He hadn’t bolted just now, so that was a good sign. He had been honest, and said he didn’t know what he wanted. While that was hardly a declaration of love, or even interest, at least it wasn’t an outright rejection.
“Would you like to go outside? It’s such a nice night. We could sit on the deck.”
Jack stood quickly. “That’s a good idea. Yes, some fresh air would be good.” He followed Will to the kitchen and out the back door, Will carrying his snifter, Jack his coffee mug. They stood for a moment, looking up at the sky sparkling with stars. Will stared up into the clear spring night. He still wasn’t used to seeing so many stars, having grown up in the city.
“It’s like someone threw a bucket of diamonds up there. I know that’s cliché, but that’s what it looks like.”
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star,” Jack said with a grin. Will was relieved the tension between them had eased.
They sat side by side on two cushioned reclining chairs set on the edge of the deck, a small table between them. Jack leaned back and looked up, pointing. “See that? There’s Orion’s Belt, those three bright stars in a row.”
Will followed his finger, saying, “Orion the hunter and his faithful dog, Sirius. I used to think it was spelled serious, like the mood. My dad used to take me up to the roof of our apartment building on clear nights. He had this old brass telescope. I actually have it now—it’s up in the attic. I should pull it down sometime.”
“Wow, no kidding. I love stars and constellations. I used to be able to find all the famous ones and some not so famous. At least I imagined I could.” He pointed again. “See that bright kind-of-orange-colored star up to the left of the belt? That’s—”
“Beetle Juice.” Will laughed. “A nasty drink made of ground up bugs.”
Jack laughed too. “Betelgeuse—a favorite in crossword puzzles.”
They stared again at the sky, their silence now companionable. Will was glad he hadn’t done anything stupid like try to make a move back in the house. Jack was still here, and that in itself was enough. He glanced shyly over at the older man, who continued to scan the heavens. What would it be like to taste his lips?
Jack, oblivious of Will’s secret yearning, pointed upward. “Look way over there. I’m pretty sure that’s Leo the Lion, though for the life of me, I’ve never seen anything in it resembling a lion.”
Will stared at the little blob of stars he thought Jack was pointing to. He couldn’t see a thing there either, but then he never saw shapes among the stars. He always figured he lacked the imagination. Still, it was fun to find something to share with Jack, something he clearly enjoyed. “I’m glad you’re here, Jack. I’m glad we’re becoming friends.”
“I am too, Will. It’s been a long time since I’ve spent any time with anyone, except when I’m working. I guess I’ve become something of a hermit. If my little sister didn’t make me come over for Sunday dinner, I might never get out. I should be honest with you, though. I don’t really know what I’m doing here. I like you. I’ve never really known any gay guys before.”
“Yes you have.”
“Pardon?”
“You’ve known them. You just didn’t know you knew them. They didn’t let you know because they didn’t want you to judge them, or get them fired, or whatever it is they feared you might do if you found out.”
Will tried to keep the bitterness from his tone. “Sure, we live in more enlightened times than the bad old days, when a man was burned to death for his sexual orientation, or jailed for it, or beaten to death by horrified heterosexuals. Or at any rate those things are against the law now, at least in this country. But don’t fool yourself that gay men or women feel free to come out—to admit with pride they are what they are.
“It takes courage, still, to tell the world to fuck itself if it has a problem. Not everyone is accepting, as I’m sure you know. Some people still labor under the false assumption it’s something we choose, like a career or a new car. Did you choose to be straight? Did you choose to be right-handed?”
Will stopped himself. “Look, I’m sorry. I tend to get on a soapbox. You’re a really cool guy, and I appreciate you may be totally nonjudgmental and just fine about me being gay. I’m oversensitive, I guess. I don’t hide my orientation, but neither do I make it a point of flaunting it. I never took a date, for example, to any work function. I’m discreet, though sometimes it pisses me off that I have to be. And I get mad at myself that I continue to lay low, to be cool, to leave them guessing.
“Now that I’m not in that cutthroat work environment, I have less to lose. Still, I have to be careful. There are a lot of jerks out there still ready to beat me to a pulp just because of my existence. I don’t know if you can imagine what that’s like—how it colors the way you perceive the world around you.”
Jack was watching him, an earnest expression on his face. “That sounds really hard. I guess I never really thought about it in those terms. I wish things were different. If it’s any comfort, I don’t feel that way. I believe people should be free to express themselves as they truly are.”
