori interrupted my wait with troublesome
news. "Karen Nemelka's sniffing around your man," she said.
"She's sniffing the wrong man," I said. She didn't believe me. I didn't,
either.
With Sally not around to invade, I slid a note through the slats in Steve's
locker:
Steve:
I am so sorry for my part in this rupture.
I hope you come back.
I miss you.
I miss us.
Eric
When school ended, Steve was at my locker and offered to drive me home.
But, he didn't drive me home. Instead, he drove me back to the scene of the
crime, the secluded picnic table.
"Why are we here, Steve?"
"To turn back the clock. I want to go back to where we were. Lie down on
the grass."
I did. He did, too. We were as we were.
"Let's pretend there's no baby," he said. "Let's pretend we've just
finished making love in the back seat and are here, relaxing and soaking it
all in."
"I love you, Steve."
"I love you, too, Eric."
"I want to spend the day here with you."
"Let's do it."
We rested there quietly for a long time. Every once and again, Steve
squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back.
Calm spread over me, for the first time in awhile. Every other time I had
been this close to Steve, sex intruded. On this day, in this moment, there
was no intrusion. I loved this moment for this moment, not for what it
portended or promised, but for what it was.
As we drove home, I joked that Steve could drop me where he'd dropped me
before. "Don't tempt me," he joked.
I decided to press the moment. "I hear Karen's been sniffing around."
"She has."
"Are you interested?"
"I'm interested in the fact she's interested."
"Why?"
"She knows about you, but she either doesn't care or thinks you're no match
for her. I'm interested in finding out which one."
I wondered if it was that innocent. I hoped it was, but I was circumspect.
"You should ask her out," I said.
"Eric, stop. You don't mean that, and I know you don't mean that. Stop
pretending you mean what you don't."
"Okay, Steve. But, I think sooner than later, you are going to have to
choose your future, and I don't think you're going to choose me. I don't
think I'm your future."
"We can't know the future. We can only know the now. I'm here now."
"Pull over."
He did. I moved my face to his, kissing his mouth, his chin, and his neck.
As I did, I unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans and released him. It had been
awhile. I took Steve in my mouth, and I sucked him as hard as I could. He
came quickly, filling my mouth. I drank all he offered.
Steve responded by pinning me to the door. He kissed me, licked me, and did
what I had done to him; he took me in his mouth, and he worked me until I
finished deep in his throat.
*****
As the semester headed toward its close, Karen kept sniffing around. I had
Steve, but my grip was tenuous.
I was certain Steve and I would be going to Prom together, but he never
asked. I didn't, either. Action became inaction, and we ultimately decided
to skip Prom. And, by we, I mean, he.
Lori busted my bliss. "He wanted to take her, not you. He knew you'd
explode, so he balked at taking either of you."
"You're speculating."
"Maybe. But, maybe not. And, that's pretty scary, isn't it?"
It was. I wanted to ask Steve, but I couldn't bear the pain of the wrong
answer.
Instead of going to Prom, we gathered in Steve's basement. We had a great
time, mimicking our post-Coronation party. Steve and I abided by the new
rules. When the party was over, we slept in different rooms. I lay there
hoping he'd sneak in, but he didn't.
Chapter Twenty-Four
As graduation approached, my mother, Michael, and my unborn sister were
planning their move to Columbus, Ohio. They wanted to be in a college town.
It was not lost on me that Columbus was only a half hour from Denison. The
cord that bound me and my mother had never been cut. I doubted it ever
would be.
I was stunned when the faculty nominated me to speak at our graduation
ceremony. I could only assume Michael had engineered it, so I asked him
about it.
"I nominated you, but that's all. In my nomination, I explained that you
more than any other student exemplified the resilience necessary to
navigate high school and emerge better and whole upon graduation. Enough
other people agreed that you now have a platform. Use it bravely and
wisely."
I doubted that they agreed. I suspected they feared the return of the
Chicago lawyer more than they admired my "resilience."
Still, I worked furiously on what I would say. Michael helped me a lot,
pulling me back when I was too close to the edge and pushing my forward
when I was too timid.
Steve and I had spent the past two months in a bit of a rope a dope. Some
days, it was like it had been. Steve couldn't get enough of me, and we
snuck out together whenever we could. We were together, emotionally and
physically, like that day in the clearing when we cleared the air.
Other days, Steve was aloof and distant. Even when we were together, he was
elsewhere.
I knew he was struggling, straddling the now and the future. I also knew
there was nothing I could do about it. I could not change what I could not
change.
