Date: Thu, 27 Mar 2003 21:25:34 -0600
From: A. Janes <ajanes@earthlink.net>
Subject: Now Let Me Get This Straight, part 1

Now Let Me Get This Straight
By Austin Janes


"Eddie, it's a well known fact that if a man is still single by the time
he's 30, there's a 73% chance that he's gay," remarked Joshua Bennett,
punctuating his statement with a deliberate slurp of his skim-milk latte.

The coffee bar, Rottguts, where Josh and his cousin Edward Bennett could be
found most mornings after their walk in Forest Park, was beginning to fill
up with customers. As usual, their friend Charlotte Lucas sat with them at
a small table near a window overlooking Euclid Avenue. At this point,
however, she was not observing the passersby or drinking her own skim-milk
latte, but rather staring open-mouthed at Josh.

Edward could barely suppress a smile. Josh was known for his fantastic
pronouncements--seemingly out of the blue. But Edward suspected Josh was up
to something, so he decided to play along.

"73% chance?" Edward queried.

"Yes!" Josh stated emphatically.

"Well known fact?"

"Yeah, I read it somewhere."

"Newsweek Magazine?"

"No, I don't think so."

"The New York Times, perhaps?"

"No." Josh hesitated. "I think it might have been The Gayzette." The
aforementioned newspaper, published in Los Angeles as The Gaylala Gazette,
was a notorious gay tabloid known to its legion of readers around the
nation as "The Gayzette".

Edward laughed. "And you don't think a statistic like that coming from The
Gayzette might be just a little bit suspect?"

In exasperation, Josh, who knew when his cousin was giving him a hard time,
finally got to the point. "Look, you're not going to tell me that Chaz
Bingley isn't gay."

Charles Bingley, 32-year-old restaurateur and retired dot.com millionaire
from New York, was rumored to be opening up a Trattoria Carlo in St. Louis,
one of only three in the country. He was also rumored to be buying a large
mansion on Portland Place in the Central West End, where the trio now sat.

"You think he's gay, don't you?" Josh appealed to Charlotte, who was now
laughing, too.

"I don't know, Josh," she answered. "He was listed as one of the 25 most
eligible bachelors in People Magazine last year. They're supposed to be
straight, aren't they?"

Edward could finally begin to see method in his cousin's madness. Josh had
a tendency to fall in love with the celebrity of the moment. His innocent
temperament, inexperience and trusting nature made anything seem possible
to him. An incurable romantic, Josh would gush over a handsome celebrity
for days, before Edward would ultimately declare a moratorium on the mere
mention of said celebrity's name. Remembering Josh's last infatuation--with
a "boy band" member--Edward shuddered inwardly.

Josh had been living with Edward for two years, since Josh had finished his
associate's degree in graphic arts at a community college in Chicago. He
had come out to his parents after graduation, and although his mother
seemed to accept his being gay with equanimity, his father blew up. Not
that he was exactly thrown out of the house, but Josh thought the time was
right to come down to St. Louis to live with his cousin, who had been
openly gay, more or less, for the last 20 of his 37 years.

Edward made a modest but comfortable living as a free-lance graphic
designer working in his basement studio at home. His two-bedroom brick
townhouse in the Central West End was also modest but comfortable. Josh's
boisterous presence took a bit of getting used to at first, but Edward soon
wondered how he had ever lived without it.

Not long after moving in with his cousin, Josh found a job as a computer
"associate" at one of the many local Kinko's and worked the evening shift
from 3 to 11. Josh was a bright, talented designer. Edward frequently
consulted him on the design of whatever brochure, newsletter or magazine ad
Edward was working on, and Josh was invaluable when it came to technical
questions about the computer. Edward could never quite understand why Josh
had settled for a job at Kinko's.

But Josh seemed happy enough; he had made plenty of friends and had a
little money to spend. He was tall and slender with a handsome face framed
by an unkempt mass of chestnut hair. His green eyes and Van Dyck mustache
and beard made him look, in Edward's mind, like an adorably scruffy
terrier. Edward worried, though, that Josh had no "significant other" in
his life. Perhaps at 22, Josh didn't need a significant other, but the
celebrity infatuations were troubling. He wondered sometimes whether Josh's
refusal to settle into a serious relationship was motivated by his concern
for Edward's loneliness.