Will nodded, knowing he should probably shut up, but now that the floodgates were open, he couldn’t. “Sometimes I think we’re all really bisexual, to one degree or another. I mean, look at girls. Girls are permitted to cuddle and kiss, to walk hand in hand and tell each other they love each other. Boys are strongly discouraged from behaving this way, but who’s to say the impulse isn’t there? I think humans seek comfort and love where they can find it, but our society discourages one sex over the other from expressing it, except in very defined, prescribed ways. I mean, think about it. Really think back. Was there ever someone you felt strongly about? A guy, I mean. Someone you might have had feelings for that seemed to go beyond what society dictated was proper?”
Jack slowly nodded. Somewhat surprised, Will went on. “I bet you squashed those feelings down. I bet you didn’t allow yourself to explore them because they were wrong. They were
inappropriate
so you shut them down, locked them away or discarded them altogether.”
“Slow down, Will. Take it easy.” Jack touched Will’s forearm. Will took a breath and let it out with a sharp, nervous laugh.
“God, I’m sorry. Just totally ignore me, will you?”
“I don’t want to ignore you. I think what you’re saying is important.” His hand was still on Will’s arm. Will looked down and, predictably, Jack pulled it away.
“Will, I’m not really sure what’s going on right now. I do know I’ve had a little too much to drink and my brain is kind of fuzzy. I was married a lot of years and I guess I haven’t really thought one way or the other about your notion of people being conditioned this way or that. I never thought of myself as gay.”
Embarrassed, Will blurted, “I never meant to imply—”
“Now hold on, relax,” Jack interrupted him. “I said I never thought of myself that way. But honestly, I’ve never thought much about my feelings, period. It’s really only since Emma died that I’ve taken the time to ruminate about weighty things like life and death and why we’re here and what we should be getting out of life. Being around you these past weeks, well…” Jack flushed and looked down. He looked up again, meeting Will’s eyes. “It’s been great. You make me feel valued for my work and even more importantly, valued as a person.
“I enjoyed working on your kitchen. It was gratifying to see you take such an active interest every step of the way. You made me see things through your eyes and remember why I do this in the first place.”
Will started to respond but Jack kept on. “I liked when you told me about your investment business, even though I didn’t really get it.” He smiled shyly. “I liked playing pool with you, even though you suck at it.” His smile broadened into a grin. “I liked eating pizza with you and watching you make coffee in that fancy machine of yours. I like the way you’re so serious and impassioned about gay rights. I like you, Will.
“I have no idea what that means in relation to us, if it means anything at all. My wife always said my tongue waggled without consulting my brain when I’d had a few too many, and I’m sure she’d say it this time too. I just kind of wanted to get all that out there, I guess. I have no idea where we go from here.”
Neither, Will realized, did he.
The moon was rising, its reflected light illuminating Jack’s features. He seemed to be waiting for Will’s response. Will could feel the underlying tension between them and wasn’t sure how much of it was sexual, how much of it brandy and wishful thinking.
When he didn’t respond immediately Jack turned his face away, again staring up at the star-filled sky. Will felt as if he’d let a pivotal moment pass but he didn’t know how to get it back. He’d been so focused on his own unrequited feelings for the older man, he hadn’t been prepared for Jack’s tumbling torrent of words.
He sipped his brandy and tried to collect his thoughts. It was pretty obvious Jack was drunk, at least drunk enough to speak so freely, to say things he might regret when sober. While Will desperately wanted to question him about what he’d said, at the same time he didn’t want to press, to embarrass him, to make him regret his uncharacteristic volubility.
I like you, Will.
Will took another sip of brandy, forbidding himself from attaching too much meaning to that simple statement. Unbidden, in his mind’s eye he saw himself lean over and take Jack into his arms. He closed his eyes, lowering his face to Jack’s for their first, perfect kiss…
The image shifted, and instead of Jack offering himself in sweet surrender, Will’s fevered imagination conjured him standing with his fist clenched and raised, delivering a sharp right that knocked Will on his ass.
Will shook his head but couldn’t quite erase the unsettling fantasy. He decided to quit while he was ahead. “Hey, it’s been a really great evening. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had a fair amount to drink and maybe neither of us is thinking as clearly as he’d like. I think it’s best if we called it a night. Do you want another cup of coffee before you drive? How far do you have to go, anyway?”
Jack was clearly nonplussed. He stood abruptly, nearly toppling the chair behind him. “I live about twenty minutes from here. As to coffee, no thanks. If I have another cup I’ll be up all night.” His voice was gruff, his face, a moment before so open and earnest, had closed.
Will felt as if someone had attached lead weights to his body. He could hardly move, overcome with the sinking feel he’d ruined everything. If only he could read Jack better. If only he had the balls to be direct, to take what he wanted, what
maybe
Jack wanted too.
Stiffly, Jack thrust out his hand. Will gripped the offered hand, wishing somehow everything he was feeling could be magically imparted through touch. He held on too long and Jack pulled away.
