Making Me Go, Making Me Stay

Kevin rolled the shades down in his living room, each of the thirteen individual panels. He picked up his keys, tied his pullover around his waist, and grabbed his two suitcases as he headed for the door.

He was heading back on the road. São Paulo, then Buenos Aires and shortly after, San Salvador.

As he toddled out his door and into the hallway, his cell phone began to vibrate in his pocket. It was another call from "Unavailable" -- which, of course, could be one of many people in his life whose calls he had to take.

"Hello?"

"Kev."

"Roy."

"Have you left the house yet?"

"I am in the doorway. I've got a taxi waiting."

"I'm two blocks away with my car. Give the cabbie five bucks and let me take you."

"Which phone are you using? It's coming up weird..."

"It's a work cell. It's used sometimes by the boss, he doesn't allow any of them to show up."

"Ah, ok..."

Kevin got rid of the cab downstairs, and within a few minutes, Roy pulled up in his new car.

"Wow, I need to be your best friend, Roy..."

(laughing) "Like it?"

"It's nice! Congratulations."

"Yes, I can't get out of it. I'm hooked..."

"Hey, I ain't complaining..."

They headed down 14th Street and crossed the Potomac River, heading for Route 66 and the Dulles toll road. Roy was wearing a nice set of khakis, and had red rimmed eyes.

"So what do I owe this honor?" (Kevin - clearly Roy wanted to talk.)

"Well..."

Roy had been rehearsing this in his mind all day. He hadn't spoken to Ken about it yet, and since Ken was working late again that night and hadn't called him all day, he was going to be telling Kevin. He needed to tell someone.

"I'm going on the meds. My counts are bad."

"Really? What does bad mean?"

"Well, lower than they should be. But, I mean, I was going to do it anyway, right? So..."

"So..."

"Yeah..."

"Cool, when, uh...When do you start?"

"I have the prescription in my wallet. I gotta go to CVS and turn it in."

"What kind of regimen is it?"

"It's two different things. It's actually simpler than I thought it was going to be. But, you know..."

"Good...what?"

"Well, they said I might get sick and if so, they'll change it to another one..."

"Ah OK, well you're a healthy guy, Roy. You eat well, you do yoga. You'll probably know it's not good long before most people."

"Well..."

Kevin didn't talk nervously to fill the awkward pause. He rarely did. It was what Roy liked most about him. He just looked around at traffic and things, waiting for Roy to pull his thoughts together.

"If I get sick, I am pretty sure things are gonna go south with Ken."

"Why?"

"Well..."

(long pause)

"He started pulling away not too long ago. He's sort of not there even when he's there. He will be on the couch, and he'll just read a magazine or something rather than talk to me. He stopped making eye contact. Stuff like that."

"Do you guys talk about it? Have you brought it up?"

"Honestly, Kevin, I think the slightest sign of neediness and he will walk out the door."

"Well...not a good foundation for a relationship, is it?"

"But he pursued me, Kevin. He came after me. What the hell is this?"

"Uh..." (Kevin wasn't sure if now was the time to say it. The thing that everyone wanted to say since the beginning. Ken was not suited for a relationship with anyone, especially not someone like Roy. Run, Roy....Run for the nearest shelter....That's what he needed to say at this important moment.)

"I mean," (Roy) "we go in for HIV tests. He's certain he's gonna die. I turn out to have it and he's fine. He comes after me. I take the bait. Then he just pulls away?"

"How do you know it has anything to do with HIV, Roy?"

"Come on. I have a hard time believing that..."

"I know it's a lot to deal with, but everything does not have to do with your HIV status..."

Roy bit down hard. He didn't want to hear that. But he didn't react.

"...You know, I think Ken has a lot more going on in his head, you know. A lot of issues. That's pretty obvious."

"We all do."

"Yeah, but he's not even out of the closet, Roy."

"He says he is..."

"...As a bisexual, right? That's a crock of shit."

"Not to him, it isn't."

"Oh please, there is no such thing."

"He doesn't think so, seriously..."

"Well..." (Kevin bit down hard. He didn't want to argue with Roy, so he didn't react.)

*****

John looked out his window to see if the mail truck was pulling in or pulling out of the loading dock.

