Chapter 23

Leo appreciated the fact that Jay Wilkinson was starting out so straightforward with him, but the words were still hard to hear.

“I think we would both agree that this AIDS Crisis has made it that much harder to reach out to people,” he was saying as the two of them were sitting together on Leo’s sofa in the camelback. They were not holding hands. “I don’t necessarily agree with the sentiment, but there are those out there who are starting to say that dating is a death sentence. Who knows what’s safe anymore? They say it’s not airborne, and you have to exchange bodily fluids to get it, but you hear something different every day. The photos they show of people who are sick are frightening.”

“But we aren’t dating, Jay. We’re just meeting for the first time, and from what your sister has told me about you, I was expecting more of an optimistic outlook.”

Jay looked surprised, then amused. “Ah, I see. So does cautious optimism count?”

Leo was relieved by the humorous retort. This lean, dark-haired young man with the delicate features and darting eyes was capable of more than one note after all. That might be a beginning.

“My usual procedure when I have people over is to treat them to dinner and a concert, but the order is strictly up to you,” Leo said, pointing to his spinet across the way.

“Would it be rude of me to ask what we’re having?”

“Not at all. My famous baked spaghetti. But be forewarned—my menu is limited, and I’m no gourmet chef.”

“I’m sure you underestimate yourself. Wine me up again and serenade me,” Jay said, his mood lifting noticeably.

This time around, Leo had chosen Paul Francis Webster and Sammy Fain’s score for their adaptation of the film, Calamity Jane, which starred Doris Day. First he sang “Higher Than A Hawk”, worked in “The Deadwood Stage” and finished with “My Secret Love”.

After a hearty round of applause, Jay said, “You must have had professional training with that beautiful voice.”

Leo turned around on the piano bench and beamed. “Just my Granny Marble’s music school back in Beau Pre. Actually, my voice just appeared one day while I was listening to Steve Lawrence on the radio. It just needed a little fine-tuning after that.”

“Steve Lawrence as in Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gorme?”

“The very same. He was singing ‘Go Away Little Girl,’ and suddenly it turned into a duet.”

“I have that 45 at home. I used to sing along with it, too. Such a teenage infatuation love song.”

“Your sister said you had quite the collection.” Leo moved quickly to join him on the sofa again as the pace of their exchange accelerated and the enthusiasm in their voices grew more evident.

“All my favorites starting with just before puberty in 1958. My first slow dance was with a girl named Audrey to the Platters’ version of ‘Smoke Gets In Your Eyes.’ I had far more interest in the music than I did the girl. She never knew that, of course. I was always polite.”

“That’s such familiar territory,” Leo said. “Did you do a lot of camouflage dating?”

“Of course. It was a chore. But I didn’t do it all that long. I sat down one evening and told Angelle about myself, and she’s been supporting me ever since. She wouldn’t let me go on with the facade and even helped me come out to our parents. I guess they were upset at first, but they eventually came around. I don’t think parents are ever prepared to hear something like that.”

“Same with mine. I’ve since found out that some people aren’t so lucky. They can get disowned and kicked out of the house, but that didn’t happen to either one of us. So we should be thankful for that, plus we’re nearly the same age,” Leo said, Angelle having already filled him in on such details.

“I like to think of it as the same point of origin. We don’t need footnotes to have a conversation.”

“Interesting way of putting it.” Then Leo didn’t see why they couldn’t start playing the game. “What are some of your other pop favorites?”

“From high school?”

“Sure, why not?”

“‘Any Day Now’ by Chuck Jackson. 1962.”

“Love it. Let’s take turns,” Jay said. “You go.”

“‘Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me’ by Mel Carter. 1964.”

Jay gasped. “I think I want that played at my funeral. I can even see myself jumping up out of the coffin to sing it.”

Leo laughed, and it felt like something tangible was floating up out of his body, off his shoulders and up to the ceiling where he looked up and banished it with his eyes.

“Did you like the Fifth Dimension as much as I did?” he said, his emotions soaring now. “From the first time I heard them, I felt like they really had taken me up in their beautiful balloon.”

