Mason was, as usual, chatting up all their fellow freshman, and Balliol was standing with Tommy, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Damn Matt for coming in as a sophomore,” he said.
“Freshman orientation could be fun,” Tommy told him, and waved at a kid who was wearing a tee shirt with the name Jesus encased in a fish.
“No,” Balliol said. “It couldn’t. Everyone else was in shorts and tee shirts, except for Mason who was in jeans and a tee shirt. Balliol wore khaki pants, Birkenstocks and a red silk button down.
“I’m going to skip out of this shit. Mason,” he said to his friend. “I can’t believe you got me to come to—well, well…”
And then Sully, in his old, baggy jeans and a white tee shirt came running to them and not far behind came John.
“Are they trying to act like they didn’t spend the night together?” Balliol said.
Mason observed and said, “I think so.”
But just then Sully, a little sweaty and flushed from running, came up to them and Mason only said, “We’re all supposed to be young, innocent freshmen. Does anyone here feel young and innocent?”
“Gosh, Mason, even I don’t feel young and innocent,” Tommy told him with a chuckle.
Someone was clapping his hands. He reminded Mason of those day camp councilors from when he was little, and his parents would send him to the YMCA in the summer—before he told them he hated it.
“All right, these are your freshman leaders….” Mason recognized some of them. Jared was one. Jared would be his. They had already done that swap. There was John, who really was a nice guy and Sal and some other people, some girls, one of whom Mason remembered from the coffee shop.
Now the names were being called out, Mason heard John—who was kind of adorable with the little whistle around his neck, and the little blue ball cap, call out names. He heard the first name, Jack Alex, and then he heard the second one:
“Lincoln Balliol!”
Balliol looked at Mason. Mason looked at him, and then Balliol shrugged and left.
Sully came to Mason while the other names were being called. Before Sully could say anything, Mason heard: “Sullivan Reardon.” And then Sully was gone.
As the last of John’s group was called, Mason meditated on the idea of Sully, his perhaps new lover, and his childhood best friend spending an entire week together in close quarters.
All he could say was, “Goddamn.”
Midway through the day, John Turner called Lincoln Balliol over and said, “Balliol, could I talk to you a minute?”
“I suppose. Yes. Sure,” Balliol perked up his attitude.
“I noticed that you… weren’t into any of the exercises. You know? That you don’t seem to want to be here. And I wondered if that was because of me?”
Balliol didn’t understand. He looked at John.
“I mean… I take it you know that Sully and I stayed together last night. And Sully already told me a little about Justin, about Jared. I… I’m not like them. I mean, Jared is a nice guy. But I understand that Sully puts a lot of weight on how you feel, and I can see why. I’m not them, Balliol—” John stopped, looking at Balliol for some type of response.
“John,” Balliol shook his head “I’m acting like I don’t want to be here because I don’t. I’m acting like I hate all these exercises—the whole ‘let’s catch each other so we can learn trust’, and ‘let’s climb up a wall’ because they’re stupid. It has nothing to do with you at all. And it’s not your fault that these are stupid activities.”
John broke out into a smile, and then was instantly embarrassed that Balliol could see how much his good opinion must have meant.
“I never liked Chris,” Balliol said. “Not really. You know, the love of Sully’s life. And I always thought he sold himself a little short. But not with you. I think… you’re a good person. If that’s what you want to hear.”
John decided to be honest.
“It is actually,” John told him. “We’re not going to be just a fling. I don’t think. I want to give us a chance. Me and Sully. I want you all to give us a chance. All right?”
Balliol sensed that this was the time to hold out his hand for John to shake. Which he did.
“All right then,” John said, soberly. “You know. I sort of feel like I just asked Sully’s father for permission to court him.”
“Oh, I’m nothing like Sully’s father,” Balliol said. “He’s an asshole. Besides… He’s white.”
Jared Parker woke up yawning and slowly unfolded his body climbing out of bed. He bumped his head against a hanging Judas and passed to the kitchen where he flicked on the coffee pot and then noted that there was no sugar.
“John,” he yawned, and pulling his jeans on over his boxers, he went to the door, and then went down the hall and down the stairs.
He thought of knocking, but then he simply turned the door slowly and tiptoed in. It was early. There was no point in waking him up.
Since Julia had left, some of the partitions were taken down and the apartment was much larger now, didn’t look like an office at all. Now he could see the windows. Jared headed to the kitchen, but he passed the section that made a doorway to what was now John’s bedroom.