And he saw Gail walking up the driveway to the entrance.

She was in her United uniform, pulling a crew bag and smoking a cigarette. She was alone.

Her hair was shorter, and she was tanned. She stood outside the door of the building as she hadn't finished the cigarette yet. Then, she pulled out her cell phone as if it had been ringing. She talked for a moment, looked at her watch and threw the cigarette away.

*****

The phones were ringing off the hook that afternoon, and Madison was keeping apace.

Jeff wasn't in the office. There were enough client appointments that day to keep them out of contact, and she was filling up his book for the next two days.

She tried to forget about the email she'd deleted from Anthony. It was like an old episode of a show on her TiVo -- a repeat -- that she'd finally deleted. Making room for new stuff. Or newer stuff at least.

And yet, since the system had already detected that she had a taste for this kind of thing, it was likely that this old deleted episode would just get recorded again in the next couple of months anyway.

*****

Kevin moved quickly through security once he got to the screening area, and headed toward the gate as the flight was going to board soon anyway.

He was running through the ride out with Roy in his head. It wasn't an easy conversation. He'd always thought Ken wasn't going to last. It was clear that he was pulling away back on that Sunday afternoon Kevin hosted brunch for them and Sean and Madison. Ken kept reading Kevin's old copies of Wallpaper magazine and petting the dog, never joining in the conversations.

Of course, jumping in when Kevin, Madison and Sean are on a roll is never easy. But they sensed that Roy was also holding back, not being his usual self. Almost like he was correcting for Ken, so that Ken wouldn't feel so completely awkward in his silence.

But Ken didn't even seem to care, in his usual way. He just was on his own plane. Always.

Kevin fumbled for his passport as he reached the gate. He remembered the good part of his advice.

"I know it's easier said than done, but stop focusing so much on the HIV, Roy. Really. I don't think it's as much of a factor as you do," he'd said.

"I think I'd be naive to think it wasn't."

"But you are also naturally self-conscious about it, and nothing Ken says will do much about that will it?"

No reply from Roy.

"Give it some thought. And also remember that a relationship is about communication, not about silence."

Kevin's timing was excellent, as they were just opening the door to Gate 7 as he stepped up, and he walked straight to the front of the line for the first boarding group. He handed the agent his boarding pass, walked down the jet way with his stub, past the Duty Free attendant and the pile of plastic bags stapled shut. And he walked right onto the plane and into row 6, where he was able to commandeer the overhead bin over 6A and get all his hand luggage in the way he wanted it arranged.

Then came, of course, the long wait.

It was entertaining, though, to watch Flight 861 board. The first ones usually filled the First and forward Business cabins quickly, and he'd get a sense of who he was going to be spending the evening among fairly quickly. There were usually one or two familiar faces. A largely elderly cabin crew, most of the time chipper if a bit clueless.

An attractive man -- probably Brazilian -- ended up sitting behind him and smiled as he passed.

Then the economy passengers began filing on. They were usually either young, good looking guys, or older women. And almost all of them were usually Brazilian. It was fun to make eye contact with them all. Especially the cute ones.

But this particular evening, Kevin was tired. He took off his shoes, put on the sleep socks, and sipped orange juice while he read the latest Economist. His eyes got heavy fast. He'd been sleeping badly the last couple of days. A lot of work was on lately, and a lot was waiting down south.

In not too much time, he leaned back and shut his eyes for a moment.

He started to think about the last trip down. He was still with Dane back then. He'd chat with him online every night while on the road. Would he see Dane online this time? He'd also fumbled with his cell phone in the mobile lounge on the way over to Terminal C. Would he call Dane this time before departing? And then there was the boarding card. He was still putting Dane as his emergency contact. He'd always have to run through the scenario --- the plane would crash, the airline would find his card in the stack from the gate agent, and Kevin imagined how each of his closest friends would take the news. It was still Dane's job, in his mind. Mostly because Dane knew who he'd have to tell, and would probably be very good at it. Very even and mild, very in control.

And Kevin started to run the images of the plane crashing together with his trip with Dane to Buenos Aires a year earlier. And the last trip Kevin had made abroad as a single man. And the orange light of fires around him were flashing like a mirror ball. Sean and Roy and Sasha and Filip were with him, and so was Matt. The music had stopped all of a sudden, and everyone had lost their shirts but they looked dazed.

