Drowning of Stephan Jones (14 page)

“Well,” said Judith, opening the door for the departing couple, “I’d say have fun, but I can tell that it’s completely unnecessary.” Carla gave her mother a sudden embrace and then they were gone, heading toward the Harrises’ Oldsmobile waiting at the curb.

Chapter 15

F
RANK BACKED THE
monster out of the garage and around to the front of the house. He craned his neck for Stephan, who should have been hurrying out the front door to meet him. But no such luck. Why was it, he wondered, when Stephan said he was ready, and when he
looked
as though he were ready, still and all, he wasn’t ready.

If tardiness showed a lack of respect for other people’s time, then shouldn’t he give Stephan a good piece of his mind? With his fist, he struck the vehicle’s horn. He felt his annoyance building. It wasn’t even the three, five, or even ten minutes that he would be waiting that made him so mad. What was really steaming him up was the fear that Stephan didn’t care enough about him to be on time.

Frank closed his eyes and dropped his head against the steering wheel. The argument, if they had one, would revolve around Frank’s demand that his partner arrive at a destination precisely when he was expected. Undoubtedly that’s what they would argue about. But deep down Frank knew that was not the real concern. Frank couldn’t help that clumsily knotted up inside of him was the feeling that: Frank Feels Angry Because He Doesn’t Feel Loved Enough.

But this night was meant for celebrating, not for bickering. Today they would mark the ten-month anniversary of their time in Parson Springs. Business was good, better even than they had dared hope. They were beginning to make a friend or two, and even that trouble early on with those three boys seemed to be a thing of the past—albeit the not-yet-forgotten past.

During those weeks of intense harassment, Frank had felt as though he were suffering from a dull but relentless headache. An early-to-bed, early-to-rise headache from which
he would never break free. It seemed so insoluble at the time. No one exactly rushed to their aid. But eventually it was resolved. Two dawn-to-dusk floodlights outside their store and a tap on their phone made Andy Harris back off. Frank wondered if the kid had gotten bored with writing letters without receiving any response. He didn’t really care. It was over and done with and that was relief enough.

The door of the recreational vehicle swung open and Stephan hopped in. As he slid into the passenger’s seat, Frank sniffed the air. “Hey, that’s my cologne you’re wearing!”

Stephan wrinkled his nose. “Don’t you just love it?” At the Blue Spruce Inn they were seated at a candlelit table overlooking foggy Baxter Pond where they toasted Forgotten Treasures. After feasting on crispy duck in orange sauce, they had a second round of toasts. The dessert, lemon cheesecake with raspberry sauce, was so good that it inspired still another round of toasts.

By nine o’clock their dessert plates had been cleared, their wine bottle had been drained, and yet there was still too much life in the ol’ night to call it a night.

“How about going to the bar at the top of the hotel?” suggested Stephan. “We could listen to some country and western music?”

As the two men strolled through the ornate, turn-of-the-century lobby of the Majestic Hotel, which sat serenely on top of the uppermost crest of Magic Mountain, they were drawn to the sounds of live music coming from the softly lit ballroom.

On the opposite side of the dance floor, a divinely happy Carla and Andy were dancing. She was thrilled beyond belief that the once-elusive Andy Harris was not only her prom date, but her very attentive boyfriend. She pressed herself still closer, which suddenly alarmed him. “Hey, don’t go getting lipstick on my jacket!” he warned. “If my daddy doesn’t get his fifty-buck deposit back on this tux, he’ll kill me. Honest-to-God,
he will!”

Taking a look inside the festive ballroom, Frank and Stephan observed a sea of young men in rented tuxedos and an even larger sea of young men who evidently didn’t have the price of a rented tux. These were the ones wearing their Sunday-best blue suits. But with or without tux, each held a girl in her best frilly finery in his arms. Watching that, Stephan turned away in sadness and in anger. “My God, I wish I could shake those dancers—try to make them understand how lucky they are.”

Frank did a double take. “How so?”

“You know, they can’t
possibly
appreciate how privileged they are. How could they?” Stephan tossed his head back toward the ballroom. “They’re free! They have
always
been free because they’ve never had to hide their feelings. For them it’s okay not only to feel love, but also to show it.”

