First day on campus, Freshman Day, and of course it was nothing but confusion for me. The campus was huge, the streets bewildering. Like all eastern cities Pittsburgh doesn’t actually have streets, just paved-over cow paths. I didn’t think I’d ever remember where everything was. After living in Ebensburg, Pennsylvania, the real world came as a shock.
My dorm room was miles too small. They had me in with another jock, a guy named Norm Pulaski, who played baseball. The first thing he said to me when I found the room was, “Boy, you sure have a lot of books.”
“Silly me. They told me this was a college.”
“It is.” My sarcasm was lost on him. I made up my mind then and there to get my own place as soon as I could. Freshmen were required to live in the dorms; after that… Sophomore year couldn’t come soon enough to suit me.
“You a swimmer?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“You a fag?”
I did a double take. “What did you say?”
“Nothing, I guess. Just don’t try no fag stuff in here.”
I put on a big phony smile. “Well, okay, but you’ll have to promise not to read any of my books.”
He gaped at me. I got my keyboard out of its case, set it on its stand and plugged it in. It sounded fine.
“You gonna play that here?”
“This is my room, too, Norm. I have to practice.”
“I don’t like listening to concertos and stuff.” He pronounced it con-sert-os.
I decided to ignore his rudeness and try to be helpful; he needed it. “We’re supposed to go to orientation.”
“I’m not gonna bother with that shit.”
“Oh.”
He made another stab at jock camaraderie. “There’s a game Saturday night. You goin’?”
“No, I’m not gonna bother with that shit.”
“Fag.”
I laughed at him. He seemed not to know what to make of me, which struck me as a good thing.
“The chick I’m takin’ has a girlfriend. You want me to set you up?”
“Thanks, Norm, but I’m not gonna bother with that shit, either.”
He didn’t know what to say. He picked up one of my paperbacks and thumbed through it, puzzled, like it was an alien object.
I finished unpacking and got out of the room.
Orientation was mostly what I expected. Dull speeches, dull rules and instructions. There was a long code of student ethics; I wondered what Norm would make of it.
It was a gorgeous late summer day, which made being indoors that much worse. Then they divided us into groups of 20 so student volunteers could show us around campus. Like Norm, I was going to skip it. I had made a point of visiting the campus twice during my last year of high school, so I knew where the main buildings were, at least a bit. But the guide for our group introduced himself as Justin Hollis, a member of the diving team. I shook his hand and introduced myself.
“Good to meet you, Jamie. Why don’t I make the sports facilities the first stop on our tour?”
“I’ve already seen them.”
“Even so. It’s the only place on campus I really feel at home.” He had a sweet smile.
So we saw the Olympic size pool, the diving platforms, the gymnastics equipment, b-ball court, and on and on, even the bowling alley. Most of the students in the group were girls; they seemed happy for the chance to check out the male athletes. When we took a break it became obvious to me why Justin wanted to stop there first. He spent more than a little time with one of the gymnasts, a red-haired guy.
When we left, one of the girls in the group asked him something about a murder, or a series of them.
“We’re not supposed to talk about that.”
“Oh.”
Naturally this made me curious. I sidled up beside her and asked her what she was asking about.
“There have been some murders on and around campus. Guys. Most of them jocks, I think, and some of them in the arts.”
I had forgotten about those news stories. My curiosity was up.
“I didn’t think it would be anything to worry about, anyway, you know, but if our guides were told not to talk about it, then there must not be anything to worry about. If there was any danger they’d warn us.” She shrugged and walked over to one of her friends. They whispered something about me and giggled.
Then came the rest of the campus. One academic building after another, science labs, the fine arts building, the library, the Academic Tower, “the tallest scholastic building in the world—wait till you see it lit up at night.” There was the Z, the campus sandwich shop and general hangout. “Short for the Zone,” Justin told us. The university owned an observatory, he said, but it was off north of the city; there would be bus rides for people who want to see it. It was all pretty exhausting, and there was no way to remember it all, not that I needed to. Besides, I wanted to find Tim. But at least the weather was nice, and I did manage to find where most of my classes were.
Last of all, and with fairly obvious distaste, or maybe just disinterest, Justin took us to the University Museum. An old Gothic Revival building, the oldest on campus, he said. It looked like something out of a Hitchcock movie.
On the first two floors there were rooms full of Greek and Roman statues, medieval tapestries, Renaissance manuscripts, dinosaur skeletons, collections of butterflies on pins… We breezed through them all quickly. He told us there were classrooms on the upper floors.