And Kevin felt tears welling up in his eyes. In the dream.

"Please put your seat back up right?"

Kevin felt someone gently taking the magazine out of his hands and guiding his seat back upward. Along with it was a scent of some kind. A familiar one. It was the smell of spearmint gum.

He opened his eyes, and there sitting in 6B was Elaine.

"Hi there, stranger," she said, fastening her own seat belt after doing his.

He wasn't sure if he was awake or not. "E?"

"Miss me?"

"Wow, are you coming down?"

"I heard you were on this flight, so I switched it to today, and this seat was open, so..."

"How cool..." (Kevin leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.)

"Do you mind?"

(laughs) "Why would I mind?"

"Well, I heard from Rodrigo and Helder that you were going to do some outings tomorrow and Saturday before the work week began...I didn't want to cramp your style or anything, now that you're single again..."

"Cramp my style? Honey...this is a really nice surprise. I'm glad you're coming."

"I got my own room at Emiliano."

"Even better."

They both leaned in and laughed. Elaine smiled widely. She looked really pretty that night.

 

[Posted: November 7, 2005] FEEDBACK PERMALINK

 

Get the Action Going

The Jet Ranger tore off from the helipad and soared out of the low mist, hitting its altitude in fifteen seconds. Elaine nudged Kevin with her umbrella and pointed out the left side toward the prison quickly passing them by.

Then she pointed at him.

The noise inside the cabin was too loud for either of them to talk, and the usual intercom talk system inside their noise-reduction headsets wasn't working that morning. But he knew what she meant.

He rolled his eyes.

They followed the snaking marginal along the Rio Tieté for a short while before turning to the left and lurching straight into the wide expanse of skyscrapers rising out of the ground dead ahead. And the low-lying clouds parted in front of them, with the Terraço Italia going by, along with all of the faded old downtown area that never merited a visit anymore. So much longer ago, more than twenty years, it was where everything was expected to happen in the tiny, tight-fisted world of business in São Paulo. But that was a long-gone world, where a teenaged Kevin would exchange his dollars at a respectable black marketeer's back office (respectable only in how loosely the gentleman handled his loaded gun during every transaction). Where a couple of well-connected families ran everything, and the best and brightest learned English and got the hell out fast.

But now, for the seventh, eighth or ninth time in a year, Kevin was racing high above the ruins of the old downtown and heading toward the transformed heart of everything in the new city, and the new country. In his new life.

In a new world.

Elaine reassembled her purse - passport, exit document, pen, lip balm all removed and tossed into her carry-on; money, sunglasses, lipstick, perfume and Sidekick all transplanted in their place. She pulled off her scarf and tied it behind her ears to hold her hair in place as the helicopter began to drop from its height once it crossed Avenida Paulista and sank down into the canyon of high-rises jammed together in Jardins.

Kevin sat up straight.

As they approached the sky-blue roof of Emiliano, two of the usual coterie of staff stood on the diagonal line near the stairs and waited for the landing bars to touchdown. In a flash, they settled on the giant cross, seat belts were unlatched, the side door was opened and Kevin and Elaine slipped out onto the misty roof as their bags were pulled out of the side and all was whisked down the stairs and into the foyer of the heliponto just as the Jet Ranger lifted off again and disappeared.

This time, it was Tais who welcomed them both. She had an envelope for Kevin. He stuffed it into his jacket pocket. He knew what it was.

"How was your flight from Washington last night?" Tais asked in a lightly accented English.

"It was just fine, thanks." (Kevin)

"Has it been raining much?" (Elaine)

"Yes, unfortunately it has been very cloudy and some rain for a few days now."

"Any odds on the weather this weekend?" (Kevin)

"I'm afraid it is supposed to continue as this, I saw in the paper today." (Tais, who smiled and winced at the same time, as if to apologize for champagne being warm.)

"Well, I supposed we'll survive." (Elaine, wanly.)

