Date: Fri, 15 Dec 2006 19:25:08 +0900
From: Caleb
Subject: THE INTERVIEW

This work is a product of the author's imagination, places, events and
people are either fictitious or used fictitiously and any resemblance to
real events, places, or people, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
The author retains full copyright to the material, and sincerely hopes you
like it!

If you have something to say about it that isn't flaming me then
email me at: caleb<graemefj@iinet.net.au>


THE INTERVIEW


_	Are you sitting comfortably?

_	As comfortably as I could expect to be.

_	Nervous?

_	A little.

_	There's no reason to be.  Just pretend the audience isn't here.

_	It's not that. It's been my experience that when a guy gets up and starts
boasting about how happy he is and how great his relationship is... you
know the sort of thing . it always seems to put some sort of curse on it.
When I read about a guy saying that, it always seems that a couple of
months later I hear that this great relationship has hit the rocks.

_	Do you think that will happen in your case?

_	I hope not. But gay relationships always seem to carry the seeds of their
own destruction.

_	A grim thought.  So let's start talking about your relationship.  What's his
name?

_	Joe.

_	How long have you been together?

_	Five years . going on six.  That's about eighty years in gay years.

_	Would you say you are happy?

_	This is where I feel I should touch wood.  Yes . very happy.  The
happiest I've been in my whole life.

_	How did you meet?  At a bar?  A party? What?

_	No.  Nothing like that.  We met at an audition for a play.  I was the director.
He was an actor auditioning.

_	Eyes across a crowded room?

_	No.  He was just one of a lot of eager actors.  The thing I noticed about
him was his hairy legs and neat ankles.  It was a hot day.  He was wearing
baggy shorts and joggers.  He was wearing those short socks that just
show above the level of the joggers.  I can't wear those socks. I have
funny shaped heels and they keep creeping under my feet.  I think that's
what got my attention.  After that, I noticed other things about him: he has
amazing eyes - pale aquamarine like a cat, and he wore his hair long, cut
off squarely at chin level and parted in the middle so that it fell forward and
half covered his face.  He auditioned well, I remember, so we finally
offered him the part of Peter Quince - it was "Midsummer Night's Dream"
we were casting.  I can honestly say he got the part under his own efforts.
It wasn't as though I had the hots for him, so there was no suggestion of
the Casting Couch about it. No, though I did think he was very polite and
pleasant, not at all brash and grating - just a thoroughly nice guy.

_	So how did you get together?

_ 	The rehearsal process is quite . intimate. if that's the right word.  The
director gets to know the actors very well and vice versa.  It's very
understandable that actors and directors can connect very intimately.

_	So when did you and he ..???

_	Not during the rehearsal period, though there was a lot going on among
the cast, both straight and gay.  An enclosed group like that becomes a
hot bed for gossip, and it's always been my rule that as director, I should
retain a certain amount of restraint to maintain discipline.  I've been in
shows where the director is fucking everyone, left, right and center and the
atmosphere has been strained and unpleasant.  I like to keep a certain
distance from the cast and not become too involved.  God! That sounds
priggish!  But it seems to work as it did in this case.

_	So really, you didn't consider making your move until the show had
closed?

_	Well yes and no.  It suddenly dawned on me about a week out from
opening night that I was deeply in love with him.

_	Wow! That's very romantic.

_	.And very unexpected.  I'm much older than he is so I was quite
unprepared for the emotional bombshell.  I've always thought of myself as
a bit of a cold fish..
 " I cannot tell what this Love may be
			  That cometh to others but not to me."
	It completely floored me, and I really had to fight hard to stop being
distracted during that vital final week of rehearsals.  Jane Austen said
something about not being able to pin-point the exact time or place when it
happened.  I knew exactly what she was talking about . probably for the
first time in my life.

_	Did Joe feel the same?

_	He says not.  Although he admits he liked me a lot, and he has admitted
later that he sought my company during the rehearsal period for endless
explanations of his role.  There wasn't much I could discuss with him.  The
role of Peter Quince is hardly King Lear. It has almost no sub-text, but I
liked talking to him.  At that time, I believe he never even considered that
he might be gay.  He had a girl friend.

_	A girl friend? Did you meet her?

_	Oh yes.  Meredith.  I met her for the first time at the opening night party.
The party was held on the stage.  I was button-holed by some important
people of the theatre and I saw him roll in with her on his arm.  The
implication hit me at once and I felt like I had been punched in the
stomach.  I immediately resolved I'd avoid them for the rest of the evening.
Ha!  Within five minutes of their arriving he'd maneuvered his way through
the crowd - and it was a big crowd - and was tapping me on the shoulder
to introduce her.