Edward himself had had a serious affair about ten years before with a man
who became emotionally abusive. The affair inevitably ended badly and left
deep scars within him. Fortunately, the man moved out of town soon after
the affair ended. Edward had mostly resigned himself to a life alone before
his cousin's appearance on his doorstep.

If asked to appraise his own appearance Edward would readily admit his
wasn't the handsomest face on the block, but his mug wouldn't stop a clock
either. About four inches shorter than Josh with thinning blond hair, a
carefully trimmed graying beard and pale blue eyes, Edward was in a
constant battle with middle-age spread. So far he was winning.

This late autumn day, however, he was taking a break from the battle. He
and Josh had sighted a kingfisher perched on a branch overhanging the
little river that wound its way through the park. That, thought Edward, was
reason enough to forgo his usual skim-milk cappuccino at Rottguts and have
the mocha with extra whipped cream instead. Taking in a warm mouthful of
the chocolaty brew, he sighed contentedly.

"Even if Mr. Bingley is gay, so what?"

"Well, I'm planning to meet him, of course," Josh stated as if it were
obvious.

"And exactly how do you plan to meet him?" Edward ventured, afraid of the
answer. He knew better than to ask why he wanted to meet him.

"At the opera ball! Duh?!"

Charlotte did a spit-take with her skim-milk latte and grabbed a napkin to
quickly clean up the mess she had made.

"Josh, honey," she said, "that party is way out of your league. I'm only
going because I work for City Opera, and they need someone to serve the
hors d'oeuvres." This was not strictly true. Charlotte came from old
St. Louis money. Her father was a major contributor to the St. Louis City
Opera Company, and could easily manage to take her and a dozen others to
the $300-a-person fundraiser. In any event, it was highly unlikely she
would be serving hors d'oeuvres.

"Besides," Edward countered gently, "we don't even know if he'll be in
St. Louis, let alone go to the opera ball. He may hate opera for all we
know."

"Actually, we do know," Charlotte added sheepishly. As the personal
assistant to the General Director of City Opera, she knew the guest list
backwards and forwards. "Chaz Bingley is coming with two guests. The whole
office was talking about it."

Giving her a "don't encourage him" glare, Edward continued to Josh, "We
still can't really afford that kind of party. It's bound to be very
expensive. You haven't won the lottery and neglected to tell me, have you?"

"Hey, I've already looked into it," Josh argued. "The dinner part is
$300. You can go just for the dancing for $75."

"Okay," Edward sighed, "if you really want to go, I'll help you come up
with the $75. But it will mean giving up movies and restaurants for a
month." The attempted guilt trip didn't work.

"I can come up with the $75, old man. I'll even shell out $75 for you,
'cause I'm not letting you stay home! And wipe the whipped cream off your
beard, Eddie. You look like a rabid Santa."

Blushing, and suddenly at a loss for words, Edward quickly darted his
tongue out to lick off the sweet white froth. He got up from the table,
with Josh and Charlotte grinning at him, and the three left the coffee bar
to begin their day.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


Though Edward had lost the battle, he hadn't entirely given up on the war.
Barely a week before the opera fundraiser was to take place, he and Josh
were taking their daily walk in Forest Park. The early morning December sun
reflected off the Jewel Box as they approached it from the east, making the
landmark glass conservatory shine like polished gold. The air was cold and
still, and both men paused to watch two squirrels race across the walking
path and up into an ancient oak tree several yards away.

As they resumed their walk, Edward began, "You know, you don't have to pay
for me to go to this opera thing. I know you want to go, but I don't need
to be there. It's really for the fat-cat donors--not at all my kind of
crowd."

"Now, c'mon, Eddie!" Josh replied, "I've already paid for the tickets. It's
my treat 'cause of all the great stuff you've done for me these past
coupl'a years. Anyway, you don't get out enough. I keep telling you, you're
never gonna meet anyone sitting on your butt at home. And besides, you're
the opera freak--this'll be great!"

