DANCING ON THE TUNDRA by Bert McKenzie Copyright 2010
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any real person alive or dead is coincidental and unintentional.
CHAPTER XII
"What's so funny?" Terry asked.
"Nothing. Not a thing," Dan said with a disarming smile. "He just likes to laugh a lot. It's because he's so happy."
"And gay," Wayne gasped between his chuckles.
"Sit down," Terry quickly offered. The two girls sat in chairs while Terry, Dan and Wayne all sat side by side on the couch. They all quietly and uncomfortably stared at each other until Dan finally broke the ice by asking Melanie her major. She glanced at Paula before telling them it was home ec. Another long pause hit, then Wayne stood and excused himself. He had to return some things to the library. In a minute he made a fast escape out of the apartment.
Paula glanced from Terry to Dan. "Your other roommate's awfully . . . effeminate," she finally said. "He's not . . . you know?"
"Gay," Dan provided the term for her. "Yes, I'm afraid he is."
The two girls gave each other rather sharp looks. "Well, show us your apartment," Paula suggested, trying to change the subject. The guided tour took less than two minutes with only the two bedrooms, bath, kitchen and living room. "So where's your room, Don?" Melanie asked, having been shown Terry's and Wayne's.
"We're roommates," Dan said as he put an arm around Terry, giving him a firm squeeze. "We share a room, Mel."
"It's Melanie, Don," the girl corrected him. "But you two share a bed?"
"Sure do," Dan said with a big grin on his face.
Paula grabbed Terry by the arm, pulling him away and back toward the living room. As she did so she whispered to Terry, "When did Mr. Obnoxious here move in with you? You never mentioned him before."
"Just this week," Terry responded, feeling hurt that Paula didn't like his lover.
"Well," Paula said aloud, "Melanie and I planned to do a little shopping. Terry, why don't you take us out to that new mall here in town."
"Dan was going to fix us lunch," Terry said hesitantly. "He's a great cook."
"It's awfully early for lunch," Melanie said.
"You guys go shopping and leave me alone in the kitchen," Dan said happily. "That way I can be creative. I'll see you around noon." Before Terry could think of a response the two girls were dragging him out of the apartment.
Wayne returned around 1:00 and he and Dan finally decided to have some of the lasagna Dan had prepared. As three o'clock finally arrived Dan decided he and Wayne should go out for a drink. When Terry finally managed to get back to the apartment around 5:00 he found Dan's note. It read, "Lunch is on the table. I'll see you at the show tonight." Terry glanced into the kitchen to see three plates of cold lasagna that had been sitting out since mid-afternoon.
"Oh, I think we must have pissed off your roommate," Paula observed.
"I told you we should have called," Terry said, beginning to feel the heavy weight of guilt. "He probably went to a lot of trouble."
"Terry, we came down to see you, not some over muscled Betty Crocker. He's probably a P.E. major."
"As a matter of fact he is. What's wrong with that?" Terry replied, his anger starting to rise.
"I knew it. Terry, why would you move out of the dorm to live with these two, a faggot and a fruitcake."
"They're my friends."
"And look what they're probably doing to your reputation. You're sharing a bed with another guy. People are going to think you're a faggot too. Didn't you get enough of that in high school?"
"I've got an early call," Terry said, trying to escape his friend's barrage. "Your tickets are on reserve at the box office. Lock the door when you leave and I'll see you after the show." He left the apartment to walk up to campus. By the time he reached the theatre building he was only an hour and a half too early, but he went down to the empty dressing room to think.
Was Paula right? Were people talking about him? Stanley's comments from Thursday night seemed to substantiate that. But how would this affect his reputation? What could he do about it? Then Terry began to think of some of the questions that Dan had raised earlier in the week. What would they do over the summer? Terry's folks expected him to come home. But he wasn't sure if he could stand a whole summer's separation from Dan. He really liked the man a lot, maybe even loved him. But was that enough? It wasn't like they could live together forever. It wasn't like they could get married.
"Terry? You're here awfully early." Dr. Baker just walked by and noticed the lights on in the dressing room.
"I ran out of things to do at home, so I thought I'd come here, just to . . . think."
"I know," the older man said. "But you're in the wrong place. Come with me." Terry got up and followed his director. They went up the stairs and out onto the stage. Dr. Baker took him to the apron and then they both sat, their legs hanging over the edge of the stage and into the orchestra pit. The house was dark. All that could be seen were the tiny twinkles of the little aisle lights that marked where the rows of seats ended. The stage behind them was dimly lit by a couple of white bulbs around the side walls. These were turned off during performances, but for now they cast an eerie glow of light on the back side of the set. "I like to come here before a show," the old man said, "just to sit and breathe in the atmosphere. Just think. In a couple of hours there will be four hundred people sitting out there. Each one has his or her own story. Each one has desires and expectations. And they are all coming together to see you."