He had heard noise, small noise nearly beyond frequency, and as he looked through the doorway he saw John’s back, John on his side sliding up and down, slowly, across someone. John having sex. Presumably with Sully. Jared grinned and cocked his head in amazement, watching a bit before he tiptoed on socks to the kitchen and got his sugar.
“You get your sugar,” he murmured. “And I’ll get mine.”
Balliol arrived at the house a little before nine o’ clock.
“Does he ALWAYS DO THAT?” John asked Sully
“Do what?”
“The way he walks. It’s just… You know…?”
“He even walks to the door with class, you mean?”
John grinned and Sully and said in a tone of discovery, “Yeah!”
“Balliol’s just a classy guy,” Sully shrugged. “He was even a classy five year old.”
“If anyone else said that about anyone else I’d think they were pulling my leg,” John told him as Balliol entered the apartment.
“Is everyone ready for freshman orientation?”
“Are you?” Sully looked at Balliol dubiously.
“We’re supposed to be climbing walls and doing the trust fall,” John told Balliol who was wearing white pants, Birkenstocks, and a matching silk shirt.
“Um…” Balliol considered. “I’m not.”
“you know, Bailey… I mean, Balliol.”
“You can call me Bailey,” he told John.
“You know… you don’t really have to show up to orientation. It’s usually because kids living on campus can’t get out of orientation.”
“Well, no,” Balliol decided. “I’ll go. I mean, who doesn’t need a good laugh?”
“Can I sit on the fence and do nothing?” Sully asked John.
“Oh, come on, you can’t undermine my authority too.”
“Undermining authority,” Balliol said reflexively. “I hadn’t thought about that. I guess I won’t make it so obvious that I’m doing nothing. I’ll just… happen to have to use the bathroom when something like…”
“Rock climbing?” Sully suggested.
“Yes, that. Something like that comes up.”
“Speaking of going to the bathroom… ” Sully kissed John and then went down the hall.
John blinked and blushed.
Balliol shrugged and then pointed to the cross around John’s neck.
“It was my dad’s,” John said.
“He gave it to you?”
“Mom gave it me,” John explained. “After Dad died.”
“Oh,” Balliol’s voice was soft.
“People always say that when they find out I’m the kid with the dead father. That’s who I was back in high school.”
Balliol explained. “My father died last year. He had throat cancer. It happened very quickly.“
“I’m so sorry.”
“I know what it’s like to be the kid with the dead dad.”
“Everyone tiptoes around you.”
“Everyone asks if you’re alright.”
“But you’re not. How could you be?”
“And then the day comes,” Balliol said. “At least for me…. When you are alright.”
“Yeah,” the toilet flushed while John nodded in acknowledgement. “And feel like you shouldn’t be.”
Sully came out of the bathroom wiping his hands and smiled.
“You all like each other,” he said, pleased.
God, I feel like hell tonight
Tears of rage I cannot fight
I’d be the last to help you understand
Are you strong enough to be my man?
Nothings true and nothings right
So let me be alone tonight
Cause you can’t change the way I am
Are you strong enough to be my man?
That night at the party in the backyard Mason and Jared showed up together, throwing chairs down on either side of Balliol and John.
“The first party of the year.”
“And about time,” Matt said.
They looked at him.
“You all are so lucky. You’ve got freshmen orientation, and you get to meet people and everything. I’m stuck at the house all day long waiting for the year to start.”
Balliol frowned: “Poor you!”
“Really, it gets lonely in the house all day.”
“Wanna trade places with me?” Balliol asked Matt and stole a swig of his beer.
“Actually,” John was excited, “that’s not a bad idea.”
Jared looked at him. “You can’t be serious.”
“Well, just think,” said John. “Realistically, Balliol’s never going to be a team player.”
“I resent that,” Balliol said. Then discovered, “Well… not really.”
“And Matt sort of…”
“Was born to be a team player,” Mason said. “And you’d know lots of people in your situation. People who will be new. John, that’s a great idea. Let Balliol sleep all day and Matt can go to freshman orientation.”
“Too bad I missed the first two days.”
“Don’t worry,” Balliol told him. “There’s three more days of hell left.”
“So you can seriously make that happen,” Matt was excited as he turned to John.
John gave him a little smile and said, “I’m making it happen as we speak. Ah… here comes Sully.”