Jay seemed equally transformed. “Yes, they blew me away, too. But not just with the obvious ones like ‘Up, Up And Away.’ I kept on listening to album after album and became more partial to ‘Workin’ On A Groovy Thing,’ ‘Wedding Bell Blues,’ ‘Stoned Soul Picnic,’ ‘The Girl’s Song’ and numbers like that.”

“Ditto.”

“Marilyn McCoo was the soul of that group.”

They were both hooked now, and Jay said, “How about the Bacharach, David, and Dionne Warwick collaboration? Those were my college years at Boston College.”

“Mine, too, but at Sewanee. I had to resist the urge to tell my choirmaster, Mr. Markham, that all the Bacharach, David, and Warwick hits were what we should have been singing at All Saints instead of all those stuffy hymns,” Leo added. “I felt like saying, ‘There’s more than one way of praising the universe. Why not “I Say A Little Prayer For You”?’”

“Perfect. I had a college friend who described Dionne’s voice as the ‘one that keeps on singing and never stops,’” Jay added. Then he started mouthing the lyrics along with the melody to “You’ll Never Get To Heaven If You Break My Heart,” and Leo joined him.

They sounded good together as they settled into a rhythm complete with hand gestures, and at the end of the song, Leo said, “I could do this all day and then stay up all night for much more.”

“You’re just gonna have to come over to my apartment sometime and listen to your heart’s content,” Jay said. “Music was meant for more than one.”

“And I just can’t quit this game,” Leo said. “What about the Carpenters? ‘Rainy Days and Mondays’ still does it for me.”

“Karen’s contralto voice gives me the shivers. The good way, of course.”

“And Chicago?”

“‘Beginnings,’ of course. The long album version. Best brass section ever.”

Leo snapped his fingers. “Herb Alpert. ‘This Guy’s In Love With You.’ 1968. Almost forgot that one among my musical treasures.”

“Best slow-dance record ever. I was starting up with a guy by then. His name was Barrett, but everybody called him Bingo. We had a secret thing going in the dorm at BC,” Jay said. “I must say, no one ever knew because we always locked the doors when we slow-danced together. That’s actually all we did. I always thought Herb Alpert was singing just to the two of us.”

Leo had to make an effort to push memories of Greg and graduation at Sewanee out of the way by changing subjects quickly. “Well, I think it’s time to put my baked spaghetti to the test.”

“Listen,” Jay said, “I can forgive anything except bad taste in music. I’m sure I’ll be a big fan.”

There came a time after dinner when comparing musical favorites came to an end, but the silence had a poignancy of its own. The two were content to just sit there on the sofa, reflecting on all that they had shared in such a short time. This time they were holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes.

Finally, Jay spoke up. “I just wanted to say that I never for one minute thought of this as a fix-up.”

“Me neither.”

“My sister generally knows her way around most everything,” Jay continued. “She’s a woman of many talents.”

Leo nodded enthusiastically. “She’s the best hire I ever made. Not only that, she’s helped Chase become the best photographer he could possibly be. In this case, there is a great woman behind the man.”

“I like Chase,” Jay said. “I think he’d make a fine brother-in-law. He’s cool with everything he needs to be cool with. He’s been around.”

Leo couldn’t help himself. “Are you saying that marriage is in the works? I can’t seem to get anything out of your sister.”

“Maybe. She’ll probably wake up one morning and decide that that’s what she wants, and Chase doesn’t know it yet, but he’ll have to go along with it. On some level, he probably already knows that.” Jay paused and conjured up his best smile. “So, about my record collection. Would you like to come over and listen to it sometime? Maybe next week even?”

“I think that can be arranged.” Then Leo laughed. There was something strange and surprising about it, and he elaborated. “You can also explain to me your fascination with calculus, or so your sister says. I got a D at Sewanee. Absolutely hated the class. To this day, I have no idea what that little squiggly thing is, but since I’m told you solve calculus problems for entertainment purposes, maybe you can help me finally understand it. Those equations are hardly what I’d call relaxing.”

Jay suddenly assumed a professorial demeanor. “All I can say is that the two of them make sense to me in the same way. Music and math, I mean. They’re part of the same universal language. I find nothing inconsistent about the fact that I crave certain types of music and certain types of math. They make me feel complete, like I belong in the universe.”