_	What was she like?

_	She was - still is, I suppose - highly polished, almost lacquered.  She
dressed in a style that's called "power dressing" .. Black suit, padded
shoulders, high stiletto heels with her hair representing the pinnacle of the
metallurgist's art.  She'd obviously come straight from work . public
relations, or advertising, or some such . and it amazed me that such a
woman would stake a claim on a guy like Joe, who's such a laconic, easy
going guy.  But claim him she did.  Her arm was linked through his in a
very possessive manner.

_	You obviously didn't like her.

_	Let's say I didn't warm to her.  But in all fairness, she was determined to
please.  She praised the play - though I suspected she hadn't actually
seen it  - she smiled and laughed and to her credit, she didn't try to
overshadow Joe on his opening night.  And all the while, she held on to
him as though daring anyone to take him from her.  I couldn't help myself.
I nodded towards their linked arms and said, as cordially as I could: " Are
congratulations called for?"  Joe looked startled, and seemed to notice her
arm through his for the first time.  "We aren't engaged," he said firmly and
she laughed lightly and said, " Not yet, at least."
	Poor Joe.  I could have laughed out loud, if I hadn't been feeling like all my
children had been murdered before my eyes.  I smiled and said the usual
social inanities .. "Nice to meet you"  etc .. And I moved away from them.
I felt that my heart was close to breaking. Corny, isn't it?
 I saw her again at some of the cast parties during the run of the play until
the play's run finally came to an end - four weeks; full houses. not bad
for a Shakespeare - and then the final night party..

_	You say that like it meant something.

_	It meant everything.  The play was a great success, and the cast and crew
had become particularly close so on the final night party there was a lot of
drinking and maudlin expressions of undying love and respect.  You know
- the usual thing.  I'd bought small gifts for everyone involved - lapel pins
for the guys in the shape of silver stag heads, and silver fairy brooches for
the girls - and I went round thanking each personally and throwing my
arms around them and hugging and all that.  I left Joe till last, for I knew it
would be very hard to leave him.  I saw him standing a little apart, and,
miracle of miracles, alone.  I bowled up to him and told him how much I
liked working with him and gave him his little gift.  It was really difficult to
keep it personal yet impersonal, if you know what I mean. Then, when I
felt I could say no more I decided to take my leave and as a final gesture, I
threw my arms around him to give him a farewell hug.  I wasn't ready for
what happened.  His scent hit me and overwhelmed me.  Holy
pheromones, Batman!  It was so erotic and beautiful.  I practically gasped
and could do nothing but cling to him. I clung to him, and I clung to him
until I realized I was holding him for far longer than was socially
acceptable and I would be making him uncomfortable so I tried to
disentangle myself.
	I couldn't.  Joe felt my trying to withdraw and clung to me tighter, burying
his face in my shoulder.  I moved my hands slowly and caressed him. I
was magical.  I knew it wasn't my imagination, but I could feel his love
radiating out from him. We had complete and perfect rapport.
After what seemed like hours, we slowly disengaged and stood very close,
gazing into each other's eyes and touching only with the interlinked
fingertips of one hand.  I looked into his wonderful eyes and saw his soul
and it was perfectly honest and beautiful.
 Of course we were interrupted.  Meredith came clattering up to us with
drinks in both hands, and I sprang away from Joe.  She said cheerily: "Are
you going already?" I must have mumbled something so I turned and left
and looked back once.  She had linked her arm through his again and was
talking animatedly to someone near her.  He was looking at me with a
hunger that struck me to the heart. I couldn't bear it any more so I went
home.

When I got home I was numb and exhausted.  I had forgotten the play and
all the excitement around it.  The only thing I could think of was Joe.
There were sexual feelings, yes, but mainly it was the experience of
holding him and looking into his eyes and the remembrance of the
unspoken communication we had had for those few moments.  I just sat in
an armchair in a sort of daze.  I must have sat for hours.  When I finally
came out of my trance I saw it was after three o'clock so I roused myself
to go to bed.  As I did so the phone rang.
I knew it was him before I answered the phone.
I said: "Hello?"  He said: "I'm outside.  Can I come in?"  I whispered: "yes."
And hung up.  I opened the door.  Joe was there.  I just reached out and
clasped him.
Have you ever seen that silent film " Birth of a Nation" ?