Tais took them to the lobby and they both checked in. Kevin was hoping for an upgrade, but didn't get it. He was in his usual 802. Every time he got 802 he'd think about carving his name in the desk drawer or something, like his freshman dorm room. He already knew the room so intimately: the blackout curtain was a little frayed along the right side; the sound system didn't always work perfectly; the closet was the perfect size and placement in the room; and the view was just high enough to be private, but just low enough to hear the dogs barking joyfully as they played on late afternoons in the private parking alleys between Oscar Freire and Alameda Lorena.

Elaine just paid for the suite. She requested 801, and got it. Indeed - she'd ankled her way into everything next to Kevin so far on the trip without him even knowing about it. But, as with everything regarding Elaine, he wasn't surprised and didn't bother asking how she did it. Whether it was her wiles - or just simply the power of money - it didn't matter to him. Some things just weren't meant to be explained.

Tais took them up together. Elaine gave her a nice tip and shot into her room unaccompanied, the door shutting abruptly behind her. Kevin went through his usual routine, chatting with the staff about what was going on in town, getting some of the buzz, waiting for his bags to arrive so he could open them all, sort out what needed to be immediately sent down to the laundry, count how many hangers he'd need for his closet (he would hang up nearly everything, except shoes, socks and underwear), make sure he had an extra towel (they'd place 2, he always wanted 3 - this time, there were 3); and then he'd immediately start putting things away as he thanked Tais and sent her on her way.

Kevin then took out the envelope in his jacket pocket, and opened it. Inside was a note, wrapped around three VIP tickets to the Kristine W. show the next evening at The Week:

Welcome back, amor ;-)
Espero que vc tinha uma boa viagem, e tenha um bom dia hoje.
Me liga quando vc pode.

Bjo.

 

******

Elaine splashed water on her face and left the bathroom as the doorbell rang. Her bags were up.

She asked the bellman, in not-so-bad Portuguese, to unpack for her. She hated unpacking. Just getting from Washington to any city so far away was always such an ordeal of mental logistics for her, despite how good she was at it. It was taxing. And in her mind, it didn't matter a damn where her clothes would hang, or in what order, or for how long. She'd already invested her energy in finding the right things to travel with, and she almost always went out and bought at least a quarter of her wardrobe on any given trip anyway. Couture never interested her. "Ready to wear" was her philosophy of life.

As the bellman and the soon-to-arrive waiter, carrying a pot of coffee she'd pre-ordered, tore into her bags and started assembling her closet and vanity table for her, Elaine kicked off her shoes, sat on the couch in the living room and opened her Sidekick. It always took a good three or four minutes to get it moving in Brazil. She never had any idea which service it was going to connect to this time. And with São Paulo being ten times more congested than Rio, it was sometimes even money whether it would connect at all for hours.

But it finally got online, and she speed-dialed Rodrigo as planned.

"Oie, tudo bom?" (Elaine)

"Elaine?"

"Sou eu. Cheguei agora."

"A-é? Beleza!"

"So, how are you?"

"I'm good. I'm tired, but I'm good."

"Why tired?"

"Well, I am just coming home from Kiko's house a little bit ago…" (his voice was drawn) "…and I am getting into bed after a shower…"

"Oh really?"

"Yes, we were at Ultra until about six and we came back here to listen to music, and Zé and I were talking about what we were going to do for New Year's Eve this year and we were talking and talking…"

"I'm sure you were, querido…" (giggling)

"Yes, it was a nice time. … So…"

"So…"

"Well, I have your tickets for tomorrow night…"

"Ahh, fabulous."

"And I think maybe I should just call you tonight and we can have a drink at Skye or something and make a plan. Is that good?" (He was reverting to an almost adolescent, high-pitched, wispy voice as he faded.)

"That would be lovely. Just call me or send me an SMS later, okay?"(Elaine)

"Oh-kay…"

"Dorme bem, queridinhu. Beijo grande…"

"Beijo. I'm happy you're here. Welcome back…"

"Thanks, baby…"

*****

From: Sean [mailto:sean@clubwhirled.com]
Sent: Thursday, October 20, 2005 9:33 AM
To: Roy
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Dinner Monday?

Hmm. I'm not sure what would constitute crazy in your book. You know I am happy for you, if you are happy. I'm not a close friend of Ken's, even though we have a bit of a history I still don't know him anywhere as well as I know you. You don't seem happy.

Are you?