"I am not a freak!" Edward bristled. "It's not like I play Verdi all day on
my CD player in the studio. You know I got involved with City Opera as a
volunteer because Charlotte dragged me into it. I didn't even know what
opera was until five years ago." This wasn't entirely true, of course.
Edward loved classical music and had even minored in music in college. He
had never really been interested in opera, though, until Charlotte had
asked him to work shifts with her in the opera boutique. He got into
several of the performances for free as a boutique volunteer and quickly
became hooked on the combination of aural and visual spectacle. He was now
a subscriber as well as devoted volunteer.

"Okayokayokay!" Josh interrupted. "Cool your jets! I just meant that you
really like opera, and there's bound to be other opera frea...--I mean,
opera-loving guys like yourself there. You know, you could maybe connect
with one of 'em."

"Look, Josh. Your intentions are undoubtedly good. There may be some gay
men there, but probably nobody I haven't met before. Most of the people
there will be society matrons with their bored husbands. As I said, it's
not my crowd. But okay, I'll go. I like to dance, and I can always waltz
with Charlotte."

"Now that's the spirit, Eddie!" Josh shouted, slapping his cousin on the
back and scaring a nearby flock of juncos into flight.

The pair was now approaching the Gazebo circle and making their way towards
the cricket field. A new tactic suddenly came into Edward's mind. "By the
way, Mr. Celebrity Junkie, have you given any thought to what you're going
to wear to this fancy-shmancy affair? I don't recall ever seeing you in a
suit. Do you even own one?"

"No prob, Eddie," Josh replied, "I've already asked my friend Brandon if I
can borrow his tux. He and I wear the same size."

"I should hope so!" said Edward. "Isn't Brandon the one with the pierced
eyebrow and that big, godawful tattoo on his arm? What would he be doing
with a tux?"

"Yeah, that's the guy. His 'rents made him get one for his high school
prom. They also made him take a girl to the prom, too, but that's another
story." Deciding he didn't like the direction that piece of information was
leading to, Josh continued, "So what are you gonna wear, Eddie?"

"Well, I'm not sure, really. I've only got two suits. I guess the charcoal
gray one would be best under the circumstances."

"Yeah, that's cool! You look wicked in dark colors. You should wear black
more."

Edward rolled his eyes. The two continued in silence until they reached the
little wrought iron Victorian bridge. The river was mostly crusted over
with ice. A few mallards and wood ducks crowded into the remaining open
patch of water. The wooden floor of the bridge creaked with cold as they
made their way across.

"Eddie, can I ask you something?" Josh began.

"You know you can."

"You won't laugh?"

"I won't laugh."

"Do you believe everybody has a lost half?"

"A lost half? What do you mean?"

"Well, you know, this Greek guy--Aristotle or maybe Plato or one of those
guys--he said that everybody is searching for their lost half. It was like
there used to be three sexes: men, women and--I don't know what you would
call 'em--like transvestites who are both men and women?"

"You mean, hermaphrodites?"

"Yeah, something like that. Anyway, they all somehow get split up into two
people each. The man becomes two gay men, the woman two lesbians and the
hermaphrodite a straight couple. Only everybody gets separated from each
other, and so they spend their entire life looking for their lost half."

"Yes, I've read that myth."

"Do you think you have a lost half somewhere out there?"

"Josh, you know I'm not very romantic. It's a lovely idea to be sure, but I
have my doubts. Why are you asking anyway?"

"I know you think I'm nuts about celebs and stuff, but I've had this funny
feeling about Chaz Bingley. At first it was just 'Oh, he's such a stud!'
and 'Wouldn't it be hot to find out what's under his Calvin Kleins?' But
then I read the People article and checked out his website and stuff. He is
such a cool guy. He's done so much to help other people, too. Did you know
after he made all his money he started a foundation that does everything
from funding AIDS research to feeding hungry people around the world? He
also gives a lot of money to arts organizations like the opera in New
York. That's why when I read he might be opening one of his restaurants in
St. Louis I figured that he might come to the opera thing here."

"You've obviously given this a lot of thought."

"I know I sound totally lame, Eddie, but I feel like I have this connection
with him."