Concerned, Frank beckoned Stephan to follow. They entered a deserted function room petitioned off from the main ballroom by only a mustard-colored accordion room divider. From the other side, the band began playing a modern love song about being lost, lonely, and afraid, “Until Love Came My Way.” Stephan knew the lyrics and his eyes seemed connected with Frank’s as he sang with a voice ripe with feeling. A voice that could have told the composer-lyricist a thing or two or three about being alone and lonely “Until Love Came My Way. ...”

As the hours flew by and the prom progressed, the music and the dancing grew increasingly loud and animated.

When a song ended, the shaggy-haired leader of the combo stepped up to the standing mike and raised his hands. “It’s now five minutes before midnight, so the next number will be the last dance, and ...”

The spontaneous groans of the revelers drowned out his next words. The musician whistled loudly into the microphone, and that went a long way toward settling everyone down. “Thanks a bunch you all for inviting yours truly, Dave and his Wildmen,
to entertain you at your senior prom. We hope you’ll have us play for you again sometime real soon. We’re going to end with a great treat. The girl voted “Most Talented” member of the senior class, Sherry Ingalls, has agreed to sing the last song of the night. Please give a big hand to Sherry singing, ‘My Great Love.’”

Andy’s arms slid around Carla’s waist as he whispered softly into her ear, “Found you!” She smiled and whispered, “You know you never lost me.”

Prancing up from amid the wildly enthusiastic crowd to the stage, slender Sherry Ingalls began singing in her reedy voice, “I found my love ... my own great love tucked in your arms.”

Andy enveloped Carla in his arms. And if there were some sort of scale that could measure human happiness, just one passing glance would reveal that here at last was one couple whose reading would be high, very, very high.

Minutes later amid waves, raucous cheers, and elaborate farewells, the three couples who had come to the party together left laughing together through the dignified marble and mahogany lobby. By the time they reached the rear parking lot, there was already a long procession of cars queuing up for a more-or-less orderly exit.

Donna moaned as did her date, Doug the Ironman. “Oh, no, we’ll never get out of here!” he added.

“Don’t worry ’cause that won’t matter when you see what I’ve got,” exclaimed Andy as he pulled Carla into his trot. “One look and you won’t care how long it takes us to leave.” Obediently the others loped along behind them until reaching the rear of the Olds. Andy inserted his key into the trunk lock. “Come feast your eyes.” As the trunk opened the light went on and an oversized red cooler was exposed. And everyone saw it was filled to capacity with ice and frosty cans of beer. Andy beamed. “A graduation gift from my old man.”

Chapter 16

A
T
S
KIPPER’S
B
AR
on the penthouse floor of the grand old hotel, Frank and Stephan sat at a table next to a wall of glass. It was nearly one o’clock in the morning, and the music played by Jerry at the piano had become mellower. “If a genie popped out to grant me three wishes,” said Frank, “I’d probably waste one wishing that the Red Sox would win the world series. I know they never will. I swear they’ve got a death wish.”

“Does your Red Sox wish come before or
after
your wish for a vehicle that doesn’t require three parking places? One wish of mine,” continued Stephan, “is being at an art auction and the only one to recognize that the painting coming up on the block was by an Old Master. My favorite fantasy, though, is becoming a great stand-up comic.”

Frank registered mild surprise. “Are you serious? I’ve never heard you tell a joke.”

“That’s only because I’m not a great stand-up comic.”

Frank laughed and then from the laughter, his face took on a more thoughtful look. “What if,” he asked, striking his own chest with his index finger, “I had the power to grant one and only one wish for you. What would your most cherished wish be?”

“Are you getting tired? I am.”

“Why you faker! You don’t want to tell me, do you?”

“Maybe ... another time.”

Frank gazed out the window and realized that this less than a speck on the map of Arkansas had captured his love. This crazy town
and
Stephan Jones.

“All right,” relented Stephan. “I’ll tell you, but consider yourself warned.”

“So considered.”