S.

ps I understand about Elaine. I've stopped inviting her to things because I got tired of her never responding.

---------- Original Message ----------------------------------
>From: Roy [mailto:royboi68@aol.com]
>Date: Thu, 20 Oct 2005 09:26:51 -0500

>OK cool -- that'll be good if I can swing it :)
>
>
>Life is ok. I miss Elaine. She disappeared again, and doesn't
>return emails or calls anymore. I'm getting really hurt >feelings.
>I'd also like yr reaction to Ken. I promise he won't be >socially rude.
>Actually, he'll just be completely withdrawn. Hmm maybe im >just asking
>if u think I'm crazy for being with him.
>
>
>
>>-----Original Message-----
>>From: Sean [mailto:sean@clubwhirled.com]
>>Sent: Thursday, October 20, 2005 9:19 AM
>>To: Roy
>>Subject: RE: RE: Dinner Monday?
>>
>>Don't tell anyone this... but our reservation's actually for >>9:00.
>>Turns out they stop taking reservations after 6:30 and don't >>start
>>again until 9. I figure people will show up at 8:45 anyway, >>and then
>>we'll mill around at the bar chatting. So if you want to >>swing by your
>>place and change, feel free.
>>
>>How's life?
>>
>>S.
>>
>>>---------- Original Message ------------------------------->>>---
>>>From: Roy [mailto:royboi68@aol.com]
>>>Date: Thu, 20 Oct 2005 09:13:14 -0500
>>>
>>>Absolutely! I have a work event on the Hill from 6-8 so 830 >>>is perfect!
>>>I will, however, be coming in a suit so I insist everyone >>>else dress
>>>up to make me feel more comfortable. Hehe (I keed,
>>>I keed because I loooove...)
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>>-----Original Message-----
>>>>From: Sean[mailto:sean@clubwhirled.com]
>>>>Sent: Wednesday, October 19, 2005 6:58 AM
>>>>To: John; Kevin; dane; David; Lulu; Brandon; Dirty; Chuck; >>>>Roy; Ken
>>>>Subject: Dinner Monday?
>>>>
>>>>Hey there,
>>>>
>>>>As most of you know, I'm heading down to Miami this >>>>weekend to hang
>>>>out with this great guy I met in FLL a couple months ago. >>>>We're flying up to DC together Monday afternoon, and he'll >>>>be here for work for a couple days.
>>>>
>>>>So, I thought it'd be fun to go out to dinner next Monday >>>>night and maybe grab a quick cocktail at Halo afterwards, >>>>so that he can meet a few
>>>>of my friends while he's in town. I'm thinking of dinner
>>>>at 8:30 at Logan Tavern. Who's up for it?
>>
>>>C'ya!
>>>Sean
>>
>
>

[Posted: November 13, 2005] FEEDBACK PERMALINK

 

People Burn, Ignite Me

Ken was reading the newspaper at his desk.

It was late on a Friday afternoon, and the week was over. He wasn't in a hurry to go anywhere right away. In fact, he wasn't jittery at all, by any means.

Then, the zap hit him in between glancing at the horoscopes and shifting in his seat. For a flash instant: it hit him and all at once was gone again.

He was HIV-negative.

It was like a puff of air after being held under water for as long as one could bear -- that feeling. It came in tiny bursts now and then. And in those little moments, he felt liberated and free. No more nights of feeling like he was almost out of his body as he'd be laying on his back, legs in the air, in some back seat of a car, or in some ugly kid's college dorm room -- his head throbbing from the agony of wanting more cocaine, and seeing all the numbers from the three and four and five ATM withdrawal receipts in one night, all of them going down and down and down, and laundry strewn around on his floor at home, and bills unopened, voicemails not picked up. It was all gone, like a flushed toilet. Disappeared. It made him feel strong and renewed. And even a little turned on. Ready to go out there with a burst of intense confidence, ready to conquer anything and anyone.