Trying to keep his voice light and neutral, Will said, “I had a great time, Jack. Thank you—for everything.”
“Yeah. Me too. Catch you later.”
***
Though it was well after midnight, Jack sat up in his workroom, wood shavings piled around him as he worked on the curving leg of a rocking chair he’d been building. The process of working the wood with his tools relaxed him, as it always did. It was more than an act of creation—it was a kind of meditation. He’d done some of his best thinking while working with a chisel and a lathe.
He had driven home carefully, deliberately going ten miles below the speed limit so no cop would be tempted to stop him. He could still barely believe he’d had the nerve to make that long-winded speech about how much he liked Will and liked being with him.
Even while he was blathering on, he knew he should shut up but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. What had he expected Will to say? To do? What had he hoped for? He honestly didn’t know.
He hadn’t expected Will’s rather abrupt dismissal. He felt first let down, and then humiliated and embarrassed by what seemed like a rejection, or at the very least a rebuff. Whatever strange heat he imagined had been building between them had cooled. Had it only been one-sided? Just because he’d confirmed Will was gay, had he then gone on to incorrectly assume Will was somehow interested in him?
Jack laughed bitterly. Why would a handsome young guy like that be interested in him? He’d obviously been drunker than he’d thought, and misread whatever cues Will had been sending.
He was lucky Will had nipped whatever had been going on in the bud. He’d made the right decision for them both. Whatever he was feeling, he wasn’t yet ready to confront it, especially not in front of Will.
Jack set his woodworking tools down and lay on the floor in the middle of the sawdust and wood scraps. He stared up at the ceiling, seeing a face from long ago.
His mind veered, as it had often done lately, back to that fateful night. He picked up the thread of his recollection from the week before, and realized now with a flash of clarity it was Will’s presence in his life that had rekindled the memories of Luke, even before he’d been aware of their mutual attraction.
Then, as tonight, Luke and he had both had plenty to drink. Emma and Jack were still virgins. They did engage in some heavy petting, and, though he would have been mortified to admit it, he’d come in his pants more than once while they’d kissed and fumbled beneath their clothing, parked along the side of the road in his parents’ car after a night at the movies.
That night Luke and Jack talked about girls, love, life and their futures, the beer loosening their speech and lowering their inhibitions. When Luke put his hand on Jack’s thigh it was almost like the world held its breath, waiting to see which direction Jack would take.
Jack wondered how different his life might have been if he’d rebuffed Luke. If he’d pushed him away from the start, before things went too far. Then Jack wouldn’t have had anything to prove.
But he hadn’t.
I want to explore all kinds of things.
Luke’s meaning became clear as he gently squeezed his best friend’s leg. It was late May and they were both wearing shorts. Luke’s hand on his leg was warm, his fingers stroking Jack’s skin.
Jack’s cock responded before the rest of him did as he locked eyes with the green-eyed boy who had been his best friend and closest confidant for so many years. When Luke leaned forward, parting his lips, Jack had moved forward as well.
When they kissed he’d thought his heart might actually thump right through his chest, it was beating so hard. He knew he wasn’t gay—he knew Luke wasn’t either. And yet the kiss felt so right, so good.
Unlike Emma, who kissed eagerly, almost sloppily, Luke took his time, teasing Jack with his tongue, drawing it seductively over Jack’s lips before slipping its tip between them. He held Jack’s face, cradled in his hands as he suckled and tasted Jack’s mouth.
Jack touched his lips, even now recalling the heat of that kiss. He hadn’t protested as Luke pulled at his shorts, reaching past the waistband to find his rising cock. Emma had touched him like this too, but her grip had been clumsy and unsure. Jack leaned back, telling himself they were drunk and would forget this. He let Luke fondle and massage him. It felt good. Better than good.
Luke stroked him, gently at first, and then with more friction as Jack stiffened in his hand. Within minutes he knew he was going to come. He didn’t want to ejaculate in his pants, in Luke’s hand. “Luke, stop, I’m going to—”
“I want you to,” Luke cut him off, his fingers drawing Jack past the edge of resistance. “Come on, you know you want it. We both want it. Don’t fight it. Be honest with yourself for once in your life.”
“Luke, stop…” Jack’s protest weakened as Luke tightened his grip, relentlessly pulling and stroking Jack’s stiff shaft.
All at once he came in Luke’s hand, gasping as he shuddered with release. He fell back against the sofa, trying to catch his breath. What the hell had just happened? What the goddamned hell had just happened between him and his best friend? Between him and another guy?
Now that he’d orgasmed, his reason was no longer so clouded by lust and he began to recoil in shock. Luke was watching him with narrowed eyes, his own cock still bulging in his shorts.