"I don't know what to tell you, Josh. I don't believe in 'psychic
connections' or whatever you want to call them. But I don't have any
evidence to the contrary either. Just be careful, okay? Someone like
Charles Bingley will be surrounded by people to protect him from the likes
of you and me. And you can't really blame him. Everyone wants a piece of
him. What a life that must be! Most of all, though, I don't want you
getting hurt. You and he may be in the same place, but you'll be planets
apart. I don't know how you'll even get to talk with him."

"I was going to ask Charlotte to introduce us."

"Charlotte? What makes you think Charlotte knows him?"

"Charlotte told me the other day he came in to the opera office to meet
with Fergus Kenton, and she talked with him." Mr. Kenton was the General
Director. Charlotte not only talked with Mr. Bingley, she chatted him
up. She wasn't about to lose an opportunity to flirt with an attractive,
rich, and very single man no matter what The Gayzette might have to say
about it. She did not relate this all to Josh, however.

Edward cautioned, "I don't think that's enough to get you an introduction
to Mr. Bingley. Please, Josh--please don't get your hopes up too high. You
know I think the world of you. You're probably too good for this guy
anyway. But the truth is, despite what you've read about him, you really
don't know him at all. I respect what you feel; I really do. But..."

"But you think I'm totally crazy," Josh interrupted.

"No, I don't, Josh. I've never seen you like this before, so I believe you
when you say you feel something special. I'm just not sure what you're
really feeling or what might be causing it."

Josh could see the look of deep concern in Edward's face. He sighed, "I
know you care about me, dude. I appreciate it. Really, I won't go off the
deep end. It isn't that kind of feeling."

"Josh, no matter what happens at the ball, I want you to remember it as a
delightful occasion."

"I probably wouldn't put it like that," Josh grinned.

"You know what I mean," Edward retorted with a smile while punching his
cousin lightly on the arm. By now the walkers had reached Rottguts, and,
spying Charlotte through the window, they entered their favorite coffee bar
and went up to the counter to place their orders.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The Saturday afternoon before the opera ball, Charlotte gazed out of a
window in the bedroom of her St. Regis apartment. The low hanging cloud
cover and the leafless trees in the park seemed to match the color of her
mood: gray. She had been trying to decide which of her new gowns to wear
for the ball. Should she be fashionable, safe and boring and wear the black
one, or should she take a risk and wear the strapless celadon green one?
She had almost convinced herself to wear the celadon green one. The color
contrasted well with her dark, almost black hair and soft brown eyes. If
she wore the diamond necklace her parents had given her for her
twenty-first birthday, she would look absolutely smashing, she thought.

But that was the problem. Smashing for whom? Now that she was approaching
forty with a figure approaching "matronly"--ooh, how she hated that
word--who would care how she looked? When she was younger, Charlotte had
turned down several offers of marriage. Not that she had an over inflated
opinion of herself. She had never been beautiful, and she knew it. Her
younger sister Mariah seemed to have inherited the little beauty there was
in her family. The suitors that had come her way, however, were
transparently interested in her trust fund, and she turned them down flat.

Charlotte knew the ball's guest list by heart. There was no one coming she
hadn't met a thousand times before at other charitable events and parties.
She knew the gay men, the image-conscious corporate executives, the bored
husbands looking for a little bit of fluff on the side--none of them worth
showing off her ample cleavage to in a celadon green gown. She knew them
all, except Charles Bingley and his two guests.

Her little chat with Mr. Bingley at the office had brightened her world
considerably. She hated to be the one to disappoint Josh, but in her mind
Mr. Bingley was clearly straight. She was also honest enough with herself,
though, to admit that nothing was likely to happen between her and
Mr. Bingley either. Turning from the window, she sighed dejectedly.

"But what about the two guests?" she said out loud to herself. Clearly one
of them, Caroline Bingley, must be a female relative--maybe a sister of
Mr. Bingley. The second was a Mr. D'Arcy. It was unlikely that he was one
of the local D'Arcys connected with the large public relations firm
downtown. Or maybe he was, and was some sort of agent for Mr. Bingley. But
she didn't recognize the first name, William, as belonging to anyone she
knew.