And then he'd think about Roy - the things he'd said to Roy over the summer, the deep, long looks they would send into each other's eyes, letting each other think whatever they wanted to without words. Mending all the soldered and mangled ends inside him, doing whatever it took, instinctively letting go of all feelings to flush down the bad ones with everything else -- clean flush. All the while knowing Roy would think whatever he wanted, putting Ken in all sorts of positions in his mind. Sexual, emotional, it didn't matter. It was a new form of complete surrender, one that didn't involve anonymity or death. But just as familiar. He also would look at Roy and pretend he wasn't HIV-positive. He'd think about how far he could push him in all sorts of ways. To do things for him like making toast in the morning. Or backing off from the emotionality of everything simply by ignoring him when they were alone in the same room. And in bed, Ken knew how to get him intensely aroused -- and then would play around to see how far he could get inside Roy before he said to stop and put on a condom. All at once, Ken saw the threat, the boredom, the way in which the thing with Roy was holding him back -- and then saw how useful it was, keeping him off the internet and off the street, keeping him amused, cared for, loved even. And how whatever Roy turned Ken into in his mind, it was working out so well for them. And this was probably the big punchline behind all relationships.

One instant. As his eyes lulled past the pages of the Style section. At 5:30pm on a Friday afternoon in October, in Washington. At his desk.

It came, and it went. And he turned the page.

*****

Helder, Rafael and Kevin were lined up against the window of Cristallo, and Elaine was across the little cafe table, leaning forward on her elbow and smiling.

The sun was bright and low, warm and rustling over the street. The foot traffic was picking up substantially. Early Friday evening in the spring -- it was in the air around them. The same kind of electricity that came out of a bottomless well of excitement anywhere in the world outside of Washington, it seemed.

Elaine had just said something really funny in Portuguese, yet again surprising them all - including Kevin - at how fast she'd picked up the language. And as they were all laughing -- all three boys lined up and laughing -- it hit Elaine in a flash, like a shock from touching a door knob in winter. That moment of sudden comfort and joy, a sort of spike, when it all comes together -- everyone is there, everyone is chill, everyone is happy at the same level, all at the same moment, and everything is worth it. Everything is good. Everything makes sense.

She looked at Helder -- his adorable mineiro smile that would probably be just as adorable when he turns 60. How great he looked in a tight shirt, relaxed, not at work. And Rafael -- his round nordestino lips and white teeth, and his big, strong arms. His infectious, joking accent. And then she looked at Kevin - how he somehow figured out how to take being the whitest guy on Earth, pale as a ghost, freckly, a bit dorky, and working it like a killer outfit in the right place in the world, and at the right time in his life. And he was decked out all in Brazilian clothes, and his body was starting to bulk up just enough to notice, especially if you'd known him a couple of years. He always had a great smile.

In that instant, Elaine would get everything she'd flown five thousand miles and spent who-knew-how-much money to make it all worthwhile. This was what life was about.

And three hours later, they were on top of the Hotel Unique at Skye -- looking out over the expanse of São Paulo's twinkling skyscrapers in all directions, next to the long wading pool that was changing all sorts of colors, with long-legged women and big, confident boys skipping and lumbering around, saying hi to each other and giving kisses and sipping drinking under the buzzing urban skies above them. Shuttles were heading back and forth from Congonhas, to and from Rio and beyond. Helicopters. Car horns. Gossip, plans, greetings and goodbyes. They were whirling all around as they sat on lounges and felt wonderful about life.

And then, in a flash, they were walking into Ultralounge at 2am -- just as the drunken women were exiting the club and heading home from their extended happy hour, and the music began to jump from pseudo-samba-house to the pulsing, pounding beat of the opening song of Paulo Ciotti's set. At first, none of them had any idea what it was, maybe a new pirate remix of an old song.

They'd all made it out onto the floor by the time it started. Rodrigo had shown up with his boyfriend and their friends, in from Santa Catarina for the weekend. Kevin was off talking to Rafael's friends who he'd met months earlier, getting a Red Bull for Elaine, and when he got back to her, the track was starting to sound familiar for some reason. Not his favorite track by that old band, but there was something about it that was cool and different, and all the funky kids were coming out onto the floor, too. And he caught Elaine's eye as the vocal started, and they both looked at each other, not saying anything, kind of wondering if they were really hearing what they thought they were hearing.

Indeed - it was a song that no one was supposed to hear for another month or so. They had no idea what it was even called, but after a moment or two, it was unmistakable who was singing it. Somehow, Paulo had gotten his hands on it, much like how Elaine had appeared out of thin air next to Kevin 24 hours earlier. And the bass line was throbbing inside their throats and in their chests, and their smiles spread across their faces.