“I’d like us to become active members—firm believers in a church, one that preaches love and yet doesn’t stray too far from a strict, literal interpretation of the Bible.”

“Ohh, I was hoping you’d request something easy like a ride on the next space shuttle. Look, I don’t have any objection to sometimes attending church with you, most any church, but ...

“But?”

Frank’s next words came with a rush. “How can you expect me to turn into a Bible-thumping, foot-stomping convert when I actually believe that some of their teachings are misguided?”

Stephan looked as though he were edging toward exasperation. “You think I like the way they rant and rage against us gays? You
actually
think I like it any more than you do? To us, homophobia may be
everything,
but it’s not everything! Besides, the churches are changing, Frank; wake up and smell the coffee. My God, the ministry attracts gays like hairstyling or interior design.”

Frank grinned mischievously. “Or antiques?”

“So the more gay people who enter the ministry and the more of us that attend these churches, well, the faster you’re going to see these needed changes happen.”

“Let’s be optimistic and say you’re right and that this more compassionate response eventually comes to pass. It’s still, as you’ve so correctly pointed out, not everything. It doesn’t even come close.”

Stephan shrugged. “Don’t let me stop you.”

“Okay, laying aside fundamental churches’ traditional hostility toward gays, I believe the way they view children is equally harmful.”

Stephan shook his head vigorously. “Oh, come on, Frank. These churches love children. They’re concerned with the entire family structure; even you ought to know that!”

“Hear me out, and then answer this question yes or no.”

“Shoot!”

“When you read what leading educators, psychiatrists, and well-known pediatricians advise us about raising children, at least on one issue they all seem to speak with a single voice—they all urge us to nurture children’s self-esteem.”

“No informed opinion would disagree with that advice, but exactly what’s your point, Frankie?”

“My point is obvious. All experts’ advice flies directly in the face of what these churches are preaching. Christian doctrine preaches that babies who are as innocent as freshly laid eggs are ‘born in original sin.’”

Frank struck the table with his fist. “Born in original sin! And you really believe that dogma like that is going to nurture self-esteem?”

“Well,” said Stephan, rubbing his pale-as-porcelain forehead. “What the experts say doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s the church position that’s wrong.”

Frank flashed a victory grin. “True, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s the church position that is correct, either.”

This time it was Stephan who turned his head to gaze thoughtfully through the glass wall up and out to the heavens above, where the moon now seemed to be playing peek-a-boo behind the ever-thickening clouds.

Reaching across the table, Frank lightly touched the back of his partner’s hand. “If I offended you, I’m sorry. Faith can give comfort and I’d never want to take that away from you. So, if you want me to attend church with you—any church, then just say the word.”

“You still don’t understand, do you?” Stephan’s voice was low and urgent at the same time. “I want you to do a hell of a lot more than attend church with me. I pray every day that you’ll come to accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior and be born again! Don’t you see? Can’t you understand? I gave up theological school but I’ve never ever given up my
faith. What I’m trying to tell you is that I must be with you. Both in this life and in the life to come.”

Chapter 17

A
S
F
RANK AND
Stephan strolled across the hotel’s front parking lot, the moon slipped out of hiding long enough to illuminate the monster resting in a pool of gasoline. This was the result, they wearily realized, of the van having hit that bone-jarring hole in the road on the way to the Majestic. Happily, the RV started easily and drove well, even though there was a ruptured gas tank. Unhappily, however, the gas tank was quickly emptying out.

By the time they reached the bottom of the mountain road where it fed onto Route 62, the men decided to bypass home and go straight to Campbell Yaw’s auto repair shop. They wouldn’t be open at this time of the night, but at least the monster wouldn’t have to be towed.

“Now,” Frank observed, “if only the fuel holds out until we reach Yaw’s.”

As the wounded RV rolled west on Route 62 toward Ratchetville, there was almost no road traffic, although the motels still had their vacancy signs lit. There’d be pretty poor pickings tonight.

“Cam Yaw’s place can’t be much farther,” explained Stephan, who was behind the wheel, to a surprisingly placid Frank. “Maybe a mile. Not much more than a mile.”