In the last room we visited was a huge collection of Egyptian things. They caught my attention, for some reason. Justin made sure we all knew how to find our way back to our dorms and said the tour was over. I found myself lingering, checking out the statues.
Justin came over to me, smiling. “You interested in this stuff?”
“I don’t know. I like it, but I really don’t know anything about it.”
“I hope my tour wasn’t too boring for you.”
“No, it was fine.”
“Thanks.” I don’t think he quite believed me. “Listen, you want to get together later on? Some of us from the team are heading to the Z for burgers.”
“What time?”
“Around seven.”
“Well, maybe I’ll see you there, okay?”
He left. I found myself alone in an enormous room filled with strange things, statues of men with the heads of birds, pieces of fantastic jewelry, ancient scrolls covered with hieroglyphics, even mummified cats and birds. A framed papyrus depicted a beautiful woman with her arms outstretched; they were wings. The caption identified her as Maat, the Goddess of Truth.
There wasn’t much light, and I couldn’t see a switch for the overheads, so I checked it all out in the half-light. Somehow it seemed appropriate. The room was cool as it was dark, almost chilly. I wanted to be out looking for Tim; but something held me there, and I didn’t know what.
There was a mummy on display in a glass case. I inspected it, got as close as I could. The eyes were closed, the lips drawn back, exposing the teeth, which were rotten. The bandages were dirty and frayed. There was a layer of dust on the glass and I brushed it off with my hand. The card said his name was Sekhem-wa-Set.
“He died 3,200 years ago. He was your age.”
The voice startled me and I jumped. A man was standing in the shadows a few feet behind me. He stepped closer. I could see that he was quite striking, tall, handsome, in almost a movie star kind of way. His eyes were the deepest green I had ever seen, they showed brightly even in the dim light, and his hair was jet black. His lips were startlingly full and sensual. Pale skin, high cheekbones, he might almost have been an older relative of Tim. He was wearing jeans, sneakers and a plaid shirt.
“I thought you heard me come in. Sorry to have startled you.” He smiled.
“I’m okay.”
“I’m Professor Semenkaru. I curate the collection here.” He spoke with a slight accent, I wasn’t quite sure what kind. He took a step toward me. He was lean and graceful, almost catlike when he moved. Even through his loose clothes I could tell how muscular his body was. I decided he must have been an athlete when he was younger, maybe a gymnast. Maybe he still was. He was about 40 or so, I thought.
“I’m Jamie Dunn.”
“Freshman?” He smiled and opened a panel in the wall to turn the lights on. Soft atmospheric lighting bathed everything, including us. He was even more handsome than I had first thought.
I was a bit abashed. “Yes.” I had never felt an attraction to an older man before, I had never thought it was quite right, but…
“I don’t suppose you’re actually interested in Egyptology? The department needs students.”
“I’m a music major. Piano.”
“I’d like to hear you play sometime.” I didn’t want to let myself be flattered; it was only polite conversation.
“I’m not really good enough to play in public yet. I mean, student recitals, sure, but… ”
“You will be.” He smiled again. “Do you know anything at all about ancient Egypt?”
“Only what I’ve seen in The Ten Commandments.” I fluttered my eyelashes and did my best Anne Baxter impression. “‘Oh, Moses, you stubborn, splendid, adorable fool!’”
Semenkaru laughed. “My colleagues would be scandalized to hear me say it, but I’ve always loved that film. Have you ever noticed how the Egyptian villains stay young and beautiful while the heroes all age pretty horribly?”
It had never occurred to me, but he was right.
“Why don’t you let me show you around for a few minutes? If you have the time, I mean.”
His eyes were so green, his skin so pale, lips so full. I could eat anytime; Justin and our teammates could do without me. “I’d like that, yes.”
And so I got a private tour. Sekhem-wa-Set, he told me, had been eighteen or 19 when he died, “The same age as Tutankamun; he had had crippling arthritis and walked with a limp.” Then he taught me a bit about hieroglyphs, a bit about the ways the Egyptians carved their statues out of the hardest rock known, and a bit more about a lot of other things. Somewhat to my surprise I found it fascinating.
We stopped in front of the most impressive statue in the place, nearly twice life size. Like most of the others it was of a man, dressed only in a kilt, standing with his right foot forward. He was holding a spear or a scepter of some kind. And he had the head of a bird, a falcon. The stone was black, polished. Despite myself I found myself studying the lines of the body. It was beautiful, lean, muscular, perfect. Like the professor’s, I thought.
“This is the Great God Horus. The divine embodiment of the pharaoh. His spirit flowed in the king’s veins. It’s carved from quartzite, one of the hardest stones known. But look at it. See the way they made the unyielding stone almost alive, almost sensual.”