Terry shook his head slowly to dispel the illusion the man's deep, rich voice had woven. "To see your show. Not to see me."
"Yes, to see my show, but to see you as well. It's your show every bit as much as mine. Whether you're playing the lead, or a dead body barely glimpsed for a few brief moments, it makes no difference. It is your show. That's the secret, Terry. Those four hundred nameless faces are all coming to see you. If you believe that, it makes all the difference in the world."
Terry looked at his director, then turned to look back out at the empty house. He slowly nodded as the meaning began to sink in. Dr. Baker sat beside him in silence for a while, the two people lost in thought, thinking of the audience to come. Then the man slowly rose to his feet and walked quietly away, fading into the dark gloom of the theatre. Terry continued to sit and ponder what he was told. It seemed to be a hidden truth to which he could cling, forming an anchor to steady his inner turmoil, not unlike the tundra itself.
"Terry?" a voice interrupted his meditation. He had totally lost himself in thought and was unaware of how much time had passed. "You okay?"
Terry looked up to see Victor standing nearby. He was already in his costume. "Yeah, I was just thinking," Terry responded.
"They're almost ready to open the house." Terry stood up and the two of them headed for the stairs to the basement. "So where's Dan?" Victor asked.
"I don't know," Terry said in alarm. "Isn't he here yet? He's never been late for call before."
"Ever since we got in this show he's been different," Victor explained. "He quit hanging around with his friends, he had that fight with Jeff and lost his scholarship as well as getting kicked out of the dorm. I just don't understand what's going on with him."
A few minutes later the stage manager came looking for Terry. "You're supposed to be in charge of the palace guard," she said. "Everyone's here except your roommate and curtain is in thirty minutes." Terry ran to the phone on the wall of the costume shop and quickly dialed his home number. The phone was still ringing when Victor came to get him. He took the phone from Terry, hung it up and dragged him back to the dressing room, telling him Dan had finally arrived. He might not have made it at all had it not been for Wayne who brought him.
"Where is he?" Terry asked as everyone seemed to be milling around in nervous anticipation.
"They've got him in a cold shower," Chet answered. "Get ready to put on the body paint as soon as they bring him out." Terry grabbed the jar of Texas Dirt and a sponge.
In a few moments two of the jocks came out of the bathroom with Dan in tow. He stood in the center of the dressing room, naked and wet and slightly weaving. "Hi ya, Michaelson, ol' buddy. Hold still will ya?"
"He's drunk," Terry said in surprise.
"Drunk hell, he's smashed," Victor countered.
"Just do the makeup," Chet ordered. "Start on his legs. You guys grab his costume and hold on to him before he falls over."
Terry knelt down and began to sponge the red powder over his friend's damp skin, blending it into an even color. "Hey, Ter, since you're down there anyway, give me a little head will ya?" Dan said and thrust his pelvis forward, pushing his crotch into Terry's face. Terry moved back and continued to apply the makeup. "Oops," Dan said while covering his face with his hands. "I forgot. That's supposed to be a secret. No one's supposed to know you suck me."
"Hold him while I get his jock on," Chet said as two of the P.E. majors supported the drunk. Terry quickly moved up to work on his chest as Chet dressed the man. As soon as Terry finished with the body paint he stepped out of the way while Chet and several of the guards finished getting Dan ready. Terry quickly stripped and slipped on his robe, just as the stage manager called places.
The group charged up the stairs, dragging Dan along. In a couple of minutes they were all positioned at the stage door. The stage manager cued them and the guards reached down to lift the shield. Three of them hefted it up, but on one corner, it was not lifted at the same time as the others, causing it to tip and almost spilling Terry head first onto the backstage floor. The rest of the guards grabbed to steady the platform. "Do you want us to hold? We can replace him," the stage manager said to Terry as she nodded toward Dan.
"No, we're fine," Terry said as he repositioned himself on the plywood shield. "He'll behave." Terry then leaned over to the side Dan was holding. "Dan, just get through this opening scene."
"Okay," a voice came back from behind the helmet. "I can do it."
The door opened and the little procession wound out of the theatre, down the hall and through the lobby. The new house manager opened the door and the group slowly began marching through the audience and down the aisle to the stage. Terry could feel the out of step jerk as Dan had difficulty blending with the other three bearers. They all stopped on stage and lowered Terry to the floor for the priest. Then they very carefully lifted him again in a smooth motion and began to walk down the ramp and into the pit. As the group proceeded down the incline, Dan began to pick up the pace, pushing the others to move faster. Just as they passed out of view from the audience Dan lost his footing, stumbled and fell. This threw the others off balance and they all stumbled, the plywood stretcher tilting way too much. Terry slid right off the edge of the board to land in a heap at the bottom of the ramp, his head down and his ass in the air. The guards who hadn't fallen took one look at the body and doubled over into convulsions trying not to laugh. Terry managed to roll over and crawl on his hands and knees to the basement door. He was quickly followed out by the others. Finally, Dan came through the door carrying his helmet and with a big grin on his face. "Where'd you all go in such a hurry?" he asked.
