Chapter 12

Over the next few years, Leo adjusted to the rhythms and patterns of the Crescent City while honing his craft at the magazine. At the same time, he considered his sessions at the piano with his show tunes to be nothing if not therapeutic; and the Landrys never turned down the recitals he rehearsed for them every now and then. In return, Susie would knock on his door and present him with a covered plate of homemade Napoleons, which he adored.

“You need to put some weight on,” she would always say to him. “These’ll help.”

Venturing out of his apartment when the mood struck him, Leo knew that there were plenty of bars and discos in the Quarter where gay men like himself could go to meet, drink, dance and possibly get involved with each other. The jumping off point for almost all of them was eleven o’clock in the evening or even after midnight. That was a separate world that came to life from then until dawn, full of loud music, layers of smoke and liquor in the veins. Joining the Coalition enabled Leo to familiarize himself with their locations and what kind of clientele they were set up to serve.

Midnight in Motion featured a gigantic, metallic ball that rotated on its high ceiling and threw off bits and pieces of the rainbow as its patrons worked out to Barry White, Diana Ross and Love Unlimited on the darkened dance floor below. It became Leo’s favorite place for the occasional night out because it allowed him to work up a sweat without committing himself to anything further. In addition to being a good singer, he was a dancer with many moves that others envied. But they misunderstood if they thought Leo was ‘advertising.’

Nevertheless, he still hadn’t found anyone who came close to stirring up the feelings he had begun developing for Greg at Sewanee. Perhaps it was the letters he continued to receive from Kenya that kept him from pursuing anyone on this side of the pond. Those letters were full of enthusiasm about simple projects like digging trenches and learning how to give injections to school children and a host of other ordinary things that Americans took for granted:

I can’t get enough of this, Leo. It’s difficult to explain, but the smiles I get are my big payoff. They are so grateful for our help. I truly made the right move in coming here and leaving my heartbreak behind.

Despite the great distance between them, Leo was happy that his roommate had fallen in love with his job, with Kenya, itself, possibly more than he could with any single person; and there were far fewer mentions of the friendship they had barely begun to explore at Sewanee.

Meanwhile, Leo was finding an equal amount of contentment with his assignments at the magazine and even daring to entertain the possibility of becoming the editor, replacing Arthur LeBlanc somewhere down the line. Of course, Three-H had seniority over him in that regard, and he didn’t relish the idea of having to report to him and to endure even more long-winded family updates. More often than not, he tried to stay in the moment and let things unfold.

Then came that extraordinary visit to Midnight in Motion one night. “Love’s Theme” was playing over the sound system, and Leo was standing on the fringes watching the dancers while he nursed a club soda with a slice of lime floating in it. A couple of epic, bourbon-spiked, eggnog hangovers at Sewanee had convinced him that alcohol was not his friend. Nor was sleeping in his dorm room with a trash can nearby something he wanted to experience again. He could take it or leave it, so leave it, he did. He was focused on a young woman who was dressed exactly like Alice of Lewis Carroll’s literary masterpiece, and she was slow dancing with a man wearing a top hat in the manner of the Mad Hatter. Or maybe it wasn’t a man, but another woman dressed like a man. Whatever the case, they made an interesting couple, and one of Alice’s most famous comments popped into Leo’s head.

Curiouser and curiouser.

He was completely mesmerized by the two of them until someone tapped him on the shoulder from behind. Turning around quickly, he was astonished to discover Three-H standing there with a longneck in his hand.

Over the music and the noise of the throng, Leo said, “What are you doing here?”

“I might ask the same of you, but I already know the answer,” came the reply. “I saw you from across the room a few minutes ago, and at first I thought about leaving so you wouldn’t even know I was here. But then I thought, ‘what the hell! My dream has come true.’”

Straining to hear in his compromised ear, Leo said, “Do you want to move to someplace quieter? The dance floor is tough competition.”