Across the yard came Sullivan Reardon, slender and smiling as he carried two paper plates in his hands. Balliol touched John’s hand and said, “He hasn’t been this happy in a long time. John, I don’t think there’s anyone I’d rather see him with than you.”
Lie to me
I promise I’ll believe
Lie to me
But please don’t leaeeeve!
Jared came into the apartment that evening and told John, “I was here, earlier, but you were otherwise occupied.”
“What?” John said, raising an eyebrow. He was putting a Wheat Thin to his lips.
“This morning. A little after seven. Came down here for some sugar. You were getting your sugar.”
John still looked a little confused, trying to remember what he was doing at seven in the morning.
Slowly, humping the air, Jared said, “You… And Sully. Going at it with the door open.”
John immediately turned red and shot Jared a look he hadn’t expected.
“What?” said Jared.
“Are you trying to tell me you walked in here this morning and watched me… having sex with Sully?”
Jared still didn’t seem to understand and said, “Yeah… a little.”
“Are you serious?” John’s face was hard. He looked so young and so innocent that when his face became hard it wasn’t scary so much as painful to watch.
“Yeah… I didn’t think… I mean, how many times did I walk in on you and your girlfriend. Or you and… anyone. I mean, my God…. We’ve been together.”
“Jared, it’s different,” John said quietly, his voice very sober. “Please knock from now on. Just don’t walk in on something like that. It’s not funny,” he added.
But Jared hadn’t laughed.
John stuffed another cracker in his mouth.
“I care for Sully a lot. This relationship is very important to me.”
“After two days?”
Lie to me
I promise Ill believe
Lie to me
But please don’t leave
John looked at Jared harshly.
Jared put his hand up and said, “All right. I understand.”
“That’s all I ask,” John told him. “That’s all I ask.”
Mason Darrow returned from registration visibly ticked off.
“Did you have tp take a basic composition class to get into your English classes?” he demanded.
Balliol, Sully and John looked at him and told him no.
“Well, I’ve got to take two bullshit art classes to get into anything I want to.”
“Did you register though?” Balliol demanded.
“No,” they could hear Jared’s voice as he came into the house behind Mason. “Mason, being Mason, did not register for anything.”
Balliol raised an eyebrow and Mason said, “I’m going to go to all the classes I want. The first class, advanced painting, has the professor who can clear me for it. I’m going to that one.”
“And you think he’s just going to clear you?” John said, and then Mason turned him a look, and John answered his own question. “You think he’s going to clear you.”
“You’ve got a plan, right?” said Sully, who had known Mason Darrow long enough to know he’d probably get whatever the hell he’d want.
Mason nodded.
“I do.”
Gaston Hall was a large octagonal brick building, recently built and also, Jared had hinted, sinking into the earth due to a poor foundation. The English and liberal studies class rooms were on the first and second floor with professors’ offices on the third and it all surrounded a vast lecture hall where many Genoa academes had slept through slide shows and then, later, Power Point presentations.
The day before Balliol had spent the afternoon registering for classes here. He knew Sully and John were in this class because Balliol had chosen to be—seeing that nothing else interested him—a sort of English major for a while. There was one kid he remembered from freshman orientation. What Balliol was picking up on was that this wasn’t like high school at all, with homerooms and people your exact age and year sitting beside you. He’d worried about Matt before thinking how he wouldn’t know anyone in his classes. Now he realized that the best thing Matt could have done was attend freshman orientation and meet other people in his situation. Besides some of these freshmen were actually older than him.
The professor who walked into the large class room with his hands folded behind his back said by way of greeting: “Goddamn, I wish I could open the windows in this motherfucker.
“I hate new buildings.”
He made polite conversation with several students. Asked about summers, brothers, sisters. The man knew a lot. He chatted up Balliol and Sully immediately spotting them as new. And then announced: “Welcome to the Eighteenth Century novel. This could be the dullest class of your college career. But together let’s see if we can try to make Defoe a little interesting.”
While the other class members were putting away their easels, Mason came forward carrying a large envelope and approached the table where Professor Rutledge was working.
“Yes… you’re Mason.”
“Yes, and I said I’d talk to you about why my name wasn’t on that list.”
“Yes. Is it your advisor—?”
“Sir, I’ m a freshman, and I’m here to do art. That’s why I came. That’s why I was recruited. I’m not going to spend the year taking a bunch of first level art courses.”
