One for the Gods (The Peter & Charlie Trilogy) (32 page)

After all the days in open sea, Charlie expected this landlocked sail to be a let-down, but he had not yet learned to reckon with these waters. The Gulf of Corinth opened out majestically as they advanced into it, contained by high distant peaks that still bore traces of snow. No land was visible ahead of them. Within an hour, a southwesterly wind had risen and continued to stiffen all through the morning. A heavy sea began to roll in behind them. They were getting the wind very nearly on their beam, ideal for sailing, and Charlie trimmed the sheets for maximum speed. The sea was coming from a slightly different quarter, lifting them and sending them hurtling into deepening troughs, but Peter skillfully held
Cassandra
steady, and they were taking on very little water. Charlie went careening aft and dropped beside Peter at the wheel. They beamed at each other.

“How about this for racing?” Charlie demanded. “It’s the best yet.”

“It’s like riding a bucking bronco.”

“You’re doing beautifully, baby. Let me take over for a while. Give your hands a rest.”

“I don’t need to, but help yourself.”

They shifted on the seat and Charlie took the wheel. Peter put his arm around him and held him as he had been held by Charlie so often in the last couple of weeks. He felt very daring for a moment, but there was none of the stiffening in Charlie that he was accustomed to when he made a move toward him in public.

“How about us last night?” Peter laughed without letting his lips move. “I guess Jack saw us.”

“Sure. So what?”

“You’re making me so damn proud.” He could talk about it now. Charlie’s altered behavior no longer seemed a fluke, an erratic aftermath to Jean-Claude but a new, fixed pattern he could count on. They could talk about it and make it their own. “You know I’ve always wanted it like this, people taking us for what we are—a couple, lovers—married, goddamn it.”

“It’s about time you have it the way you want it. Just wait—Good God! Hold onto your hat. Here comes a big one.”

Peter had time to glance astern at what appeared to be a wall of water rising above them and then they were lifted giddily and held for a breathtaking moment before they rushed like a surf-board down the side of the wave. Charlie spun the wheel one way and then the other to hold his course. Their downward plunge stopped with a jolt and the bow lifted, scooping up sea and sending it hurtling back along the deck. There was a crash below.

“Is this going to be as bad as the first night?” Peter asked.

Charlie looked around at the crystalline sky and the sparkling, white-capped sea and shook his head. “This isn’t a storm. It’s just a good blow. It’s amazing the sea can get so big in here. The wind’s actually letting up a bit.”

Jack came struggling up the companionway and stood braced against the cabin housing. “Hadn’t we better get some of this sail down?” he called.

“Are you nuts? We’re really moving.”

“I don’t like heeling this much.”

“Boats are meant to heel, Jack. Do you want to turn on the motor?”

“At the rate we’re going, we’ll be at the canal just after dark.”

“Anything wrong with that?”

“I’ve heard it’s difficult to spot. You know I don’t like being in against unfamiliar land at night.”

“I’ve checked the pilot book. Lights will make it easier to find. The wind’s not going to hold much longer, anyway.”

“If you say so.”

Jack lingered a little longer and then went below again. Peter realized that he was still holding Charlie.

Martha brought them food, looking worried. “Is everything all right?” she asked.

“Everything’s perfect, except that it’s not going to last much longer,” Charlie assured her.

Her expression immediately cleared. Relieved of anxiety, she realized what had caused the little wave of distaste she had felt when she had joined them: for the first time, Peter had been holding Charlie. It struck her as inappropriate; it diminished Charlie’s masculinity. She was glad the food gave Peter something else to do with his hands. She sat with them, wearing the bikini that always made Charlie want to undress her so that he could really study her body. Peter made them laugh at his efforts to eat without hurting his mouth.

The sun was moving down in the west when, as Charlie had expected, the wind began to die. Low-lying land was dimly visible ahead. The sea remained heavy so that they rolled and tossed as progress ceased. Jack came up for a turn on the wheel and Charlie sent Peter below for a nap.