It was beautiful. I said so.
“Everyone always says the art of the Egyptians was so stiff and formal, but look at what they’ve accomplished here. There’s real passion in this work. Look at the muscles in his legs. See the contours of his chest—you can almost see it rise and fall. You can almost feel the beating of his heart.”
He took my hand, quite gently so I did not resist, and placed it flat on the statue’s chest, just where the heart would be in a living man. It was warm. The stone should have been cool, like the air in the room, but it was warmer than my hand. There might almost have been blood flowing in it.
I looked at Semenkaru and saw that he was watching me, gazing at me as if he’d been looking for me for a long time and didn’t know what to make of me now that he’d found me. I let him hold my hand for a long moment before I pulled away.
“How is that possible?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Jamie.”
“That warmth. The stone should be cool, room temperature or cooler.”
“I don’t know how to account for it.” He shrugged then smiled again. “Some things are warm, some aren’t.”
I found myself feeling suddenly uncomfortable. “I have to be going, Professor.”
“My students call me Danilo.”
“Danilo, then. Thank you for the tour.”
“Perhaps when you play your first recital you’ll invite me.”
“I will.”
“My guess is, you play with the deepest passion.”
I turned to go.
“You hear the music, Jamie.” I turned back and he was watching me quite pointedly. “The music all around us, that most people never know. You hear it and understand it.”
When I left he was smiling. There was not much doubt in my mind what he had been trying to tell me. And I wanted him, too. But it seemed so… so… I didn’t want to think about it.
* * *
There was a reception at the music department at 7:30 p.m. I decided I’d eat there. I met several other students and several teachers. One of the boys, maybe a year or two older than me, was wearing a rainbow pin. I stayed carefully away from him. Ebensburg High had taught me better than to be that open. Roland McTavish, who was to be my private piano instructor, wasn’t there. I had met him before, anyway. Three string players approached me and asked if I’d like to from a piano quartet with them. I had never played in an ensemble and didn’t much like the idea. The food wasn’t much more than heavy snacks, but I ate enough to fill me up.
Then I headed to the library and sifted through back issues of the local newspapers. I wanted to know more about the murders. It took a while to find the stories. Young men, found naked and cut open from throat to abdomen. Their eyes were gone, and they had been mutilated sexually. A number of other men were missing, quite a few more than had been found. Just the news I needed, my first day.
* * *
It was after nine when I got back to the dorm; Norm was out someplace. Chasing “chicks”? I felt sorry for whichever one he had in his sights.
Feeling restless I decided to head for the sports building. What with packing, moving and bracing myself for a new life, I hadn’t worked out for a couple of weeks. I stuffed some gear and a Speedo into a gym bag and went out again.
It was after sunset, and the air was getting cool. The streets were brightly lit and crowded with students. It was easy to tell which were the freshmen; I hoped I wasn’t that obvious, but I knew I probably was. Traffic was heavy, stores were lit up. Gosh, Toto, I don’t think we’re in Ebensburg any more.
The sports building was ablaze with light. Everyone seemed to want to start getting in shape as soon as possible. The weight room was full, the indoor running track crowded, the basketball court a blur of action, the gymnastics equipment all in use. Everyone was there except the one I wanted to see.
Justin Hollis was there. I watched him practice a few dives. He was good.
“Jamie! You didn’t meet us for dinner.”
“Sorry. I got tied up with something. And I had to go to a reception at the Music Department.”
“You’re a musician?”
“Yep. Piano.”
He smiled. “An intellectual. Most of us major in sports medicine and stuff. It’s easier to stay on the team if your coach is the one giving you your grades.”
“But doesn’t that mean they have more control over you?” This seemed to be a new thought for him. “Anyway, playing’s a compulsion for me, like swimming.”
“I know what you mean. I want to get back up on that platform, okay? But let’s get together, though. For sure. I want you to meet Grant.”
Grant had to be the gymnast he had been with that afternoon, the redhead. “We will.”
He smiled again and headed up the ladder. I decided I liked him. He seemed to know me better than I would have liked, better than I felt quite comfortable with. I tried so hard to be neutral with people, but… wanting me to meet his boyfriend. I watched him. He was beautiful, so graceful in the air. Lucky Grant. But then I was making assumptions, or so I told myself. They might have been friends or brothers, for that matter.
I watched the divers for another minute or two. And for the first time I had doubts about college. This was so unlike the atmosphere I was used to. It would take me a while to learn to decipher all the signals. Rather than think about it, I decided to change and get wet.