So they headed to a large special room off to one side of the bar where people could have conversations without yelling and possibly get to know each other better. There were already two couples there when they entered, both male. One consisting of a white guy and a black guy, was seated on a sofa in a far corner, holding hands and making intense eye contact; the other couple—two very tall white guys wearing boots and leather vests—was standing in an opposite corner and engaged in a liplock.

Leo and Three-H found a spot on another empty sofa, and the conversation picked up where they had left off.

“What did you mean about your dream coming true?” Leo said.

“You mean you honestly didn’t know I’ve had a crush on you all this time?”

Leo drew back, honestly puzzled. “How would I know that? You’ve never said anything to me, and all I’ve ever heard from you when you come up to me is raves about your wife and daughter. By the way, are they made up?”

Three-H took a swig of his beer and suppressed a small belch. “No, Lydia and Hannah are real. I’m very much married. But it isn’t what it appears to be. I’ve always liked the boys from the get-go. I just did what my parents expected of me, mostly for social reasons. My parents and hers considered it a match made in heaven, and they’d been oohing and aahing about it since Lydia and I were in high school and started going out. I was just trying to fit in, and Lydia was naive—still is to some extent. She thinks the amount of sex we don’t have is normal.”

For some reason, Leo decided to pluck his lime slice from his drink and suck on it briefly before returning it to its bubbly little bath. The puckering sensation somehow enabled him to steady himself, and he pressed on. “So you’re saying you have a marriage of convenience?”

“To an extent. I do love my wife in my way and my daughter as a father is supposed to. Don’t get me wrong.”

“You talk about them enough. So, do they know about you?”

“No, and I want to keep it that way.”

“Then why did you take a chance and reveal yourself to me? As you said, you could have left without my ever knowing you were here.”

Three-H managed a wink, which Leo found disarming. “Like I said, I’ve been dreaming about how nice it would be if you were my boyfriend… on the side, of course.” He finished off his beer and set the bottle down on the floor, but it didn’t stay balanced and fell over. He made no attempt to set it upright, however, and watched it roll a short distance before coming to a halt. Only then, did he continue. “What I’m trying to tell you is that I’ve had my eye on you since you came to work for the paper. In a perfect world, I thought to myself, you would be just like I am, and now, here you are.”

“Yes, here I am.”

“Do you come here often?”

“Do you?”

Three-H narrowed his eyes. “I don’t get the chance that often. Lydia has to be out of town visiting relatives and Hannah has to be at somebody’s house for one of those girlfriend sleepovers, you know. Otherwise, I’d have to account for my whereabouts if they were around. I’m extremely good at doing that, I have to say.”

Leo took another sip of his club soda and decided to tackle things head-on. “This is beyond ironic. Here I was thinking that Chase might be the one in the closet. He was the one I thought was hiding something.”

Three-H nudged him playfully with his elbow. “I know his story. Don’t ask me how I found out. It’s complicated, but it’s the truth. He doesn’t know I know that he’s been having an affair with a married woman for years; and she’s highly placed in social circles just like I am. In other words, she keeps him in a fashion as payment for services rendered. Her husband, it seems, just can’t perform for whatever reasons.”

Leo decided not to hold anything back. “And is that what you’re proposing to do with me?”

“You have to understand that I never thought I’d be having this conversation. It was in the ‘too good to be true’ category. Maybe I’m still a little giddy that it’s actually happened.”

“That may be, but you didn’t answer the question.”

It took Three-H a while to respond. “It would have to be by mutual agreement, of course. These things usually are.”

“That would be a no-go. I’m sorry to inform you that what you are proposing would be completely one-sided. As certain shallow people are fond of saying in the gay subculture, ‘You’re not my type.’ Not that I would consider the arrangement even if you were.”

“That’s pretty brutal,” he said, his dark eyes downcast. “I was hoping for a friendly arrangement of some kind. That’s the only reason I decided to tap you on the shoulder.”

“Sorry, but I see no reason to beat around the bush. I spent too much time in the closet to play games at this point in my life. Let’s confine our friendship to work.”