“My grandmother got a double-major in music and math at Randolph-Macon,” Leo said, searching for common ground. “I seem to have inherited the music part, but not the math.”

“Ah, well,” Jay added, “we’re all different. I’ve never embraced the virtue of sameness. I think it’s rather lazy.”

There was another brief period of silence, after which Leo leaned in and said, “Do you think we might kiss each other gently on the cheek? I’m a little skittish because of all the uncertainty out there about AIDS and how you can get it. I guess I’ve become paranoid to some extent.”

Jay did not answer. Instead, the two men drew closer, ever closer, until they had met the challenge in as soft and tender a manner as possible. Then they pulled back slowly and smiled. A first step. A baby step.

More exploratory questions followed after several more exploratory kisses, while they maintained constant contact with an arm here and a leg there. Eventually, they looked more like a pretzel than two men getting to know each other better on a sofa.

“When did you know for sure?” Leo said, locking onto Jay’s eyes. “I’ve already told you about my so-called affair with Charles Atlas.”

Jay didn’t answer right away, almost looking like a little boy trying to solve a riddle. “Not as young as you were, but maybe around ten or eleven.”

Leo smiled, nodding enthusiastically. “Did anything or anyone trigger it?”

“James Dean.”

“Wow!”

Jay’s expression now conveyed a hint of mischief. “Angelle and I had gone to the movies to see Rebel Without A Cause, and afterward, we compared notes. Turned out, we both said we had a crush on James Dean.”

“I guess you know the skinny on him is that he was supposedly gay.”

“So I’ve read. Do you think there’s actually something operational out there like gaydar that helps us identify one another?”

“Maybe. I think more often we rely upon ordinary introductions; however we can get them. Like this one your sister arranged for us.”

Jay’s face was serene as he exhaled gently. “Yep. As I said, she always knows what she’s doing, believe me. Anyhoo, that was the beginning of my sister becoming my biggest advocate, especially when the two of us told my parents when we got into our teens. Any time they had some prickly point to make—and the worst was, ‘What did we do wrong?’—she had a soothing answer ready. She was like aloe vera for the wounds they were carrying around and got us all over the hump. I’ll forever be indebted to her for that.”

One month later, Leo and Jay, Mara, Terrence, Pauly and the rest of the Coalition were packed into the Metropolitan Community Church, numbed by George Kinsey’s death but paying tribute to him the only way they could now. His friends had buried him out there, and now there was nothing left for his New Orleans friends than the many testimonials to how one George Thomas Kinsey had touched people’s lives. Coalition members were far from the only ones who showed up for the memorial service. There were many of his long-time clients, other hairdressers, and everyday friends he had made through daily life in a diverse and welcoming city.

Among those, the most touching were the comments of Mrs. Agnes Underwood, a petite woman pushing seventy, who stood before the group and touted his skills in making her comfortable throughout the most difficult period of her life.

“I had started to undergo chemo for breast cancer a while back and had lost all my hair, including my eyebrows,” she began. “Then, George transformed me.” She pointed to her head. “Yes, this mass of blonde curls is a wig, but George made me feel that it had put down roots and started a family. To be honest with you, I had never looked better, even though I’d never felt worse.” She paused and traced her brows with her index fingers. “Then, he told me that no one could draw on eyebrows like he could. So he taught me how to do it right. ‘Too many people end up looking like clowns or Snow White’s Wicked Stepmother, Miz Underwood,’ he would say to me. ‘Too much Mirror-Mirror-On-The-Wall going on out there. Subtlety is the key. Less is more.’ Although I have to say that there was nothing subtle about George. He always got to the point quickly with a zinger that you’d never forget. I’d always walk out of Long May She Wave feeling like I’d just received an extra Social Security check, or at least had gotten a kick-up-your-heels, free floor show.”

“That was our George,” Mara said, as the polite applause started up. “His very own Ed Sullivan act.”

Later, Mara took Leo aside during the reception which followed and said, “I’m happy that George didn’t die alone out there and that we can do this little bit for him here. I know he’d want us to have some sorta closure.”

Leo gave Mara a heart-felt hug and said, “Thank you for helping him to belong. He had a lot to give.”