And then…
There in the locker room I saw him. He was toweling off after a shower. I didn’t even have to see his face; I knew his shoulders, I knew the line of his legs. Nervous, terrified, I approached him.
“Tim.”
He turned slowly. He had recognized me from my voice, before he even saw me. I could tell by his body language. For the life of me I couldn’t read the expression on his face. “Jamie.”
I was Jell-O. “Hi, Tim.”
He paused for a moment, as if he was trying to decide how to react. Then he smiled. There were fireworks in it, or in me. “Jamie! It’s great to see you!”
Ebensburg was past. “I was hoping I’d find you.”
“Well you did, and I’m glad.” He toweled his hair.
Awkward silence. I groped for words. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been great, I guess. I just came back from the Olympic trials.”
“Did you make it?”
He laughed. “Hell, no. I was more than three seconds off. But I gave a decent enough showing, I guess.”
“I wish you had.”
“I can live without the pressure. It’s bad enough around here. Have you met Coach Zielinski yet?”
“On one of my campus visits. Is he rough?”
“Worse than Harrison. Is he dead yet?”
Despite myself I laughed. I had never found anything funny about him before. “No, people like that never seem to die.”
“You said it.”
Tim was naked. It took all my willpower not to look him up and down. For all I knew he had a boyfriend. Or worse, yet another girlfriend. It was an awful thought. I made myself smile. “Well, I’m going to change and get a few laps in.”
“You sure? Why don’t we get a burger and catch up?”
“Oh, I ate at the—” I caught myself. But I didn’t want to seem too eager. “I really need to limber up.”
“Do it tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow morning I have to go to the orientation for new jocks. Then Coach Zielinski’s going to meet with the new swimmers.”
“Talk. They all like to talk so much. Come on.”
“Well… okay, I guess. I’ll meet you outside.”
It wouldn’t take him long to get dressed. I hung around just outside the locker room. Idling the time I noticed a flyer on the wall.
There was a photo of a young man with the name Josh Mariatta underneath. He was a diver and he was missing. Anyone who knew anything about him was to call the campus police.
Tim came out. I pointed at the flyer. “Do you know him?”
“I’ve seen him around.”
“What could have happened to him?”
“Who knows?”
Ten minutes later we were at the Z, eating greasy burgers and greasier fries. I’d have to do extra laps to work them off. Music blared, students shouted, the staff shouted even louder. Everyone seemed to be having fun. As for me… I was with Tim again. I was nervous as hell, terrified. We had not touched, not even to shake hands.
“You want some mustard, Jamie?” I had forgotten how he liked to soak his food in it.
“No, I’m cool.”
“I hate this place.”
“Then why’d you bring me here?”
“Rite of passage for a freshman.” Was he laughing at me? “There’s a nice quiet sandwich shop a few blocks away from my place. That’s where I usually eat.”
“You’re not in the dorms?”
“Be serious. I’ve got an apartment in Shadyside. Two bedroom—I share it with one of the seniors on the team. Scott Trask. Have you met him?”
I shook my head. Just roommates? I was terrified to ask.
He guessed what I was thinking. “Just roommates.” He said it firmly. “Friends, but nothing more. A lot of the guys on the team… ” He left the thought unfinished, but of course I knew what he meant. “But not me.”
I had to ask. “A lot of them?”
“Well, some. More than you’d think.”
A guy carrying a tray of beer stumbled and spilled it; it missed us by inches.
Tim looked faintly disgusted. “Let’s eat up and get out of here.”
As we were leaving a blonde girl came over and kissed Tim on the cheek. He introduced us. Her name was Rachel. “Jamie’s an old friend from home. He’s on the team here now.”
She nodded at me, but she seemed to have no time for small talk. “Have you heard anything about Josh?”
He shook his head. “Nobody’s seen or heard a thing.”
“Let me know, okay? I’m so scared.”
They kissed again and she rejoined her other friends.
“She and Josh were seeing each other.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t know how serious it was. Like I said, I didn’t know him that well. I saw him at a few parties, but—” He spread his hands in a what-can-I-do? gesture.
The night was getting cooler; I wished I had worn a sweatshirt. The sky was a deep transparent blue and a nearly full moon shone down over the campus buildings. It was perfect for urban romance. Part of me wished I had been able to stop loving Tim. He was being so careful with me.
I decided to take the plunge. “You never came to my recital.”
“Oh.” He was embarrassed. Good. “I got, you know, hung up with so many things. Finals. You know how hard I have to study for tests.”
“I was hurt.”
“I’m sorry, Jamie.”