And in that instant -- it hit Kevin like the rush that hits your head when the pill kicks in. And he'd had nothing more than a sip of vodka and Sprite. It was like a giant wave off some wild coastline, smashing against you and sweeping you up, and the sand and the sun and the feeling of your skin and your body are all so wonderful. And you're suddenly 16 years old again, and the summer has just begun, and school is out, and you're young, white and free -- and everyone is beautiful, and you're beautiful, and you can live out all your wild fantasies and dreams right there on the floor, with a room packed with hundreds of other dreamers.

And in that instant, everything Kevin ever lived for, since he was a child, once again came together.

[Posted: November 15, 2005] FEEDBACK PERMALINK

 

The Week

The rain started just as they got out of Helder's car in the entrance yard of The Week.

Elaine deployed her umbrella, and she and Kevin hustled over to the valet entrance, while Helder got his claim ticket and handed over his keys.

"Do you see them?" (Kevin)

"Not here." (Elaine)

They walked along side the line and up to the front. Helder caught up with them. They went to Toni at the door.

"Oiee, Elaine..."

She got a two-cheek kiss, and a waist-grab.

"There are two big German boys in there waiting for you..." (Toni, as he tore their tickets and lifted the velvet rope.)

"I guess they're here, huh?" (Kevin)

They walked into the corner entrance of the biggest club in São Paulo, and it was a show night. Kristine W. was on the bill -- not terribly well known, but The Week had quickly become a sort of gay social temple. It almost didn't matter who was doing a show. If there was an event, the boys showed up in massive force. It was a curious development about that city. The gay scene literally exploded overnight. Five years earlier, such nights would not have been common or easily arranged. Promotions would have been strenuous and unsophisticated. But today, Andre Almada was running a club so successful, so central to the gay social weekend in the largest city in the Southern Hemisphere, that he would always have a look of amazement on his face as he walked the floor himself on nights like this.

A giant stage had been built out in the courtyard, next to the pool (where swimming took place on sunny mornings before the club would end its parties around 4 or 5 in the afternoon). A big video screen towered over the stage's temporary outdoor dancefloor, much like a second stage at a music festival. As they looked inside, through the battery of exit doors from the main dancefloor, it was clear that The Week would be packed to its walls that evening.

Kevin took Elaine's umbrella off to the check room while she and Helder went looking for the others in the VIP room (which was also, thankfully, smoke free at Kristine W.'s request).

As soon as they stepped in, she could see Sebastian and Mik at the bar, and Rodrigo sitting between them. She'd met them all in Rio last year, and became good friends with Rodrigo. At least, good friends in the way Elaine made friends. She'd only met him briefly the first time, then had run into him at a club in March with Kevin, and gotten his phone number that evening. He was what Kevin would call a "loosely kept boy" - in that he wasn't exactly a possession of Sebastian's. He didn't have to be 100% faithful, so long as he knew where his bread was ultimately buttered.

Sebastian was German, had a house in Ipanema, worked often in New York for a music label, and didn't ever say much. Rodrigo was from São Paulo -- all his friends still lived there -- and always seemed more alive there. It was a sad truth of gay life in Brazil - much like in America - that there are some boys who become loosely kept as a living, and the ideal situation would be with a keeper who knew how to manage it well. Who paid just enough attention to the kept one's tastes and aspirations, while giving them a sense of order and structure at the same time. Setting rational limits.

It was quite logical to Elaine, albeit a very male construct.

It made Kevin nauseous. He never wanted to discuss it, and wasn't much of a Rodrigo fan.

Helder never mentioned an opinion, but it was clearly not a sort of life that anyone from Minas would consider.

*****

"So what did your email about Ken mean?" Sean asked.

Roy smiled, and didn't say anything.

Halo was packed that Saturday night. Eric and Chris were there. David was home sick with a cold. Sasha had just closed on a new condo in Baltimore which put him "closer to the bars....okay, to the two bars...."

"I think he's pulling away," Roy said, quiet enough for Sean not to hear him. Sean leaned in closer.

"I don't know what to think anymore," Roy said to him.