I was wearying of the tergiversations. Like I said, I wanted to be
someone's someone. Increasingly, I knew I would never be that for him.
The summer could be tell-tale. My mother and Michael were leaving as soon
as Michael completed his year. I could go with them or stay in Paris with
the Lustigs (Henry had agreed I could live with them and work at his plant,
provided Steve and I abided by the rules). I put it to Steve, and he was
thinking about it. I knew he enjoyed spending time with me. We learned a
lot from each other, and our conversations were beyond the normal
conversations of 18 year old boys.
I also knew my presence challenged who he thought he was or would be. Like
I said, I could see the struggle in his eyes as he counter-balanced today
and tomorrow.
My graduation speech was coming together. I entitled it "The Climb." I took
my inspiration from Evans' story of the hole and from William Goldman's
"The Princess Bride," namely Vizzini's commentary as Inigo ascended the
cliffs.
On May 24, 1986, I delivered my speech in an anxious voice. I wore a black
gown and hat. I wore two ear rings. I wore eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick.
To summit the mountain. That's our goal. Today, tomorrow, always. We climb,
yearning to reach the top.
For some, it is easier than it is for others. No one starts at the same
spot. If you're poor, you start lower. If you're a woman, you start lower.
If you're a minority, you start lower. If you're gay, you start lower. No
matter where you start, you must climb.
There are natural obstacles. If you're not intellectually talented, it's
going to take you longer. If you're not athletically talented, it's going
to take you longer. If you're not physically attractive, it's going to take
you longer. If you're not whatever it is that society wants you to be, it's
going to take you longer. But, no matter how many natural obstacles litter
your path, you must climb.
There are unnatural obstacles. Some are external. The biases of others, the
bullying by others, the ignorance of others, the prejudices of others, the
suicide of your father. All will make the path steeper. But, no matter how
steep the path gets, you must keep climbing.
Some are internal. If you are a boy and you play with Barbies, like to wear
makeup, and pierce your ears, you'll make your path steeper. If you're
challenging or defiant, you'll make your path steeper. If you buck
strictures or refuse to conform, you'll make your path steeper. But, no
matter how steep your path, you must keep climbing.
No matter where each of us started or how steep our path, we are here
because we all started and kept climbing. You must keep climbing.
As we go forward, I have two hopes for all of us. First, I hope that, when
we get the chance, we make the climb for others as short and as smooth as
we can. Remove obstacles, don't add to them. Flatten the incline, don't
steepen it. Clear a path as you climb, so it's easier for those who follow,
yearning to reach the top.
Second, I hope that each of us keeps climbing, no matter what obstacles are
in our path or how steep the path becomes. We will falter and we will
fall. Some of us will fall all the way back to the bottom. When we do, we
have to get up and start climbing all over again.
No matter what, we must keep climbing. It's the only way to reach the top,
and each and every one of us deserves and needs to reach the top, to summit
the mountain, to breathe the thin air of achievement.
So, please keep climbing. Whatever you do, whatever comes your way, keep
climbing.
Thank you.
I walked off the stage into my mother's waiting arms. I knew I'd be
emotional when I was finished, as, on some level, I was talking about my
father. He had stopped climbing.
But I was also talking about my mother. Her path had been more littered and
steep than it should have been, but she had kept climbing. And, she had
kept me climbing, no matter what obstacles life or I had placed in my way.
We both kept climbing.
*****
After the ceremony, we found ourselves in a fraught circle. Ellen, Henry,
and Steve were with me, Michael, and my mother (and, of course, my unborn
sister). Steve crushed me in an embrace, told me how awesome my speech had
been, and told me he wanted to kiss me hard on the mouth. I whispered "do
it," and he said he couldn't in front of his mother. Ellen and Henry echoed
Steve's sentiment, at least about the speech.
Steve surprised us all. "I want to be with Eric. So, we can either all go
out to dinner together, or Eric and I can go alone."
The adults were stunned into silence. Ellen, who didn't know what the rest
of us knew, suggested we all go together. "It's probably the last time
we'll see the Kamler's."
My mother visibly blanched. I saw Michael squeeze her hand. Henry waded in.
"Ellen, that sounds lovely. But, I think maybe we should let the boys have
this day. It's their graduation, after all." Before anyone could disagree,
Henry pulled bills out of his wallet, handed them to Steve, and told us to
have a wonderful time on him.