“Do it for me,” Luke whispered urgently. “Make me come too.” He grabbed Jack’s hand and pressed it against his erection. Jack pulled it away. He didn’t feel drunk anymore. He felt ashamed.
“Luke,
no
. I can’t.”
“Sure you can. It’s easy. Come on. I did you. Do me. There’s nothing wrong with it. There’s nothing wrong with the way we feel about each other.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.
We
don’t feel any way about each other. We’re friends. Buddies. That’s all we’ve ever been. I don’t know what the hell just happened but it sure wasn’t something
I
planned.”
Luke held his a gaze a moment and then looked sharply away, his face flushing crimson. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You didn’t seem to mind so much when my hand was on your dick.” His voice came out a sneer though even then Jack knew it was to hide the pain of his rejection. Hotly, he continued, “You’re in denial, Jack. You’ve always been in denial about us. I thought once we were older, especially now that we’re about to get the fuck out of this town, we could be honest with each other and with ourselves. I guess I was stupid to think that. You’re as repressed and hung up as all the other assholes.”
Deeply stung, Jack retorted, “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. We’re both dating girls. Now suddenly we’re supposed to be gay lovers? I don’t think so.”
“Get out. Go. Just leave me alone.” Luke’s voice was hard, his eyes bright with unshed tears. Jack knew at that moment they could never be friends again. With a heavy heart and a confused mind he left Luke’s house.
He never told anyone what happened.
The next night he’d gone all the way with Emma, mostly, he knew now, to prove to himself he was straight. Unfortunately, though he’d pulled out and she’d assured him it was the wrong time of the month, once was enough to get her pregnant.
The course of his life was set in that instant. He did the right thing, or what had seemed like the right thing at the time.
Luke avoided him the last month of school and left for Europe after his last exam, not even staying for graduation. That was the last he’d seen of him.
He managed to put Luke from his mind, blotting out the entire incident for days at a time. He was straight, he was getting married, he was going to be a father. As his own father crudely pointed out to him when he’d confessed Emma was pregnant, he’d made his choice with his dick and now he’d pay the price for the rest of his life.
Jack had been raised to believe men were strong. They handled what life hurled at them with stoicism and fortitude. Whatever came their way, they sucked it up and dealt with it. Feelings didn’t enter into it. Real men were never prey to fear or anxiety. Nor did they have desires, longings, passions or needs.
What a crock of shit that had turned out to be. What a lie. It took raising his own boys to realize just how stultifying and stunting such a macho attitude could be. At least with his sons, he’d encouraged them to express themselves honestly. He never told them big boys don’t cry, as his parents had drilled into him when he was little, defenseless and scared.
Jack inhaled the sweet scent of sawdust and sighed. A single tear trickled down his cheek. Yes, he’d paid the price for that one night. He’d paid it a thousand times over. Yet it hadn’t been a bad life. They’d raised two wonderful sons. Emma and he had been happy in their way. No, there had never been fireworks. His heart had never pounded as it had when Luke had kissed him. But he’d done the right thing.
Only now things were different, weren’t they? He no longer had children to support, a wife to be faithful to. He was a free man. His own man. He could do what he wanted, as long as he was discreet.
Was he ready at last to explore the potential Luke had tried to offer him so long ago? Could he find the courage to let himself be vulnerable with another man?
Was Will that man?
Slowly he sat up and wiped the tear from his cheek. He ran his fingers through his thick hair and sighed. He had no idea what to do next.
“When you don’t know what to do,” his mother was fond of saying, “do nothing at all.” That seemed like sound advice at the moment. He’d go to sleep and when he woke maybe things would be clearer.
***
Will awoke with a start, his body jerking in response to a half-remembered dream. He was sitting in his living room, an empty brandy glass still clutched in one hand. After he sent Jack away he’d proceeded to pour himself way too much brandy and drink it all, cursing himself all the while.
I had him. He was reaching out to me. And I rebuffed him. I sent him home like we were characters in some stupid romantic comedy from the fifties. Doris Day and Rock Hudson.
Now he’ll go home, sober up and thank God he got out of that one. I’ll never hear from him again. I’m such a fucking idiot.
Will sighed and pressed his hands to his head, which was throbbing dully. Wearily he stood and made his way to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water from the new faucet Jack had helped him pick out and stood silently admiring the space.
Jack was more than a handyman, more than a carpenter. He was an artist. The room was elegant, functional and pleasing to the eye. One would never have looked at the burly, masculine Jack and assumed he was capable of such artistry. Will realized he was holding on to a stereotype in reverse—assuming a straight man like Jack wouldn’t be capable of creating something beautiful.