“But… Mason. That’s the way the school works. Art is like building blocks. You have to start with—”
“Dr. Rutledge, we know that’s…” Mason lugged his huge portfolio onto the man’s table, “Bullshit.”
Out spilled eight works while the professor’s eyes widened and he stopped his fingers from running over them fondly. Some were photographs in mosaic medium, some were paintings, some pencil and charcoal sketches. Mason had done water color as well as oil. There were abstracts, a primitive goddess, a most realistic painting of their new house with its shortbread trim..
The teacher looked at Mason suspiciously.
“Who did this?”
“My parents are both artists, I came out of the womb with a brush in one hand and an easel in other. Art’s not like building blocks, sir. Art is like art.”
On their way out of class, John shifted his book bag over his shoulder, and sidled up to Balliol whispering, “Give it about next week or the week after and I’m going too show you something.”
“What?” Balliol said.
John just gave him a hooked smile and said, “Just wait.”
Out in the lounge Matt was holding court and Balliol laughed, pointed and ran to him.
“Hey, gang!”
“How’s college life?” Balliol asked him.
Matt looked around and said, “I think I’m going to like it.”
“Crap,” one kid said looking at his watch. “I gotta go to class, man. Hey,” he looked at Sully.
“Yeah.”
“You’re the gay kid, right?”
Sully frowned at him. John added, “I’m the gay kid too.”
“Oh,” the guy said. “Alright. Well, I’m Todd Thurber. And we were having a discussion the other night. About that. About being gay.”
Sully braced himself.
“We were wondering about is it nature or nurture. You know? There’s this one kid. Like he’s really religious. And he was talking about it being changeable and how people should turn around and not be that way because it’s a choice. And then my roommate’s girlfriend was like no they’re born that way. And… I wanted to know. You know, from the mouth of a real…”
“Fag?” Sully supplied/
“No,” Todd frowned.
“Queer?”
“I don’t like that word.”
“See,” Sully said turning to John. “I do. I mean, I feel pretty queer. But who doesn’t? life is kind of queer. Do you want a short answer, or a long one?” Sully asked Todd.
Todd Thurber cocked his head and said, “I want the long answer, but my watch says I need the short one.”
Sully crossed his feet while twisting a bit and said, “Then my answer is as far as I know I was born the way I am, but if I could change it I doubt that I would and I’m not sure why I should.”
“Um,” Thurber nodded. “Good answer.”
“But what is the long answer?” Matt said.
Sully thought about it, but it was Balliol who spoke.
“The long answer, I think, is that we’ve been asking the wrong questions for a long time.”
They all looked at him.
“I mean, look,” Balliol said. “We spend so much time talking about gay and straight, but I’ve noticed something. It would make a lot more sense to talk about men and women. It doesn’t matter if you call yourself gay or straight men just love differently than women. We do. Gay men don’t love like lesbians. It’s just not the same. I think, really, that when I hear women say they would never be with a woman, they’re right. I don’t think they’re shitting you. But, I don’t care if this sounds offensive or not, to my knowledge there is no man who, under the right circumstances, wouldn’t be with man. I seriously think that’s what we’re like. We touch all the time.
“We have all the ass clapping and contact sports. I mean look at history. You hear about gay men in Athens, men lying with men in the Bible. Sodomy in the Middle ages. It’s always men and men. You never hear about lesbians. Its all we think about. Each other. We cover it up. But it’s true.
“It seems to me, sometimes, when I see how men treat each other, which is badly, or the support that we expect to get from each other, which is very little, that heterosexuality is the construct, the thing that’s not normal, and that we hold it together at the price of hating each other, being cruel to each other. That’s why seeing two men kiss is the worst thing in the world. Or two men holding hands or holding each other. It’s not even… the fucking that’s the problem, its men no longer being threats to each other, no longer hating each other that’s the problem. We live in a world made of wars on wars, conquering and conquering. Men killing men. If they loved each other that would all end. Why do you think that it’s okay for men to kill each other in the name of God, but until now, and in most places, you’d never think of two men using that same name to love each other?”
This was one of Balliol’s rare, long speeches that left people breathless with… possibility. It was John who spoke, folding his hands together.
“I… don’t go to church anymore. Because of things… Because…. I never thought it was possible to love someone in the name of Jesus. I mean, to make love to another man… in a Christian way. But, you think it is?”
“But if God is love,” Balliol said. “And it says so in the Bible, then how could you make love to anyone in any way but a Christian way?”