“I was playing for you.”
“You shouldn’t have. We were miles apart then. And things between us had… ” He sounded a bit helpless.
Every fourth or fifth telephone pole we passed had another of those flyers about Josh Mariatta. Some were about other missing guys. They seemed to be everywhere, and I was surprised I hadn’t noticed them before. But there had been so much else to take in. “What’s this all about? Does anybody know what’s happening to them, Tim?”
“Here, let’s walk this way. There’s a park across that bridge. We can talk better there.”
We crossed the bridge. There was nothing but darkness underneath; the ravine it spanned could have been a mile deep.
“It’s called Panther Hollow.”
I didn’t much care. “About Josh… ?”
We reached the park. There was grass, there were flowers and trees, all ghostly in the moonlight. Across the road from us there was an elaborate old Victorian greenhouse. The stars were brilliant. We sat down on the grass.
“Over the last year seven guys have been found mutilated. Five jocks, a cellist in the school orchestra and some guy from Fine Arts. They were all cut open. Some of their organs were gone, their eyes, their cocks… The others, the ones who disappeared… ” He let the sentence go unfinished.
“Did you know any of them?”
“Not really, not very well. Just to see, you know. But the thing is, only the ones that have been found have been reported on. The ones who are missing… I’m not sure anyone knows how many more there might be. I mean, you hear rumors, but… Some of the ones who disappeared turned up months later, cut like the other ones. The university doesn’t want it talked about, so nobody really knows how many are gone. And I guess nobody really knows if the missing ones aren’t just… missing.”
“What’s your guess? What’s happening here?”
He looked right at me and said, “I think there’s some kind of sick psycho faggot loose here. It’s what everybody thinks, but nobody’s saying it.”
I wasn’t sure how to react. This wasn’t what I wanted to hear.
“When I saw you just now, the first thing I thought was, God no, Jamie shouldn’t have come here. Because of all this, I mean.”
I looked at him, wondering what, precisely, he meant. He was staring up at the moon. “Well, I guess you’re stuck with me, Tim.”
“Good. What I meant to say was, that was only my first thought. Now that we’re back together—”
“Are we back together?”
He touched my hand. I felt it all through my body.
“So when I give my first student recital… ?”
“I’ll be there. Nothing could keep me away.”
“And if I announce that I’m dedicating the I c minor nocturne to you… ?”
He laughed. “Hell, I don’t even know what a c minor nocturne is.”
“Well, you’ll just have to learn, that’s all.” I took his hand and squeezed it.
“I want you to be careful, Jamie.”
I looked around.
“No, I mean when you’re out alone around campus. These killings… You’re not the biggest guy, and… ”
“Don’t worry, I can take care of myself.”
“Josh had a brown belt.”
“Oh.” As I had once before, I decided to be bold. “You’ll just have to protect me then.”
I leaned over to kiss him.
“Not here! Someone might see us.” He got to his feet and brushed off his pants.
“Tim.”
“Come on, let’s get back.”
“You just said we were back together.”
“We are. I mean, we are. But not here. Jamie, we’d both lose our scholarships.”
“This isn’t Ebensburg. There are laws.” I had checked.
“The hell with the laws. If they decide they want to cut us, they’ll do it. Come on. Besides… now, with all these disappearances and killings… Jamie, we have to be careful, that’s all. People are a lot more tense than you can realize.”
We walked back to my dorm. There was small talk, nothing too heavy. I brought him up to date on some of our friends back home. He saw me to the front door. I looked into his eyes, wanting to kiss him. He shook my hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
So much for my reunion with my old love.
* * *
A week before Thanksgiving. I had taken to school, loved everything about it. Under Roland McTavish’s instruction I was improving my pianism. Under Coach Zielinski I was improving my swimming. I nearly set a school record for the butterfly. Tim cheered me on, which I honestly think was the only thing that gave me the energy to do it.
There were more disappearances. A promising new quarterback, a goalie on the hockey team, and a voice major I had met briefly, a baritone. Only the quarterback had been found, inexplicably mutilated like the others. For a while the school authorities wanted people to think the missing men were simply, well, missing. But each time a body turned up it was harder to maintain the pretense. People talked, rumors spread. There was something terribly wrong on campus and it was spreading like a plague.
The first student musical program was set for just before Christmas break. I told Roland I wanted to play the Chopin second sonata, the one with the funeral march in it. I said that with the atmosphere, a funeral march seemed appropriate.
“I haven’t played this before, Roland. I’m not sure I’ll be good enough by the recital.”
