It really did not need to be New Orleans. Inside, it hardly was. There were identical hotel rooms painted Dresden green. There were long corridors gussied up to look like a street lined with bistros. There were Grand Ballrooms, one painted a butter color; the other, avocado. There were silvered hot plates at long buffets. But outside, it was New Orleans. She left the hotel and walked around the quarter glad that it had been preserved.
Well, I'll be.
It was Richard Spurge from Harper's new religious division.
You still mad at me? he said falling in step beside her.
I wasn't mad at you, she said. I was just bothered that you were doing that. I remember you from college, Richard. Bertrand Russell: Why I Am Not A Christian. Thick paperback. Remember? It goes against everything you once...I mean...
She stopped, blushed, stumbled verbally but picked herself up.
You're, I don't know. You could do better. You... Books are for opening people's minds, not closing them. So I got angry because you know that, or you once did. And now, you're acting like you don't know it anymore.
You know, you're beautiful, he said.
When I get angry.
No, when you get thoughtful and analytic. No, I mean it. I know what you're saying. But you don't understand. Sometimes you have to go where they put you, or you don't get to go anywhere and you won't even have a home to stay in if all you want to do is just stay home.
She shook her head. Darkness and concern showed themselves in the furrows she made in her brow.
Do you want an anti-depressant?
What?
Do you want an anti-depressant? It's quite mild. I couldn't go on sometimes without. Might do you good.
With you concord is an event within discord, she said carrying a bag of groceries into the house up the flagstone path.
Andrew preceded her by a few steps carrying the heavier bag and fumbling for his keys.
I want a relationship, she said, where, when discord happens -- I know it has to -- discord is an event inside concord, surrounded by it.
What are you saying? he said, pushing open the back door into the kitchen,
I'm not going to go on like this? she said, standing by the table upon which she had just set down her bag.
What do you want to happen? He hesitated to ask. He was ashamed of the passivity he felt himself locked into.
I want you to leave. He looked impassively into the void.
What about the kids? It was not insistent. It was a murmur.
When have you ever cared about them? she said reproachfully. She still stood by the table, not moving. He wished she would so he could move. It was as if he could not move unless she released him.
And now you're using them to make yourself look pitiable, she continued.
She spat the last words. There was nothing you could say. But everything was off. She was right. What could he argue? Discord was at the center of their marriage.
Oh, don't look like that, she said. I won't buy it. I know you're just waiting to go. But you're too guilty to say what you want. People like you are dangerous.
You're somewhere, Max said, rubbing Andrew's shoulders.
Yeah, I sure am.
Tell me. What's going on? Where are you?
I'm on Thirty-second Street.
I don't understand.
I'm living in a hotel on Thirty-second Street.
Not at home?
I have no home.
Silence.
Miriam kicked me out.
What will you do?
I don't know. The only thing that keeps me going is work.
Thanks, Harrison said, teasingly.
This doesn't feel real, Max. I'm sorry. I don't know. It's like kids playing follow the leader.
You mean that?
Half and half. I mean it feels good but...
But now there's nothing keeping you from making it real.
You mean?
What do you mean?
Are you talking about us living together?
Do you want to?
Me moving in here?
There's a spare room, although I think we should share the bedroom.
But I'm supposed to feel bad.
And you don't?
May I be honest?
Max grunted.
The thought of living with you excites me very much, of being that close to you. It's a feeling I've only experienced fleetingly. I never thought it was really meant for me.
That means you don't have to go home. You can sleep here tonight.
I'm free.
You're home.
Richard Spurge took Miriam to a small restaurant on Mercer Street where they ate tender octopus and delicately spiced stuffed red peppers.
I can't believe it, she said, fingering the stem of her glass of 1988 Pommard.
Can't believe what? Richard said.
That you do the kind of work you do.
Oh, no, Spurge laughed, hoping to insure he could keep the subject floating rather than have it crash down all around them and blow up like a bomb.
Don't worry, she said. I could get used to going out like this.
He took her hand from across the table and put her fingers to his lips.
I hope so, he said.
On Spring Street, she asked him to put her in a cab. When he protested, whimperingly pursing his lower lip, she said it was not that she would not sleep with him but that she would not sleep with him tonight.
The future has already happened and we are moving towards it, Andrew said, passing the joint back to Max.
We make the future and guide it towards us, Max contradicted him and then took a toke and held his breath.
Oh, I don't know, Andrew said. Does it matter? He turned and looked at Harrison. The sky was dark and heavy. It was sure to snow.
Have you heard from Miriam?
She does not answer my calls, and I'd just as soon not talk to her anymore.
The children?
It's an expense I can bear.
I mean not seeing them.
They're ok. Richard's a nice man. He'll take good care of them, and with the monthly stipend I send plus the investments I've made for them, they'll each be able to go to college, and more.
So now you are twenty-one again.
Eighteen.
The Web was full of college students. Billie Holliday was on the juke box singing "It Was Just One of Those Things."
Derek was nervous. He was not comfortable standing in a bar hoping people would look at him and afraid, at the same time, that they would.
You have not been doing this for long, Max said to him, touching his palm to the boy's cheek.
No, sir, Derek said with a mid-western accent.
Don't be nervous. You're very hot, Max said, pressing his palm against the young man's chest.
Derek blushed and dropped his eyes.
Don't disappear, Max said, his palm dancing over the area of the boy's genitals.
Say thank you, he said, as he cupped them in his palm.
Thank you, Derek said, suppressing a giggle.
Do you like him? Max asked.
He's very pretty, Andrew said. I want to kiss him.
I want to kiss him, too, Max said.
And he brought the boy to him and gave him a kiss full of his power. It made Derek shudder with desire. He wanted to be opened.
When Max let him go, Andrew did not wait but took his mouth with a delicate reach of his fingers and brought it to his and kissed him dreamily and long and languorously until the boy was helplessly dizzy with desire.
Come, they said, leading him out of the bar.
Who are you? Harrison asked Derek once they were on the street and heading to his penthouse on Twenty-third Street.
I was born in Kentucky. My father is a colonel in the army. My mother was a nurse but became a full-time wife. We moved around, but we spent the last two years in Arizona. I'm studying theater at Columbia. Does that say enough?
Enough for now. Harrison smiled with a wink. Theater!
Andrew took his other hand and kissed it gently, the upper side and then the open palm.
In bed, they stroked him and gazed at the opalescence of his flesh, and lost themselves in the voluptuous innocence of his fresh, spring-young body.
Andrew put his mouth to the boy's and felt swept towards him by the current of his breath. The ocean of his blood beat on the shore of his desire and with his kisses he swam inside Derek.
Derek held on to him and writhed, lost in the amplitude of his own sensations.
As he writhed like that, Harrison slid one hand beneath his jeans and slowly worked one finger into his granite ass. With the other hand he went under his t shirt and felt the warmth radiate from his chest. He took hold of one nipple between his thumb and first finger and slowly and gently began to knead it. As his finger drew deeper into Derek, he increased the force with which he rubbed his nipples.
The boy saw the cloudless blue sky of Arizona rolling forever in translucent azure billows through the space he felt himself filling .
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