_	Can't say that I have.

_	A great film.  There was a scene in it where the soldier comes home after
the war and goes to the front door of his house and all you see are the
arms of his mother reaching out from the doorway to embrace him.  That's
what it was like for Joe and me.  We didn't say anything.  We kissed, a
long, long kiss.  After the kiss, I closed the door and we went straight to
bed.  We didn't say anything.  We went to bed, and we stayed there for
three days.

_	You're kidding!!

_	Nope. The first day was spent fucking - making love, some sleeping, but
mostly making love.  On the second day we started talking, interrupted
periodically with fucking, but always talking, making jokes, telling each
other our dreams our hopes our plans for the future and more fucking.  On
the third day, we had to wash and shave, and we made heaps of food and
went back to bed and fucked again but sometimes just lay in each other's
arms and caressed each other.  I truly believe that since those three days,
there is no secret that we don't share.

_ 	It sounds . enviable.

_	It was a bloody miracle, that's what it was.  I thought it would never
happen to me.  What was Mel Brook's great line.grabbing a last thrill on
the way to the cemetery.?  That's how I viewed my life up to the time I
met Joe.  Now ...

_	Everything's coming up roses..?

_	Not quite . but getting there!  After those three days, the rest seemed
inevitable.  Joe moved in within the week.  My apartment was bigger than
the one he was sharing - a lot bigger in fact so he moved all his stuff in.
After one week living with him, we both realized we needed a much bigger
space, so we looked for and found a three-bedroom apartment that was
big enough for both of us.  We'd share the main bedroom and each of us
would have a room for an office or whatever.  It's a great apartment.
While we were in the throes of redecorating, Meredith turned up.

_	A woman scorned?

_	You ain't just whistlin' Dixie!  She breezed in, still dressed in power black,
and carrying a box of little cakes in one hand and a patchwork quilt in the
other - of all things.  A great quilt - it must have cost her a fortune.  It was
one of those Amish ones, you know, in the deep jewel-like colours.  Her
manner was very restless. She spoke very quickly and loudly and laughed
a lot, and her laugh sounded like breaking glass.  She moved around the
apartment loudly commenting on everything.. how wonderful, how
cunning, how fabulous!
	She didn't look at me or acknowledge my presence.  Big mistake!

 _	Why?

_	It showed a complete and absolute lack of understanding of Joe. and
Joe saw it. I think if she'd been cleverer, they'd still be friends.  I've never
enquired of Joe the precise nature of his relationship with Meredith, either
when we first got together in those magical three days or since.  Although
I've often wondered, I always felt it was his business and that if he wanted
to tell me he would have.  Maybe those three days just burnt away
everything in his past and he considered them supremely unimportant.
Maybe.
	Anyway, whatever he felt for Meredith, she destroyed in that visit.  After
letting her carry on for a while, I was at a loss to know what to do but Joe
stepped into the breech.
	"Meredith," he said, "you remember Andy."  She didn't answer him directly
but turned to him and said with a glittering smile, "Now, which is your
bedroom?  I want to put this quilt straight on your bed."
	His face turned to flint.  "Meredith.  Andy."  She still ignored him and flew
to one of the smaller rooms, and opened the door. It was full of rubbish
and unopened boxes.
	"Well, it's obviously not this one - though when I remember your house
keeping." and she gave a loud brittle laugh.
	In a voice of agate, Joe pointed to our bedroom.  "That's where Andy and I
sleep."
	She couldn't ignore that. She turned to him, and all good humour had
been wiped from her face.  Her eyes were coldly blazing and her skin
seemed to have shrunk around her skull.
	She mouthed the words as though they had a bitter taste.
	"That's disgusting!"
	A lesser man would have quailed before such malice.  Not Joe.
	"It's not disgusting at all," he said,  "but be content that you'll never know
what it's like."
	And she slapped him.  Hard.  He just moved his head slightly and gave
her a level look.  I had to intervene then.  I moved up behind Joe, and I
couldn't help it but Oscar Wilde leapt to mind.
	I said: "It seems we trespass on your valuable time.  Not doubt you have
many other calls of a similar nature to make."
	"You filthy fucking faggots!!" she screamed, " I hope you both rot in hell!"
and she stormed out and slammed the door.
	I must admit I was stunned. A whirlwind in - a whirlwind out. I looked at
Joe and to my surprise he was grinning broadly.
	"Oscar Wilde.  Right?"
	I smiled back. "The best line in the play."
	He nodded.  He picked up the quilt and shook it out and said absently,
"Thought I recognized it.  Went for Algernon once."
	"What happened?"
	"Didn't get it. You know, this will look great on the bed.  She always did
have good taste."
	"Joe...?"
	"She left the cakes too."  He held out the box to me, his wonderful eyes
twinkling.  "Want one?"