“Yes, he did. People would come into the salon on their first visit, get hooked and ask for him all the time.”

Leo began to form a word with his lips but then backed down, making a grim slash instead.

“Were you going to say something?” Mara said.

“I was… it was just that George never talked about having anyone in his life. Was there ever anyone?”

Mara sighed plaintively. “George and I were a lot alike. We both got badly burned early on in relationships. I know I’ve been skittish ever since. The woman I was involved with left me not for another woman, but for a man. That was really hard to take. George didn’t give me many details about his man that got away, the one Judy Garland sang about so eloquently, but I don’t think he ever recovered from it. Yet, somehow he came down with AIDS. Go figure. Maybe we’re better off not knowing how that happened.”

Leo’s expression was distant, as if he were not even in the room. “I think that’s true of a lot of things.”

When Leo and Jay returned to the camelback to console each other further, they both remained largely silent, trying to make sense of things as they sat on the sofa.

Finally, Leo came to life. “I’m gonna write a letter to Lake about all this. He always gave me such good advice. It’s been a while since I’ve heard from him anyway.”

After Leo had finished the letter at his desk, he returned to Jay and said, “We just can’t be ruled by fear this way, sweetheart. We aren’t promiscuous. We’re practically celibate by some accounts, but this is no way to live. We’re too cautious.”

“I know,” Jay told him. “It’s just that George was a grim reminder of what could happen if you’re not careful.”

“But we are.”

Then they gently kissed each other on the lips. There was in the gesture a measure of both affection and defiance, and there was an innocence to it that nothing could spoil.

Leo had begun to worry when Lake didn’t reply to his letter right away. His former teacher was usually so prompt. He did not want to entertain his darkest thoughts, and a long-distance phone call might expose him to an immediate shock from which it would be difficult to recover. Instead, he plunged himself into his work at the magazine with Chase and Angelle and tried to stay on an even keel emotionally with Jay.

Meanwhile, there was no breakthrough to report on the AIDS epidemic front, except that Terrence confirmed that more cases had appeared throughout the New Orleans area over the last few months. Bars and discos were taking a big hit as regulars made it clear to owners here and there that they didn’t want to take chances. Some people began to feel stalked by an invisible enemy.

It was with great relief, therefore, when Leo came home from work one evening to find a letter with Lake’s return address waiting for him in the mailbox. He trudged up the stairs with it, caught between the twin urges of wanting to tear it open immediately and hold it at arm’s length indefinitely. But finally, he summoned his courage and began reading:

My Dear Leo,

Forgive my tardiness in replying to your long, thoughtful letter. Ignacio’s mother has been extremely ill with pneumonia, and we have been intensely involved with seeing that she gets the utmost care while visiting her in the hospital. The prognosis looks good, however, and Ignacio is greatly relieved. Mama Delgado is one of a kind, and we don’t want to lose her.

Here in Mexico, the incidence of AIDS is lower than in the US, but it has arrived nonetheless in certain populations. Needless to say, Ignacio and I are not at risk because we have always been faithful to each other, which I’m sure is the case with you and Jay. However, I have a delightful suggestion for the two of you, courtesy of Ignacio. You make an event of it, a big splash, as you will see. It is guaranteed to take your mind off AIDS and HIV and all the rest of it while keeping you perfectly safe. There are actually two versions of it that you and Jay can try. The first is la ducha segura and the second is la espuma de jabon segura.

The first is translated as the safe shower. The second is: the safe soap suds or a roundabout way of saying bubble bath.

Let me explain further. In the first, the two of you take a shower together, just in case you haven’t already done so. I can’t imagine that you haven’t. If not, though, what are you waiting for? Warm water falling down upon your heads and warm flesh against warm flesh. The constant friction, of course, does the trick, and you are perfectly safe. In the second, you can immerse yourselves in a bubble bath or indulge a good soaping up underwater, and all is well. You are fresh and clean, and you have been intimate without taking any risk. I highly recommend either of these measures, and I believe you and Jay will start to feel better about your lot in life. By all means, do not get down in the dumps, and don’t let fear of AIDS keep you up at night. Above all, don’t abandon each other because of all the grim news. True, it’s yet another challenge that you and I have to face, but we are survivors.