“You’re not ready for that, Jamie. It’s a complete bear. There are only a handful of pianists in the world who can really play it well. Argerich, Pollini, Ashkenazy, maybe one or two others.”
“I still want to try.”
“If you’re prepared to be embarrassed in front of the department, fine, go ahead. I’ll work with you. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I felt a bit smug. “Thanks.”
“You’re asking for it.”
“Everybody does, one way or another, Roland.”
“If you want to play something by a gay composer, how about some Schubert.”
“It’s not just that. Chopin is special to me.” I hesitated. “What about Schubert? I didn’t know.”
“He lived in a house with a group of ‘bachelors.’ He was never involved with a woman. And he died of syphilis.”
“How cheery.” I really hadn’t known. And I had never explored his music, really. I made a note to start. Again I hesitated, not certain whether to ask. “Did you know the singer who disappeared, Roland?”
He frowned; I don’t think he wanted to talk about it. “No, not really. The voice teachers all say he was good.”
Roland was a large man, a bit shaggy around the edges, not what you’d expect in a music professor. He had a lover and was quite open about it. That made him unusual on the faculty; most of them were much more circumspect. He was my advisor, too. We had become friends over the months, and had talked about a lot of personal things together. He knew about Tim and me. What little there was to know.
“Roland, I don’t know what to do. I still love him, but… ”
“You should find someone in the Music Department.”
“The department’s not much more open than the swim team. Too much pressure to conform.”
“Be yourself. You have to be, to be a good musician. Have you listened to Thibaudet’s recordings?”
I knew what he meant. The great pianist was quite open about himself and had made a fine career. “But, Roland, he’s the only one.”
“Then make it two.”
It was too upsetting to think about. I knew I could trust Roland, but how could I trust anyone else?
Justin Hollis and I became friendly. I think it was because he was so completely clueless about music. I always felt one-up on him. When he dove from the high platform he was quite graceful, quite beautiful really. It seemed that Grant and he were only friends after all, or else they were being more than usually cautious. Most of the jocks had girlfriends; most actually wanted them. The ones who used their girls only for cover… well, that was okay with everyone as long as they maintained the pretense.
One afternoon Justin and I went and watched the gymnasts work out. Grant’s event was the rings. Hanging there, suspended by his own strength, every muscle in his body taut, he was a bit like a god. When he moved, he was even more so. I watched Justin. He was a bit in love. Not Grant. Unrequited. Grant seemed oblivious to everything Justin was feeling. Maybe that was what drew me to Justin.
Afterward, we headed to the Z for sandwiches. I hated the place, but everyone else seemed to go there without thinking about it.
Tim was there. He was sitting with a girl, a blond in a cheerleader’s outfit. They were giggling together. He saw me and waved, and I dutifully smiled and waved back.
Her name was Glinda, which caused a good bit of joking around the locker room. “So are you Dorothy, then, Johanssen?” That kind of thing. I always laughed extra loud, so he’d hear me. I was never certain how he felt about her, whether he was using her the way some of the other guys used their girls, for cover. He never looked at her the way he looked at me.
Since that first night we had been friendly but not very much so. Tim’s old caution came back. He kept a discreet distance from me without ever becoming too open. My feelings for him were… tangled. At times I still wanted him, very badly. At other times…
I decided to say hi to them; I crossed to their table with a big artificial smile.
“Hi, Glinda, Tim.”
The both said hi. Glinda had a milkshake, with only one straw. I used to fixate on details like that, as if they might tell me something.
We chatted. She said she was going home to Iowa for the holidays. Not having any family I really cared about, I had decided to stay on campus and work on the sonata. Tim wasn’t sure yet. He looked really uncomfortable, which pleased me. I made my excuses and rejoined Justin and Grant.
When we were finished, just outside the Z, Tim caught up with me. Grant and Justin went on ahead.
“Jamie, I need to talk to someone.”
“What’s up?”
“Not here. Someplace where we can be alone. Just a second.” He dashed back to Glinda, said something to her and kissed her.
We headed to the library and found a secluded corner. He was upset about something.
“My parents are getting a divorce.”
“Oh.” It wasn’t what I had expected. “Well, I never had the impression they got along very well.”
“They never did. I guess this has been coming for years. But it’s still… ” He had a habit of not finishing his sentences, especially when they dealt with feelings.
“So, are you going home, then?”
“I don’t know. I think probably not. The last thing they need is me there. But I’m really bummed out about it. I’m going to need company.”
He was asking. For three months I had waited for it. Now, I wasn’t sure how I felt.
He touched my hand again, as he had that first night. “Can I… you’re staying too, you said?”