_	So that was the end of Meredith?

_	Well, we never saw her again, but her influence.. Well, let me explain.
Joe is an actor as I said.  To establish a regular income in an uncertain
profession, he and three or four others had formed a little group called
"The Elephant Men".  They hired themselves out to children's parties and
other gigs as children's entertainers.  Joe had always liked kids.

_	Like the Wiggles?

_	Not nearly in the same league, but you've got the general idea.  They
were just starting to become known round town.  Joe was very keen on
this group, He did all the organizing and booking their gigs and all that sort
of work.
	On one weekend, they were booked for an out-of-town gig - their first as it
happens - and Joe was very excited about it.  He'd booked the hotel and
hired the van and done all the preparation work, but comes the week-end
in question, I come home from work on the Friday night and there's Joe,
watching TV.
	"Hey," I said, "have I mistaken the weekend?  Shouldn't you be driving
down the highway to fame and fortune."
	He just shrugged and said, "The Elephant Men can do without me."
	I couldn't believe my ears.  I thought it was some bizarre joke. "No way,
Joe.  That group will die without you."
	Joe kissed me on the forehead. "I quit today."
	It took my breath away.  I knew how he had worked and organized and
planned.
	"Why?"
	"The guys found out I'm gay."
	"So?"
	"I thought it best that I quit."
	I was appalled. "Joe," I said as urgently as I could. "These guys are actors.
They don't give a stuff who's fucking your arse. Shit, they're probably
fucking each other."
	Joe was very calm.  "I know," he said, " and you're right. But they found
out. They didn't want me to leave, but I quit."
	I was a bit annoyed. "I suppose you can't keep something like this a
secret, but all the same."   and then it hit me.."Fucking Meredith!"
	"She told JJ.  He thought it was a great joke and told the others."
	"But they don't care.  You said so yourself."
	"They don't care, but that's not the point.  You would care."
	"What!"
	"You'd care if I'm arrested for pedophilia."
	I couldn't speak.
	Joe brushed away the crumbs on his lap. "You've never seen The
Elephant Men in performance, have you Andy?."  I shook my head
dumbly.
	"We move among the audience of little kids and sit with them , and dance
with them, and take them on our laps and in the cart JJ drags around."
	"I get the picture," I muttered.
	"All it needs is for someone to whisper to one of the mothers that I could
interfere with one of the children.bingo!  The shit hits the fan! I'd be
railroaded.  I wouldn't care about that. much. but they'd find out about
you and the mud would stick to you too."
	He was right.  So many people don't know the difference between
homosexuality and pedophilia.
	I was so angry.  "The bitch!!"  I ground out. "The unspeakable fucking
bitch!!"
	Then he kissed me, very very gently.  ""If it comes to a choice between the
Elephant Men and you, guess who wins - hands down!"

	They say that love can be measured by what you are prepared to give up
for it.  Joe truly humbled me.  For me, he has given up his actor friends,
his career, and his family.  What have I given up for him?  First go at the
shaving mirror in the morning!!

_	So. He gave up his family.  Tell us about that.

_	Joe is a son of the Bible Belt.  His family is very large, as people like to
say, widely extended.  They're bound together by Fundamentalist
Christian values and ultra-conservative politics.  God knows how such a
family gave birth to a guy like Joe.

_	What's your background?