“I suppose you know where we are,” he said to Jack.

Jack checked the mileage log and looked ahead. “About fifteen miles west of the canal.”

“So near and yet so far. Listen Jack, just once, couldn’t we use the goddamn engine? This almost qualifies as getting into harbor. A couple of hours on the motor would get us there. Otherwise, we won’t get through till morning. It’s going to be hell wallowing around out here.”

“The sea’s bound to calm down soon. Just hold your horses. I’ve been planning to go through in the morning all along.”

“Jesus! We have to waste twelve hours just so you can follow your plan?”

“That’s about it. I know it’s hard for you to accept, but this is my boat and when it comes to the motor we do things my way.”

“Even when it’s the wrong way. God! Wanting to shorten sail the one time we’re really zooming.”

“I didn’t insist, but there are certain things I will insist about. While we’re on the subject, I won’t have the boat turned into a male brothel. Stay out of Peter’s bunk.”

“Brothel?” Charlie repeated calmly. “Do you think we pay each other? What’s the matter, Jack? You jealous? Why don’t you offer Peter money? I’d love to see what’s left of you afterward.”

“Just remember. I’ve warned you.”

“I see. Well then, let me tell you this. I’ll sleep with Peter whenever I damn well please. I’ve given it some thought and I’ve decided that whatever Peter and I do together can’t hurt anybody else.”

“Good lord, man, haven’t you any sense of decency?”

“Does it really upset you so to see two guys sleeping together? Maybe you should see a doctor.”

“What if I’d come through when you weren’t sleeping?”

“Do you think we’d let you see us making love? It’s too good for any audience.”

“Don’t you care what Martha thinks of you?”

“Why don’t you ask her what she thinks of us? OK? If you get us to hotels in the evening the way you said you would, it won’t be a problem. The bunk’s too narrow to make it a habit, anyway, but any time I want to sleep with my mate, I will. Understood?”

“Christ! You really think you’re God, don’t you?”

“No, just a guy who’s learning to get along in the world. You’re the one who made a big thing about my being queer. Well, now you’ve seen me in bed with Peter. God forbid you shouldn’t be able to fit all the little pegs into all the little holes in your mind.”

“I think we’ve had about enough of this conversation.”

“Fine. I accept your apology for the brothel bit. If you’re not going to be a good sport and turn on the motor, I might as well get some sleep. Alone, in case you’re consumed by curiosity.” He smiled cheerfully and rose and careened across the deck to the campanionway.

They were all on deck at daybreak for their passage, under power, through the long, straight, awesome ditch of the canal. By noon, they were tying up in Turkolimino, the yacht harbor near Piraeus. Jack’s navigation had paid off; they had sailed right up to the entrance to the canal even though it was still invisible when they were only a couple of miles from it; they found the small yacht harbor before Charlie had been able to pick out the great port of Piraeus in the jumble of steep, built-up coastline. He had expected the Acropolis to be a conspicuous landmark. He could find no trace of it.

They were still furling the sails and making the deck shipshape when they received a ceremonial visit from officials who seemed little interested in the ship’s papers but wished to underline the fact that they were the first American yacht in Greek waters since the war. A delegate from the Royal Yacht Club appeared to offer them free use of the club’s facilities during their stay. Jack was beaming. Because the formalities were short, nothing prevented Charlie and Peter from ducking below to dress, put some clothes in a bag and gather up a considerable accumulation of laundry. When they returned to the deck, Martha and Jack were waiting in the cockpit with drinks. They all drank and congratulated themselves on their successful voyage. They were to have two days of independent sight-seeing before setting off into the Aegean. Martha looked at Charlie so longingly that he agreed to come down to the boat at noon the next day and perhaps go on an excursion with the Kingsleys. Peter unabashedly took his hand.

“Come on, Champ. I’m going to spend all afternoon in a tub.”