I kissed my mother good-bye and told her I loved her and would see her the
following day. Lori was having a graduation party, and all attendees were
required to spend the night.
"I love you, too, Eric. Very much. Keep climbing."
Chapter Twenty-Five
Over dinner, I was reminded again of all I loved about Steve, especially
his eyes and his smile. Both were dancing as we talked.
"I knew what you were going to say, Eric. But, the words on paper didn't
match the words in my ears. They were lyrical."
"Thank you."
"I've been thinking about this summer. I think you should stay with us and
work for my dad."
"Thank you," I answered, not accepting. He had taken a long time, maybe too
long, in reaching that decision.
Steve was glued to me at Lori's, holding my hand, nuzzling my neck, and
stealing kisses whenever he could. "Can we go somewhere?" he asked.
"Sure. I know a place."
We grabbed a sleeping bag and snuck out the back, climbed the fence, and
headed to the creek bank. We settled on the grass under the moon and kissed
and kissed and kissed. "I need to be with you," Steve insisted.
I pulled my shirt over my head, and he did the same. As we kissed, we
touched each other's chests, sides, and shoulders. Steve pushed me backward
and covered me. My skin tingled under his. I clamped him to me as he drove
his tongue deep into my mouth. He kissed me with a passion and recklessness
that had been missing for awhile.
As Steve kissed my neck, my shoulder, my chest, my side, and my stomach, he
unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans. I raised up as he pulled them and my
underwear down and took me in my mouth.
"Hold on," I croaked. "Take them all the way off."
Steve pulled my shoes and then my jeans and underwear off.
"Yours, too."
Steve stood up, stepped out of his shoes, and tugged his jeans off. He
covered me with himself, mouth to mouth, chest to chest, and crotch to
crotch. I took his toes between mine. It was the most intimate moment of my
life. I never wanted it to end, but I knew it had to. Sex was in the air.
Steve moved back down my body and took me in his mouth. Every time I got
close, he backed off. For the first time with him, I felt like what was
happening was about me. My entire body was on fire by the time he finally
let me finish. He kissed his way back up my body. I could taste myself on
his tongue.
"I want to make love to you."
"Please do."
I raised my legs and guided him in. The sex was tender and slow and sweet.
As he had with me, every time he got close, he backed off. I begged him to
come, not because I wanted the sex to end, but because I needed to feel him
swell and fill me. I ached for it.
I came when he did, coating my chest and stomach. Steve collapsed onto me,
spent.
"My God, Eric, that was the best yet."
He was right. It was. Because there was mutuality to it.
"Can we sleep out here tonight, under the stars?" I asked.
"Sure," he said.
We cleaned up with our shirts and climbed into the sleeping bag, naked. We
intertwined ourselves as we kissed. I felt Steve's breathing change as he
fell asleep. I fought sleep off. I didn't want this night to end. I knew
more than the night would end.
When Steve woke up the next morning, I was either awake or still awake. I
knew what I needed to do, but the prospect of doing it made me anxious.
"Good morning," Steve said, kissing my forehead.
"Good morning."
"Did you sleep okay?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I spent most of the night thinking."
"About what?"
"About this summer and about us."
"I think it'll be fun."
"I think it can't happen."
"Why not?" he asked, sitting up.
"Many reasons. One, I want to be there when our sister's born. Two, I want
to spend time with my mother and her new husband before I head off to
college and everything changes. Three, and most importantly, I need to let
you go. I think I cloud your judgment. I think you'd have floated away by
now if I wasn't holding so tight to the string."
"I love you, Eric."
"I know, Steve. I love you, too. But I think you're pretending to be
something you're not. And, I think I'm pretending you're something you're
not. I think we need to stop pretending. You know how much pretending
threatens me. . . . I'd love it if I was enough for you. But I'm not. I'd
love it if you were enough for me. But you're not. We should stop
pretending otherwise while we can do so voluntarily and without a complete
rupture. With our sister coming, we're going to be in each other's lives a
long time. We need a happy ending, not a sad or ugly one."
Steve didn't say anything. I put my head on his shoulder, and he put his
head on mine. When the silence was too much for me to bear, I asked Steve
to talk to me.
"About what?"
"Whatever you want."
"Okay," he said. "Once upon a time, there was a strange boy in makeup at a
small high school in small Illinois town. . . ." As he talked, I lowered
him, and I put my head on his chest. I cried as he told me the fairy tale
of a popular high school boy who accidentally fell in love with the strange
boy in makeup at a small high school in a small Illinois town.