A quick trip into the study produced her copy of the Social Register. There
was only one D'Arcy family listed. These were descendants of the famous
Stanley D'Arcy, a 19th-century railroad baron who later founded the Acme
Oil Company. The F. William D'Arcy listed in the Register was the great
great-grandson of Stanley. He was the head of a New York real estate empire
and was reputed to be worth over a billion dollars. Surely, this couldn't
be Mr. Bingley's guest.

Or could it? With a little giggle, Charlotte said to herself, "Maybe I will
wear the green one, after all!"

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Over at the townhouse on Laclede Avenue, Edward heard Josh come in through
the basement door to the garage, which was built halfway below ground
level. He watched as Josh emerged at the top of the stairs with a clothes
bag on a hanger slung over his shoulder.

"Brandon's tux?" he asked.

"Yep. Just bringing it back from the dry cleaner," Josh replied. "It was
kinda--well--'stained' from the last time he used it, if you know what I
mean."

"Uh, I'll take your word for it." Edward didn't even want to think about
the implications. "Do you have black shoes and socks to wear? And what
about a bow tie and dress shirt?"

"Yeah, I got all those."

Edward smiled broadly at Josh.

"What?" Josh demanded.

"Oh, nothing." Then Edward blurted out in his most motherly voice, "My baby
is getting so grown up!" And then he began to laugh.

"Don't give me that shit, Methuselah!" Josh smirked. "I know where you
live..." Then he began laughing, too, dispersing some of the tension that
had been building up during the past few days.

As Josh began climbing the stairs to his second story bedroom, Edward
called him back. "Oh, Josh! Your pater familias called."

Josh paused on the steps. "My what-us famili..." He struggled with the
phrase and gave up. "Who?"

"Your dad."

"Why didn't you say so? You are too weird for words sometimes, Eddie."

Ignoring that remark, Edward continued, "He called to say that Lydia will
be flying down sometime next week after her Christmas break starts. He
wants us to put her up for a few days while she checks out St. Louis U."
Lydia was the youngest of Josh's three sisters. She was also Edward's least
favorite cousin. Spoiled beyond reason by his Uncle Ned, Josh's father, she
had become a self-centered, headstrong teenager. At 16, she was beginning
to look at colleges.

Josh's relationship with his father had improved considerably over the past
couple of years for two reasons. Mr. Bennett really loved his son despite
his disappointment about the prospect of no grandchildren carrying on the
family name, and he relied on Josh's computer expertise to help him keep
his own computer running smoothly. Mr. Bennett had discovered e-mail,
surfing the Internet and buying and selling on E-bay--all of which he took
to with a passion. He e-mailed Josh daily and telephoned him at least once
a week.

Josh's mother was, of course, ecstatic that the rift had been mended. Josh
in his optimistic way had known his father would come around eventually and
was glad that it had been sooner rather than later. He also quickly caught
on that his father preferred the "don't ask--don't tell" approach to Josh's
personal life.

Willful ignorance seemed to be a particular characteristic of the Bennett
men. Ten years ago Edward's own father, Jebediah Bennett, in a rare moment
of insight, commented on Edward's "dump face", as he called it, shortly
after Edward had ended the abusive affair with a Greg Farrar. Looking for
comfort from his father, Edward came out to him for the first time and
explained what had happened. Unlike Uncle Ned, his father did not blow
up. He just looked at Edward uncomfortably and said, "I see." Nothing more
was said. His father was now retired from his position as Vice President
and Chief Financial Officer of a large St. Louis barge company. Edward, an
only child, visited him at least once a week at Chatsworth Village, an
upscale retirement community, which was more like a high-rise apartment
building than a village.

Edward had told his mother that he was gay more or less on her deathbed.
She had died of breast cancer when Edward was twenty. She seemed not at all
surprised by his revelation, but expressed her motherly concern for his
chances of happiness in life. Her one word of advice, which continued to
haunt him long after she died, was that he should adopt a child.

In the bleak period following his breakup with Greg, Edward found himself
one Sunday morning at St. Sciurus Episcopal Church, within easy walking
distance of his townhouse. Although he grew up as a Catholic, Edward had
fallen away from that church in college. The rector of St. Sciurus, Father
Clarence Ross, welcomed Edward into the parish like the prodigal son.
Father Clarence was about 50 at the time, single, and a member of that rare
species, the African-American Episcopal priest. Edward supposed he was gay,
but Father Clarence never gave an inkling of it. His sermons tended to be
about love, compassion for our fellow human beings and reconciliation of
our broken selves with God. "Fire and brimstone" was a foreign language to
Father Clarence.