Meanwhile, Ken was on the line outside Halo, winding down the sidewalk on P Street, trying to get Roy on the phone but it was rolling to voice mail.

*****

They were spread out all over the club.

Kevin was in the pista menor with Helder and his friends Fabiano, Maikon and Joe. They were all feeling it -- and dancing up a storm. Shirts were coming off (it was hot in there) and the crowd was full of smiling kids from all over. No attitude at all. Kevin looked up at one point and saw a kid named Hugo -- yet another Orkutamigo he was seeing in person for the first time. He waved, Hugo waved. It was like seeing a friend, even though they'd never actually met.

"Oh my God," Kevin said into Helder's ear. "There's HotJock!"

And yes -- it was the same Orkut "celebrity" named HotJockBR. His name was Sergio, and he had several full profiles on Orkut, and he was one of those very ubiquitous people in the scene. Easily recognized for a number of reasons -- and clearly, well known by all the cute boys who were into older, bigger men.

"Oh I know him," Fabiano said, slyly -- being one of them...

"I bet you do!!" Joe screeched, and popped him in the arm.

"This is so funny," Kevin said. "It's so Purple Rose of Cairo!"

"He's a good kisser, by the way...." (Fabiano)

They all howled and rubbed Fabiano's head in mock disdain as the music shifted to an old standard, and arms went up in the air, along with the "oba!"s...

Elaine was out on the elevated platform overlooking the main floor, in front of the VIP lounge. She'd said hello to Kristine W. for a moment, who'd just survived cancer and was coming back a third or fourth time. Heavily made up, heavily decked out. She looked tired and energetic at the same time. Clearly not drunk or on anything (unlike Deborah Cox at the e-Joy Moon show at Anhembi). But the poor woman didn't look so great close up.

As Elaine looked out over the crowd, she wondered for a moment what she was doing there. Why she had come all this way to see this show. What was she hoping to make happen this night? The main floor was so packed that no one could move. People were shoving one another. It continued out into the courtyard and onto the second stage. It was in the multitudes in front of her that she realized the intrinsic value of being inside a cocoon of friends at all times in a place like this. Like living in a city as huge and sprawling as São Paulo every day. You would get used to the crowds and the pushing and the shoving, and you'd try to draw in your friends as a shield.

But this was far beyond what Elaine could ever tolerate in a city, day after day. And as she stood on the little VIP platform, looking down on Rodrigo and Zé and their little group hopping up and down and snapping pictures of themselves for their fotologs, she imagined how awful it would be to be down there on the floor.

And yet, she still stood up there and wondered -- what am I doing here?

It could have been a half hour, or two hours - they couldn't tell anymore, they were feeling it so much. And all through the Gabriel & Dresden retrospective on the small dance floor, tucked into a corner of the mega-complex, Kevin and the boys didn't realize how the crowd was halved for a while.

Then Helder looked at his watch -- his pie-eyes trying to focus -- and he saw it was already five o'clock. The show was to start at 4.

"We're missing the show!" he started yelling to everyone -- Kevin, Fabiano, Joe -- and now Hugo, his friend Gui....the ever growing blob of this group that formed like a bundle of cotton candy there in front of the DJ booth.

All sorts of failed attempts to rally them came, and Kevin and Helder decided to venture out to the main floor to see. And they managed to get out to the side of the second stage, right near the main entrance, where they stumbled upon Maikon-- and a whole new gaggle of boys. One or two that either were American or once lived there. All of them in sunglasses, about 5 feet 8 inches tall, shirtless, and high as kites.

They all greeted Kevin and Helder by throwing arms over shoulders, big wet kisses, smiles and hip-wagging. Kevin craned his head to one side and saw on the video screen that Kristine W. was waving to the crowd, surrounded by Andre Almada's fleet of go-go boys. The stage was littered with balloons and confetti, and the thumping beat was winding down as she croaked out "eu te amo, Brazil! Thank you!"

Kevin laughed out loud, as he looked around the tightly-packed landscape.

"We missed it!" (Kevin)

"Yeah..." (Helder)

"And you know what? I don't care!"

"Hahahahahah!"

 

[Posted: November 22, 2005 ] FEEDBACK PERMALINK