"I need a drink," Dan said as Terry undressed him and helped him into bed.
"I think you've had enough to drink for one day."
"Well I need something," Dan mumbled as he rolled onto his stomach in the middle of the bed.
"What?" Terry asked, angry and exasperated. "What do you need, Dan?"
"I need a fuck."
"Not tonight, Dan." Terry was already annoyed with his lover. He had no intention of letting the big drunk attempt to make love to him. "Besides, I doubt if you could get it up."
"No, but I bet you could," Dan said into the pillow, then wiggled his bare butt. In their past week of love making they had mainly stuck to oral sex, although Dan did on one occasion attempt to mount Terry. But the jock seemed frightened of the idea of anal sex with himself as the bottom. Now he seemed to be asking for it. "Come on, Michaelson, or aren't you man enough to try," he taunted.
The sight of the beautiful, naked man on the bed was turning him on, but Terry was still uncertain. He was still nursing his anger over the whole evening. This was the performance that was being judged for the ACTF competition. If they lost he was sure it would be due to Dan's intoxication. He was sure the audience heard the noises of the guards as they fell and dropped him in the pit. He was only grateful that it hadn't happened when they were visible as well. And yet, he still longed to climb in bed and wrap his arms around his lover. The thought of the sexual offer was appealing as well. Terry had never had any sexual contact in that way. He learned the pleasures of getting sucked rather quickly in the past several days, but the idea of trying this new position was exciting.
Terry slipped out of his clothes and climbed into bed, then positioned himself over his lover. He tried to couple with Dan, without much success. "Ow, come on, man. Not dry. Use something to grease it so it'll go in." Terry followed Dan's advice and grabbed a bottle of hand lotion to use for lubricant. The next time he tried they were more successful. At first, Dan moaned as if in pain and Terry regretted his actions. He remembered how painful things had been when he was first introduced to anal sex on prom night. He started to withdraw, but Dan only moaned again, this time not from pain but pleasure. Terry pushed back and enjoyed the incredible sensations he was experiencing as well. Soon the two were working together in a smooth erotic rhythm. They both climaxed at the same time and then Terry relaxed from a stance of passion into a gentle embrace.
The next morning Terry awoke to a wonderful aroma coming from the kitchen. He donned his robe and stumbled out to investigate. Dan was just taking a pan of homemade cinnamon rolls from the oven. "Good morning," he smiled. "Sit down and have some coffee. I was just going to wake you."
"How in the hell can you get drunk the night before and not be hung over the next morning?" Wayne demanded as he staggered out to the kitchen as well. His face seemed paler than normal, taking on a yellowish mocha color; his eyes were red rimmed and his hair stood at odd angles from its normal well styled shape.
"Easy," Dan said as he placed the hot rolls on a plate. "I drink; I get drunk; I puke; I'm all better. Have a cinnamon roll while they're hot."
Wayne grabbed his mouth and rolled his eyes. "If I try to eat something now I'll puke too," he groaned. "Just coffee."
"How do you want it?" Terry asked as he reached for the pot.
"Black and sweet, just like me," Wayne replied as he started to gain some of his spirit back.
Terry glanced at his two friends, then decided to get his complaints off his chest. "You two very nearly ruined the show last night," he said.
There was a long pause before anyone replied. Finally Dan spoke up. "And you ruined my lunch that I planned for your friends."
"We're talking about a show, Dan," Terry argued. "This production means a lot to about twenty five people."
"And what about my feelings? Don't I matter?"
"It's not the same thing."
Dan slammed the empty pan into the sink. "I never said it was."
"Maybe I better go," Wayne said softly and started to get up.
"Stay!" the two lovers both said at the same time. "This concerns you too," Dan added.
"So you guys didn't like my friends and decided to get drunk," Terry accused.
"Hold it! Wait just a minute!" Dan said as he held up his hands. "We didn't like your friends? Who was it that stayed home fixing them lunch, and who was it that never came back?"
"Yeah, Terry," Wayne agreed. "It seems like maybe you got things backwards. It looks to me like your friends are the ones who didn't like us."
Terry was ready to say something more, but when confronted with this argument, he lost his train of thought. Instead he just stood with his mouth open. "And what do you mean, your friends, plural?" Dan continued. "You only met Melody a couple of seconds before we did. You've know me longer than you've know her."