The parish itself was mixed: men and women, families and singles, black and
white, straight and gay. Edward felt right at home, and it was here that he
met Charlotte. Almost from the start of their relationship it was clear to
them both that there would be no sexual chemistry between them, but that
didn't prevent them from becoming fast friends.

With Father Clarence to give him gentle advice and Charlotte to pour out
his heart to, Edward gradually mended his broken spirit. When Josh came on
the scene, he started attending Sunday services with Edward as if it were
the most natural thing in the world. He also accompanied Edward one
Saturday a month to the church's soup kitchen downtown to help serve food.
He even reminded Edward if Edward forgot about the weekly food donation to
be deposited in the church hall on Sundays. Of course, tongues wagged at
first when Edward started showing up in church with a handsome young man,
but Josh soon became a beloved member of the parish family.

This same young man was now ensconced in his bedroom getting ready for the
opera ball. He and Edward had had a light supper earlier since they weren't
due at the event till nine o'clock. Though outwardly calm during the meal,
his nervousness manifested itself in small ways later. His forty-minute
shower was long even by his own standards. And now he was carefully combing
his hair one more time while scrutinizing his face in the mirror for any
signs of blemishes.

Brandon's tuxedo fortunately fit Josh like it had been custom made for
him. But deciding he couldn't stand looking at himself anymore, he
straightened his bow tie and left the bedroom. A few steps later, he burst
through Edward's bedroom door unannounced.

"Eddie, aren't you ready yet?"

Edward was standing in front of his dresser mirror putting the final
touches to his own outfit for the evening. Startled at first, he turned
around toward Josh and stared dumbfounded.

"What?" demanded Josh suspiciously.

"You look... you look... magnificent!" Edward managed to get out. With his
hair combed and his beard and mustache neatly trimmed, Josh looked like a
Hollywood movie star. The tuxedo gave Josh an appearance of maturity and
sophistication that Edward had never seen in his otherwise casual, laid
back cousin. And Edward witnessed another first: his cousin blushed.

Wishing to change the subject quickly, Josh asked, "You're not wearing that
tie, are you, Eddie?"

"You mean the one that I've already carefully tied around my neck? That
one?" Edward had chosen a tie with black, gray and olive stripes to go with
his suit.

"Yeah. You can't wear that one."

"And why not?"

"It's like totally wrong for your suit."

"What's wrong with it?" said Edward, becoming defensive.

Josh, sensing his cousin's uneasiness, moderated his criticism. "It's okay,
Eddie, but it's kinda dull, don't ya think? Here, let me pick one out for
you. Where do you keep your ties?"

Edward knew when to give in. He indicated the second dresser drawer from
the top. Josh opened the drawer and exclaimed, "Shit! You've got a hundred
ties in here! Who knew a man with only two suits could have a hundred
ties?"

"I'm sure there aren't more than forty in there. So I never throw anything
out? What's wrong with that?" Edward shot back.

Josh tried not to laugh as he rummaged through Edward's neatly folded
collection of ties. He pulled a few out and held them up next to Edward for
inspection. He finally settled on a black one with an abstract geometric
pattern in charcoal gray, royal blue and apricot.

Edward dutifully removed the old tie and put on the new. The two men stood
side by side in front of the mirror appraising Josh's choice.

"See how this tie brings out the color in your eyes? Now you look hot!"

"What if I don't want to look hot?" Edward was still being defensive.

"Don't go there, dude!" Josh countered. "You're going to have fun tonight
whether you like it or not!"

Edward couldn't stop himself from laughing after such a pronouncement.
"Okayokay! But we're not going to have anything if we don't get going."

"So what's stoppin' us?" Josh asked, and the two raced each other down the
two flights of stairs to the garage.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

To be continued ...

The author retains all rights to this work of fiction. No reproductions or
links to other sites are allowed without the author's consent.

Comments, compliments and constructive criticism are always welcome and may
be addressed to the author at Ajanes@earthlink.net