Now, tell me honestly: who can take issue with a good, old-fashioned bubble bath? Hasn’t it been a symbol of wholesome sex since forever?

Love always, Lake (y Ignacio)

Indeed, who could take issue? Soapsuds in the sink. Louisa Marble bathing her little Buddha there. The warmth, the wetness. One of his earliest memories returning to the fold of awareness.

Leo let Jay read the letter the following evening, and when he finished, he started laughing. “Are we the dullest gay couple ever? I think maybe we are. Why didn’t we think of this? It sounds great. So relaxing.”

“Doesn’t it?”

Jay pointed quickly to the bathroom. “Do you have any bubble bath crystals in there?”

“Bought some at K & B’s on the way home from work today. I had the distinct feeling it might come in handy.”

“Then let’s get to it. Let’s take an honest-to-goodness bubble bath in honor of Lake, Ignacio, ourselves and the dear, departed George, shall we?”

They lost no time in disrobing, after which Leo poured the crystals into the warm water rushing out of the spout and wedged the stopper into the drain. Soon, the bathtub had a head on it like an enormous vat of beer, and the two of them had settled in carefully at either end, tickling each other’s feet for good measure.

Sounding like two little boys immersed in their own little world of horseplay, they began to engage in the submarine activity Lake had described, and their laughter eventually turned into great sighs of relief. The aftermath of soaking in silence seemed heaven-sent.

“That does it. I’ve made a momentous decision. We ought to move in together,” Leo said out of nowhere.

Jay pushed aside a frothy cluster of bubbles and said, “Really? In my place or yours?”

“Mine. The spinet’s too much trouble. It took Werlein’s forever to get it up the stairs years ago. I was a nervous wreck the whole time. I don’t even want to contemplate the trip down for my precious baby.”

“Are you sure we’re ready for this?”

“We’ve been too cautious. I told you Lake would give me some great advice. I say you move in with me, and we start really living.”

Jay sat up a bit, his head now completely out of the water. “What about your landlords and your lease? You’d have to add me on, wouldn’t you? And, to be blunt about it, who would I be? Just your roommate or more?”

The question nearly destroyed Leo’s afterglow. “I hadn’t thought of that. Damn!”

“What kind of people are they?”

“Quiet, retired, sweet-natured. The wife, Susie, treats me almost like I’m her son.”

“Is she ready for a gay son?”

Leo looked annoyed. “I wish we didn’t have to take these things into consideration. I pride myself on being out and proud and all that, but does Susie Landry have to know everything?”

“Then just tell her I’m your roommate. Or better yet, your cousin or brother or some other kind of relative. That usually goes over well. Nothing controversial about that.”

“I guess that’s the best way to go,” Leo said, sighing. “I like living here, and the Landrys really are great landlords. When things need fixing, they get fixed right away. And I’ve treated them to many a recital at the spinet, which they love. I guess I should keep things the way they are and not regard this as an opportunity to make a political statement.”

“Everything doesn’t have to be. The upside is that you and I can go to bed together every night, and with your spinet and my records, we can have a sing-along around the clock.”

“And if you get tired of that at any time, you can trot out your calculus textbook and solve more of those squiggly problems of yours.”

“Infinity,” Jay said authoritatively. “I told you that squiggly thing represents infinity. The mathematical term is lemniscate. If you’d like for me to explain further…”

“Spare me, sweetheart. I’ll never get to where you’re going in a million years. Trust me.”

Leo and Jay decided on cousin status for the lease, rather than brother, because of the drastic difference in hair color, and fortunately, the Landrys gave Leo no trouble in adding on another person. In fact, Susie Landy was effusive in her praise when she was introduced.

“Imagine. Susie and Gabe Landry having the weekend weatherman living right above us,” she said, clasping her hands together. “You look just like you look on TV, only much taller. We swear by what you say. We call you our Umbrella Man, don’t we, Gabe?”

He nodded dutifully with a smile and said, “Yes we do, honey. We never leave the house without your forecasts.”

“Jay also sings,” Leo added. “He’ll add a lot to my recitals.”

And thus, while the Landrys suspected nothing, Leo Marble and Jay Wilkinson officially became a cohabiting couple.