After extensive farewells, Charlie and Peter went ashore and found a battered taxi and told the driver to take them to Athens. Saying the word made a tingle run down Charlie’s spine. He crouched forward at the window, buffeted by blasts of hot air as they clattered over a corrugated road, and continued his search for the Acropolis. When he saw it at last, the Parthenon lying parched and serene on a low hill, he experienced a shock of recognition, as if he had known it always. He sat back and gripped Peter’s hand.

“My God!” he exclaimed. “There it is. This trip’s really making sense.”

“I’ll say. We’re home. These people knew what life was all about. Men loved each other and women had children. If things were like that nowadays, even I might be straight.” He still couldn’t move his lips when he laughed.

As soon as they were alone in a big old-fashioned room in the Grande Bretagne, Peter began to shed his clothes.

“I’m going to spend an hour in the bathroom. Let’s order some lunch up here. After that—well, guess what. How marvelous of you to ask for a double bed.”

Charlie hadn’t exactly asked. The clerk had offered them the choice of. twin beds or a double and Charlie had said that a double would do. When he was naked, Peter darted over to him and gave him a quick hug.

“Damn my mouth. Consider yourself kissed,” he said and went frisking on into the bathroom. Charlie called down for cold lobster and a salad and cold white wine. He went to a long shuttered window and peered out. The Parthenon was there under a blazing sun, the ruin of it looking as if it had been planned with great precision. They were in Athens and they were approaching a moment that he felt he had been preparing for, unconsciously at first, ever since St. Tropez.

An electric fan on the bureau stirred the still air. He stood in its draft and thoughtfully began to remove his clothes. He had closely observed Peter’s every move for the last two days and he had sensed in him a new, hardy self-assertiveness that he related to the episode with Jean-Claude. That hadn’t been an isolated phenomenon, but the expression of a healthy, emerging need. The fight had solidified it. Something in Peter was struggling free of the domination he had sought from Charlie all these years. The way Peter had told him to order lunch was a detail, but symptomatic. A few weeks ago he would have asked if they could have it in the room. Charlie knew he could use his body to widen Peter’s freedom, and perhaps his own. He didn’t know where this was leading, but he felt sure that it would pave the way for even more crucial developments. Now that the moment was near, he looked forward to it with more excitement than he had expected. He chuckled to himself. What would he be up to next?

He put on a dressing gown and, when the knock on the door came, admitted their lunch. He was tempted to join Peter in the bathroom, but resisted it. Things might happen and he didn’t want his plan disrupted. He twirled the wine in the ice bucket and waited.

Peter came out eventually, wearing a towel around his waist. His hair was darkened by water and slicked down. His eye and mouth were no longer disfiguring but curiously provocative, a blemish that underlined his beauty.

“I’m just about the cleanest friend you’ll ever have,” he announced. “Hey. Lunch. Lobster. Marvelous.”

Charlie went to him and removed the towel and kissed his neck and ran his hands over his cool skin. “I won’t be long,” he said.

“No, don’t be, beautiful. I feel as if it’s been months.”

Charlie shaved and took a quick shower and returned, wearing his dressing gown. Peter was stretched out on the bed wearing his. He sprang up.

“Bed is sublime. That poor lobster doesn’t know how close he’s come to being completely ignored.”

They sat at table and ate and laughed together. Peter’s eyes flirted as if they’d just met. Charlie had stopped thinking about his plan; he quite simply wanted him, in exactly the way he had been intending to have him. No wonder everybody’s been tearing him to pieces, he thought.

“We’re not going to order coffee, are we?” Peter asked when they had picked the lobster clean.

“Not unless we let the waiter serve us in bed.”

Peter flashed him a lopsided smile. “I’m about ten times more in love with you than I’ve ever been. I didn’t think it was possible. I’ll go get ready.”

Charlie put a hand over his. “No. I will. It’s my turn, baby.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that. I want you that way.”

“You what?” Peter looked thunderstruck.