"Her name's Melanie, not Melody."
"If she can call me Don, I can call her Melody."
"So what did Paula think of your roommates?" Wayne asked. Terry blushed and glanced down. "I thought so. Let me guess. She doesn't approve of you living with a couple of faggots, and one of them a nigger as well."
"She never said that . . ."
"Maybe not in those words." Wayne sat back and reached for a roll, apparently forgetting all about his hangover and queazy stomach.
"What words did she use?" Dan asked.
"Okay, so she's worried about me. She thought it looked bad that we slept in the same bed."
"Pot calling the kettle white," Wayne interjected.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I think what he means," Dan explained, "is that your friend has a lot of nerve worrying about how things look for you when she and her girlfriend are . . ."
"Are what?" Terry asked.
"Honey, they're obviously lovers." Wayne delicately bit into the roll he had been examining.
"Lovers?"
"They're dikes, okay?" Dan added.
Terry turned and went back into his room, slamming the door. He then threw himself on the bed burying his face in the pillow. His mind just couldn't take the emotional roller coaster he had been on for the last week.
"Terry," a soft voice said. It was Dan. He sat on the edge of the bed and reached out for his lover. "Terry, it's okay."
"Go away," Terry said as he turned his back on the boy sitting next to him.
"I just want to know what you're so upset about."
"Well, I think that was a pretty shitty thing to say about my best friend," Terry finally admitted.
"Why?" Dan asked. "Why is it so terrible, if it's true? Why is it okay for you and me, but not for Paula and Melody?"
"Melanie."
"Melanie . . . Or are you really saying it's not okay for you and me?" Terry didn't answer. His mind was still struggling with the inescapable logic of Dan's argument. "Do you love me?" Dan asked. Terry again kept silent. He wanted to say yes, but he was still unsure. Maybe it wasn't right for two men to love each other. After all, if it was okay then it must be okay for Paula and her girlfriend as well. And for some unknown reason, Terry didn't want it to be alright between the two girls. "Well, I guess you answered my question," Dan said. He got up and left the room, leaving Terry alone with his thoughts.
Terry must have fallen back asleep. He was awakened by a loud knocking on his door. "Yeah?" he said as he sat up.
Wayne entered the room. "Sugar, you better get your ass moving. Don't forget you have a matinee this afternoon."
Terry jumped up and began to grab for his clothes. "What time is it, and where's Dan?"
"It's a little past noon," Wayne answered.
"Where's Dan?" Terry repeated, stopping in his scramble to get dressed.
Wayne looked down and examined his fingernails intently. "I don't know. He was pretty down because of whatever you said to him earlier. But I guess you'll see him at the show. I made him promise me he would be there. After all, it closes this afternoon."
Terry took a quick shower, then dressed and headed for campus. He looked all over the theatre, but couldn't find his lover anywhere. He was about to give up and return to the dressing room when Chet spotted him on the stairs. "You tried the house, back row?" he asked as he walked by. Terry instantly returned to the stage, walked down the steps to the house, then headed up the aisle for the back of the auditorium. As he got closer he could make out a figure sitting in the center of the back row. Terry slipped between the seats and dropped down next to his friend.
"So, what's up, Michaelson?" Dan asked, his voice sounding husky with emotion.
"What's up with you?"
"Just been thinking," came the reply.
After a moment of silence, Terry said, "Dan, I'm sorry."
"Yeah, me too. It might have been great."
"What?"
Dan kept his eyes focused on the dark stage. "You and me," he said. "I'm going home."
"What!?" Terry asked suddenly. He felt as if he'd just been punched hard in the stomach.
"I talked to my folks. Dad was pretty upset about the dorm thing and the scholarship and all. So anyway, I guess I'm gonna drop out this semester and move back home. I can't really afford school on my own."
"But I thought we had that worked out. You can stay with me."
"I don't think so, Michaelson. Maybe guys just aren't supposed to live that way. Besides, I think we both have a lot of growing up to do before either one of us is ready to get married and settle down."
"But Dan . . ." Terry's voice choked off. He was finding it hard to swallow, or breathe for that matter.
"Maybe it's time for a change. I wasn't doing so hot grade- wise anyway. I'm just a dumb jock."
"You're not dumb," Terry managed. "You're smarter than I am about some things."
"You think so?" The man looked intently at Terry. "I'm not so sure. I think I did a lot of things wrong."
"Hey, guys. The house is about to open," the stage manager called as she looked out into the darkened theatre. Just then the house lights snapped on. Dan quickly wiped his eyes, the tears having been hidden by the darkness.
"Let's go get me into my costume and makeup, one last time," Dan said as he gave his friend's arm an affectionate squeeze.