I nodded.
“Can we hang out together?”
“I have a really rough sonata to learn.” I didn’t want to make it easy for him.
“Jamie, please.”
I paused for dramatic effect. “Well, listen. Norm’s going home too. Why don’t you stay in my room for the weekend?”
It was bolder than he expected, I could tell. Hell, it was bolder than even I expected. He looked around to make sure we were alone. I thought he was going to kiss me. But instead he only said how much he’d like to spend the holiday with me.
For better or worse we had a long weekend’s date.
A week later there was another disappearance. A history major, a captain in the campus R.O.T.C. The police were completely baffled. People tried to carry on with school as usual, but it was harder and harder to keep up the pretense.
* * *
And then the holiday break came. Norm left on Wednesday morning. Tim brought his things over that afternoon. He needed me; knowing if felt so good. He hardly stopped smiling. “Should I go home and get my TV?”
“What on earth for?”
“So we can watch Macy’s parade.”
“Somehow, Timothy, I think we’ll find other things to fill our time.”
“Well, okay, if you don’t have any culture… ”
We both had a good laugh, cuddled for a while, then went out for a sandwich at the Z. For once it was nearly empty and nearly quiet. The weather had turned cold; there were snow flurries predicted. Tim looked sexy as hell in jeans and a red sweater.
That night we made love five times. Five! And it was wonderful holding him, feeling him hold me. Even the sound of his breathing seemed sweet. I was still a kid, I guess.
After the fifth time, even he was too tired for more. We lay side by side in the dark room. I would never have thought that crummy little dorm room could seem so wonderful. Moonlight poured in, the only illumination. Neither of us seemed ready for sleep.
I kissed him for the hundredth time. And he was much better at it than he used to be... “You’ve been practicing, Tim.”
“Well… ” He was embarrassed by it, I could tell. “It has been two years, Jamie.”
“Two years very well spent, if you ask me.”
“You shouldn’t talk about it like that.”
Not sure what he meant, I got up and switched on my keyboard. I started to play the Chopin sonata. For a time, he sat and listened. Then I felt him standing behind me. He kissed the back of my neck, very gently. “You can’t really be thinking of me when you play that.”
“I can and I do.”
For a moment he was silent again. “I don’t feel like that.”
“No, but you make me feel that way.”
He kissed me again, long and deep, and before I knew what was happening, we made love still again.
* * *
The whole weekend passed like that, just the two of us, being young men in love, ignoring the rest of the world, even the part of it with giant balloons. It seemed so perfect.
The world, the campus, the mysterious deaths and disappearances all around us, none of it seemed to matter.
Tim and I saw a lot of each other in the next weeks. I practiced the sonata till I had it down perfect and understood every bit of feeling Chopin had poured into it. He was separated from his lover so many times, for so long. Everything he felt, I felt too when Tim wasn’t around.
Neither of us were going home for Christmas, either. I had nowhere to go; and his house was a battleground, or so his sister’s letters said. I couldn’t wait for more of him.
Over lunch at his favorite sandwich shop he asked me to move in with him at the end of the spring semester. “Scott’s graduating. You can have his bedroom.”
All I could do was grin.
* * *
It was three days before the end of the term: the day of my recital. Backstage I was nervous as hell, not just because I’d be playing before a demanding audience for the first time. I had my little speech of dedication rehearsed. A quartet played some Haydn; a tenor sang some Schubert; then I was on.
I adjusted my tie and stepped onto the stage. Tim had promised to be in the front row. He wasn’t. I scanned the audience, and there was no sign of him.
I went numb. I wanted to cry but of course it was impossible. Wanting to be anyplace in the world but on that stage, I sat down and began playing.
I seemed to go into a trance; my fingers played without my mind being conscious of it. I had practiced so hard, and I knew the music so well. But when I came to the second movement, the scherzo, I found it suddenly too much for me. I missed several fingerings, I blew a chord. I covered well enough, and I didn’t think most of the audience noticed. But I saw Roland from the corner of my eye. He knew.
Then came the third movement, the funeral march, and I found myself again. I poured everything I was feeling into it, the pain, the grief, the awful disappointment.
The audience was hushed. Somehow I knew I was playing it as Chopin had wanted it played. I kept glancing sideways, hoping Tim would show up. Tears came to my eyes. I tried to tear through the brief final movement, the presto, sending my agitated soul into it. But it was too much for me. This time I was sure the entire audience picked up on my mistakes.
The audience applauded. Game try, Jamie. I tried to avoid looking at Roland.