_	As you can probably tell from my accent, I'm Australian though Joe tells
me I have an English accent.  I tell him he's the one with the accent.
	My heritage is Irish Catholic Australian, if you can imagine such a breed.
Although Australians and Americans have a lot in common, there is one
vast, almost irreconcilable difference - Australia was founded as a penal
colony: America was founded on religion.  Consequently Australians have
a distrust of authority and authoritarian religion bred into them, while
everything in America is a religious experience.  This may seem to have
nothing to do with Joe and me, but it explains why I wasn't really prepared
for Joe's family.
	When we first started living together, of course we talked about our
families and our up-bringing.  Now, I'm around fifteen years older than Joe
and my childhood was quite conservative compared to that of other
Australians of my generation, but compared to Joe's up-bringing, it was
liberality itself.  Before I came to the US, I had long since broken the
shackles to my family - they are petit bourgeois in the extreme. We've
gone our separate ways.  If we do keep in touch, it's a card at Christmas .
if that.  Joe was different.  He had spoken fondly of his family, and I
pictured them as a kind of "Little House on the Prairie" family - charming
and folksy.  They were in the country and he was in the city, so that was
that.
	When Joe's grandmother died, he got a phone call from one of his
brothers telling him and inviting him to the funeral.  Joe at first said, yes,
he'd be there but as the phone call progressed, he grew more and more
sober and then hung up.  His face was stony.  I assumed he was
saddened by the news.
	"So when's the funeral?" I said as he hung up.
	"Next week," he said, "but I don't think I'll go.  It's too far away."  I saw how
serious he was, so I said, "Joe, you were really fond of your grandmother.
You should go, for her sake and for yours."
	He burst out, in sudden distress. "I'm not going without you.  You're part of
me."
	Even then the penny didn't drop.  I said, "Joe. I'll go. I'll go.  No problem.  I
can rearrange my schedule.  I'd be proud to stand beside you."
	He just looked at me, distressed, and couldn't speak.  It was then I
twigged. "It's fucking Meredith again, isn't it?"  He nodded.  This time the
anger I felt was icy cold. "Well, well, she has been a busy little pixie."  My
face must have frightened Joe a bit, because he said hurriedly, "It's OK.  I
don't really want to go."

_ 	But you did go.?

_	Oh yes.  I was determined that that cunt wasn't going to tyrannize my Joe
any more.  We were going to go and we were going in STYLE.  I hired a
red sports Porsche for the weekend which dazzled Joe, and I had my hair
cut really short - the Alcatraz  look.  For that first appearance among the
family I wore tight sleek black - I rarely wear black. I'm more a tweedy,
chunky knit type - and I dug out a gold Rolex I never wore because I
always thought it too vulgar, and I hung gold chains around my neck.  The
look caused Joe to giggle because I looked like a Hollywood pimp.  He
took to calling me "my man".  And sun specs of course.  Joe got into the
spirit and he dressed in black too.  We looked like the Blues Brothers.
	It was great.  We roared up to the church where all the family was milling
about and created a sensation among those good, plain folk.  We got out
of the car without opening the doors and swaggered up to them, Joe
leading the way.
The stage director in me had primed Joe on his performance.  I told him,
play it straight, play it nice.. No exaggeration, just keep it normal.  His
performance only faltered once.  He said to an uncle, "Looking good, my
man!" but I caught his eye and he toned it right down.  It worked like a
charm.  The family were so relieved to find him normal in spite of having
this creature from Mars at his side,  that they were soon all chatting to him,
seemingly genuinely pleased to see him.

_	What about you?

_	I terrified them.  At first it seemed to work.  Because Joe was so normal,
and I was so . so exotic.. I thought. hoped they would take Joe back
to their hearts, and shift all the blame for Joe's errant ways to me... I was
wrong.  By mistaking the depth of malice of the family octopus, I had done
Joe the greatest disservice I could have.

_	What happened?

_	The graveside ceremony went well.  My heart swelled with pride as I
watched Joe stand with his brothers . he's the youngest . and took part
in the family rituals.  That was good.  I stood to the back of the crowd and
congratulated myself that Joe was accepted for what he was.  It was at the
party after.

_	And?