The silence that followed was awkward. Some might have even called it painful. Finally, Three-H said, “Will you… keep my secret? I’ve sorta crawled out on a limb here. It took all my courage to even approach you.”

Names and words moved along the front of Leo’s brain like a ticker tape: Lt. Joseph Marble… Wickey… Pacific Theater… dark rum and dark secrets never to be revealed…

“Don’t worry,” Leo replied with the suggestion of a grin. “I understand exactly who you are, believe me, and I could have been exactly where you are as well if not for getting fed up and taking a stand. Let’s just agree that this clandestine meeting of ours never happened. I think that’ll be best.”

“Sorry that it can’t be otherwise.”

“I’m not.” Then Leo softened his tone a bit. “I guess you wouldn’t consider coming to one of our Gay Resources Coalition meetings. I’ve found it to be a very helpful support group since I joined a few years back. All kinds of people come to sort things out. You’d be surprised.”

Three-H made a sweeping gesture. “This is about as brave as I’ll get. Although I will admit that I know about your group and I even called up that helpline once a couple of years ago. I described my situation completely… but anonymously. I did find it therapeutic, but as you can clearly see, I haven’t done a damned thing about it.”

Leo searched his brain quickly. “You probably didn’t talk to me. I might have recognized your voice unless you were trying to disguise it. You probably talked to Terrence, our founder, or someone else. But believe me, the married man with the gay lover on the side is far more common than you’d think, especially here in New Orleans. Kinda like the married man with the mistress on the side. Lots of people out there who want to have their cake and eat it, too.”

“Like the married woman with the stud on the side like our Chase?” Three-H added with a wink.

Leo’s chuckle was pleasant enough. “Looks like the staff of Sunday is full of secrets which we all intend to respect.”

Three-H thanked him, gave him an awkward hug and then left the room, disappearing into the energetic throng.

Not long after that, Leo received another letter from Greg. Oddly, it didn’t surprise him since he had been reading between the lines for a while. To some extent, it was even a relief:

… and what I discovered was that I had been holding back out of loyalty to you. Or really, my memories of all that. Sewanee was all very sweet and innocent. Top 40 hits in the dark in separate beds. But when I met Yaro, I knew there was something real there. I think at first he was as reluctant to get involved with a white man as I was to allow my feelings to develop for a native Kenyan. But his skills as a primary teacher broke down all those reservations we had about each other. When I watched him with the schoolchildren in the classroom, the past suddenly didn’t seem so important anymore. The way their faces lit up when he got through to them on something or other. I hope you’ll understand that this new development doesn’t lessen my affection for you, Leo. We’ll always be dear friends. But we live so far apart in different worlds and have for several years. I’m just going to let this happen, even though Yaro and I have to be very careful. Homosexual behavior here is a punishable offense. People have been jailed or even killed. So, what else is new? Yaro could lose his job teaching if he were found out. One or the other of us will rent a cheap hotel room here in Nairobi, and then the other will sneak in later. We can’t afford to be seen together in my Peace Corps digs or his place the way people talk over here. Your letters about New Orleans make America seem like it’s light years ahead, but I know that’s not universally true…

Greg had enclosed a selection of photos of Yaro: here was one with him standing at the blackboard in his classroom. On the back were the words printed in block letters: MY BEAUTIFUL MAN, YARO PALA. Another showed him leaning on a hoe in the middle of a patch of dirt. YARO IN HIS SHAMBA (VEG. GARDEN) read the inscription on the other side. The Kenyan was tall, muscular, and lean with a wide, confident smile, and Leo could see why Greg had fallen for him. At the same time, it was obvious that Greg was moving on with his life emotionally and was no longer tied to something that had never even gotten off the ground; even though he and Yaro were risking everything by plunging into their love for each other.

Leo wrote back immediately and gave his complete blessing without hesitation, even though Greg hadn’t asked for it. It was very liberating, but he felt compelled to add a P.S:

Promise me you and Yaro will continue to be careful.