Then I saw someone else in the audience. In the fifth row, just off the aisle, was Danilo. He seemed enraptured; he was not moving, not clapping, just watching me. I hadn’t seen him since my first day on campus, but I remembered what he had said to me then.
People crowded around me. Nothing much they said registered. I wanted to get back to my room and be alone.
Just as I was finally about to leave the stage Danilo moved through the crowd to me.
“Congratulations, Jamie. You must be very happy.”
“No.” I didn’t want to look at him. “I’m not, really.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“My teacher told me I wasn’t up to it, and he was right.”
“But you played with such deep feeling. Everyone was moved. I could tell.”
There were too many people; the crush was terrible. “I don’t mean to be rude, Professor Senk—Semenk—”
“Danilo. Please.”
“I really don’t like to be rude, but I’m not feeling at all well. Thank you very much for coming.”
“It was my pleasure, believe me.”
I asked Roland to make my excuses and slipped into the wings. My overcoat and scarf had been moved from where I left them; it took me a moment to find them. Then I headed for the rear exit.
It was cold, much colder than when I’d gone in. Night had fallen and a gentle snow was coming down. I hadn’t used the rear exit before; it opened into an alley, which led into several more. There were utility lights at the back of several buildings or I would have been in complete darkness. It took me a few seconds to get my bearings.
Or so I thought. Every alley I tried was a dead end. There had to be a way out. It was so confusing I almost forgot how much Tim had hurt me.
The snow began to fall more heavily. I found my way to a larger alley. There was a streetlight; snowflakes filled the cone of light.
And then I saw the body, lying alongside a dumpster. Young man. Naked. Bright red hair. Cut open, throat to crotch, exactly as the news stories had described. Eyes torn out. Genitals cut off. Worse than that was the agonized expression on his face. And I recognized him; it was Grant. A large rat was chewing busily on his insides.
He lay perfectly still; a layer of snow was beginning to cover him.
“Grant!” I chased the rat away and shook him, foolishly, as if there was a chance he could answer me. “Grant!”
I looked around helplessly. What could have happened to him? Was whoever did this still here?
The snow let up a bit and I could see the end of the alley and a street beyond it. I covered him with my coat. Then I ran and found the nearest emergency post, and pushed the signal button.
A voice came through the speaker, almost obscured by static. “What’s your emergency?”
“I found a dead body. A boy. Like the others, I think.”
“Where are you?”
I told them.
“We’ll be right there.”
I stood there waiting, looking around, not knowing what to do or what to expect.
Poor Grant. I hadn’t known him all that well; I didn’t even know his last name. Justin would be shattered. I went back and stood over his body, staring at it, absurdly, as if it might tell me something. He looked… I don’t know, not peaceful the way the dead are supposed to look, but frightened, in pain. I touched him: cold, literally, as ice. If only Tim was there with me, I found myself thinking, he’d somehow know what to do, somehow he’d make it better. Laughable thought.
The campus police arrived, followed a moment later by the city police and an ambulance from the morgue. A dozen or more of them combed for evidence, took photos of Grant’s body, knocked on nearby doors. A detective questioned me and I told him what little I knew. “His name was Grant.”
“First or last name?”
“First. I don’t know his surname. I didn’t really know him very well. Friend of a friend… ”
After a few minutes they let me go. I’d have to get back to my room and call Justin. I was dreading it.
I passed near the museum, and unexpectedly there were lights on in the Egyptian Galleries, not bright ones, soft spotlights highlighting various exhibits. I couldn’t see anyone inside. One shaft of light fell directly on the statue of Horus. Stupidly, I stood in the snow staring at it, I don’t know for how long, as if it might have some resolution to the horrible things that had happened. Bizarre thing, for a moment I thought I saw it move. Then the lights dimmed. There had been no one there to dim them, but that hardly made an impression.
Finally, cold and shivering, trying not to cry, I made it back to the dorm. Tim would be there, I told myself. He had been sick, too ill to come to the recital. He had twisted his ankle, or…
I was being foolish. The room was empty.
I should have called Justin right away, I knew that. But the night had been so awful. Talking to him, telling him about Grant… it would have been too much. I crawled into bed and cried for a while and fell asleep.
That night for the first time I had a dream, one I was to have again and again. All the swimmers I knew were corpses, pale and mutilated; they stared unseeing into a night sky lit by a full moon. All the other athletes lay ringed around them, equally cold, equally dead. I sat in the center of it all, playing mournful Chopin nocturnes on a concert grand piano. And there with me was Danilo. Not visibly so; I couldn’t see him. But I could feel his presence, the way you can sometimes do in dreams.