	We all crowded into the parlour of the family house . it was the kind of
house that had a parlour . and there was a lot of babble - family talking
to family or rather shouting to family.  Joe and I got separated.  I didn't
care.  I stood in a corner, ignored by everyone, drink in my hand, keeping
an eye on Joe.  I saw various members of the family come up to him and
talk to him.  I couldn't hear what was said, but Joe looked grimmer and
grimmer.  I presumed they were harping on the dead grandmother and
maybe how Joe didn't keep in touch.  A little thoughtless, I thought.  But
Joe was starting to look distressed and had turned pale, so I thought -
something's not right here.  Then I guessed.  Each one was telling Joe
what they thought of him, and how disgusting he was.  It was death by a
thousand cuts.  I roused myself to intervene, but I was halted by a surly
voice.
	"Hey mister.  Are you the fruit?"
	I looked down to the speaker, a boy of about eleven or twelve who was
sneering at me.
	So I answered: "Yep.  A big one.  A water melon."
	He said: "You give me a hundred dollars or I'll tell my paw you tried to
suck my dick."
	I was stunned.  I just stared at him.
	"A hundred dollars," he sneered.
	Something snapped.  I crouched down to his level.  I lowered my voice
dramatically.  "Tell you what.  I'll give you five hundred dollars if you suck
my dick."
	You should have seen his face. It lit up like a Christmas tree. I was
thoroughly disgusted.
	"I thought so, you little shit head.  Piss off."  I stood up and looked to Joe.
A fat aunt approached him with a cream cake in her hand. "Hey, Joe," she
called in a loud penetrating voice, "this is for you." And she deliberately
smashed it over the chest of his suit.  "Oops!  Butter fingers.  Here, I'll fix
it."  She too out a little pink lacy handkerchief and quickly smeared the
cake all over him, then tucked the handkerchief into one of his pockets.
"Here, darling.  You keep it.  It's too girlie for me."  There was loud derisive
laughter from everyone.  Joe stood rigid with shock and embarrassment.
	I was at his elbow.  "Come on Joe.  Time to go."  I lead the humiliated Joe
outside.  Thank God they were afraid of me.  The crowd parted and we
walked free.  I looked at their faces.  They had the look of a lynch mob,
and as we walked to the car there was a low guttural growl from them, like
a savage beast waking up to kill.
	Joe moved like a man in a dream.  We made it to the car unhindered,
though I was half-expecting to be pelted with bottles.  Someone had
written FAG on the car in what looked like whipped cream or shaving
foam.
	I roared down the highway.  I was frightened for Joe.  He looked deathly
white and seemed almost catatonic.  The first chance I got, I pulled off the
highway on to the verge.  I ripped off that hated tight black shirt I was
wearing and used it to try feverishly to clean the graffiti off the car.  Then I
yanked Joe from the car and stood there, holding him tight, all the time
saying, "Joe, I'm sorry.  I'm sorry."  And sometimes "Say something Joe.
Say something."  At last, the dam broke and he started to cry.  No.  He
didn't cry.  He didn't sob.  He didn't weep.  He bawled.  He bawled like a
child, great heartfelt gulps of anguish of such . desolation that I never
wish to hear it again in my life.  No one - and I don't care who they are or
what they've done - should be made to feel such desolation.  So we stood
there, him crying and me pathetically trying to comfort him.  And while he
cried out his humiliation and anguish, there was a cold knot of hatred
developing in my guts.  At that moment, if I had had the means - a
machine gun or something - I would have gone back and exterminated
the whole tribe for what they did to my Joe.
	We stayed like that for about twenty minutes.  To passing motorists it must
have looked quite odd: a red sports smeared with white goo beside the
road; two men beside it in a clinch, one a half naked middle aged man, the
other younger, but crying.
	Finally, the flood dried up.  He gave a watery chuckle and said, "I'm sorry."
I was so very glad to have him back I gently kissed him and said, "There's
nothing to be sorry for." And I gently pushed him into the car and we left
Joe's family forever.

_	Forever?

_	As far as I'm concerned, forever.  I vowed that they would never again
meet Joe unless he himself particularly requested it.

_	So that was that.

_	You'd think so, wouldn't you.  You'd think that they would want to cut Joe
completely from their lives. But no.  About a week later, there was a phone
call.  Joe was out, so I took it.
	"Is Joe there?"  I was instantly suspicious.
	"Who shall I say is calling?"
	"This is Wade, his brother.  Can I speak to Joe."
	"No you can't - and don't call again."  And I hung up.
	I told Joe later what I'd said and his only comment was: "Good."

_	Did this happen often?

_	A few times.  The last one I took.  It was his mother.  I looked at Joe and
he just shook his head.  I hung up.  And that, as they say, was that.  So
Joe now had no family except me.  No career.  No friends.  No family.  All
for me.  A little frightening.

_	So what of the future?

_	Well, like I said, we've been together now for nearly six years.  It's been at
least five years of complete, fulfilled and unalloyed happiness.  Not many
couples, gay or straight can claim that.  We seem closer now than we ever
were.  I cannot see myself ever tiring of Joe.  Custom cannot stale his
infinite variety - Shakespeare again.
	All the time I was in the US, before I met Joe, I always intended to return
home one day - to Australia.  Now I realize home is where Joe is, and the
urge to return to Australia seems to have disappeared.  Strangely, Joe
seems to be becoming more interested in Australia than I am, so I suspect
that maybe, in the future, we'll up stakes and move there.  We'll see.
	In the meantime, I have my Joe and I'm completely happy.