Word count: 2313 (2306)

CLOTHES MAKE THE MAN

Adapted from “Spirits of a Feather”

Four old ladies huddled around a card table. The gossip of the past week frequently took precedence over the bidding.

"I hear that your nephew will be staying with you while he goes to university this fall."

"Oh yes. Jay's such a sweet boy but so hopelessly unprepared for a big city like Winnipeg. His mother didn't even send any half-decent clothes with him."

"I'll bet my Stevie could give him some. I swear that boy spends a fortune on clothes."

"When you're twenty-four appearances are very important."

"Does anyone here want to play bridge?"

Steve met Jay in the lobby. The elevator rose smoothly to the top floor.

"There wasn't any 13th floor," Jay said.

"Most elevators are numbered so that they don't show a 13th floor because people are superstitious about that."

"But wouldn't the 14th floor actually be the 13th?"

"Of course. But so long as it isn't called that, nobody cares. It's the words, not the reality that matters to people."

Steve unlocked his apartment door. The drab grey carpet of the hallway changed dramatically to plush, dazzling white carpet inside.

"I had the carpet put in specially," Steve said proudly. "The original grey didn't go well with my furniture. I like things to look right." Steve slipped out of his shoes at the door and looked expectantly at Jay.

I can take a hint, Jay said to himself, taking off his shoes.

The living room was furnished with chintz furniture in a deep blue that made it seem to rise up and hover above the white carpet. Glass coffee tables adorned with stylized ebony figures exuded an aura of expensive self-indulgence. The walls were accented with a selection of black and white posters interspersed with smaller photographs, also in black and white. Although artistically done, the posters shocked Jay with their unabashed portrayal of nude male figures in relaxed but suggestive poses.

"Holy cow," exclaimed Jay. "The travel agent business must pay quite well. Or do you have some sort of illegal activity on the side?" As soon as he had said it, Jay wished he hadn't. What is the matter with me? he thought. I don't want to insult this guy by implying he's a crook. On the other hand, if he is a crook he probably doesn't want me to know about it. I've got to learn to keep my mouth shut. At least you don't get in trouble if you keep quiet.

"Just kidding," he added lamely trying to deflect the topic and disarm any hostile reaction that Steve might have.

"My job pays the rent and buys the groceries but that's about all," Steve said, apparently quite unconcerned about the personal nature of the question. "The good stuff comes from my old man's money."

"Gee. I wish I had a father like that."

"You might not if you knew him."

"Well at least you have a real father. That's more than I ever had. And he must love you a lot to give you that kind of cash," Jay said.

"Yeah, I guess."

"This is the balcony," Steve continued as if conducting a guided tour. He slid aside the patio door and

they stepped out onto the balcony. "Living on the top floor costs more, but it's worth it for the view. Being able to see for miles across the city relaxes me when I'm stressed."

Jay was enthralled with being able to look down at the river directly below, out across the city, and down onto the rooftops. An all-encompassing sensation of knowledge and power swept over him as he consciously fought back the urge to leap off the balcony and to fly out over the city. He shook his head to bring himself back to reality.

"You have a telescope?" Jay asked, more as an observation than a question. He bent over and peered into the eyepiece. "Hey. This points down at the street instead of up into the sky."

"I like to check up on the neighbours."

"Mind if I look around?"

"Go ahead. Take your time, I'll go in and mix us a drink while you look around. What do you like?"

"Whatever you are having would be great."

Steve reappeared with two tall glass filled with a brownish liquid and ice cubes.

"Here, try this," he said, handing Jay one glass. "It's Long Island Iced Tea."

"Did you know that there are ducks down there on the

river? And aren't those muskrats swimming around by the shore?" Jay asked.

"Could be. I thought they were miniature beavers. I like the ducks when their babies are little," Steve said. "You should come over and see the view of the city lights at night. It's awesome," Steve said as he went back into the apartment.

After a few minutes, Jay left the telescope and rejoined Steve in the living room.

Jay finished his drink. "That was good. What did you call it?" he asked.

"Long Island Iced Tea. But don't drink it too fast. It's deceptively potent."

"Potent?"

"It packs a bit of a kick."

"Oh. You mean it is alcoholic? It tastes more like tea than booze. I usually don't drink, but I guess another one more wouldn't hurt."

Down a short hallway Jay could see marble flooring in an elegantly appointed bathroom. Steve pointed off to a side room.

"This is the spare bedroom," he motioned to the right, It's empty now."

From the doorway Jay saw a queen-size bed, a luminous black lacquered dresser and a massive bookcase filled with hardcover books. A computer system sat on a corner desk.

"Have you read all those books?"

"Good heavens, no. I don't have any time for reading. Sometimes I'11 pick up a book if I have trouble getting to sleep, but I never finish it."

What a magnificent library, thought Jay. Maybe I can study here instead of at the university.

"I could show you how to work the computer sometime, if you want. You'd probably enjoy the Internet."

"I think I'd rather browse the library than surf the net," Jay said. "Do you use it much?"

"Sometimes I log onto the Internet so that anyone phoning will get a busy signal and won't bother me. It's better than the answering machine because they can't leave a message."

On the side wall, the faces of three portraits looked out from their traditionally dark backgrounds and heavy, carved frames. "Are these your grandparents?" he asked.

Steve laughed. "Those are my ancestors, alright. I bought them at an antique store in Montana. My parents don't want anything to do with me so I thought I'd create a family of my own. Cecil there is my favorite. He's such a delightfully grouchy looking guy with those mutton-chop whiskers, unkempt hair, and dour expression. Wouldn't it be fun to see his reaction when he found out that his only son was gay?"

"Are you saying that you're gay?" Jay asked. Darn. There goes that mouth of mine again, he said to himself.

"Would it bother you if I were?"

"I guess not. It's just that I've never met anyone who is gay."

"You've probably met a few. You just didn't know they were gay. Nobody knew I was gay until three years ago. That's when I came out to my parents."

"So nobody knew until then?”

“Some of my friends suspected it, but we just did the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ thing. My grandparents still don’t know.”

“I wouldn’t have told anyone.”

“It’s tiring to keep lying to yourself about who you are and watching yourself to avoid appearing gay. Social events were always a problem.”

”

"When I realized in Grade four that I was gay and that other kids suspected I was queer I had to watch myself and do things to appear straight."

"Like what?"

"Like at a dance in junior high a girl and I spent the whole evening necking up a storm just to throw off any suspicion."

"That wasn't very fair of you. What if she thought you liked her?"

"No problem. She was lesbian. In fact we both rather enjoyed the closeness and the feeling of being in a conspiracy to fool the rest of them."

"Have you tried to get your father to accept you?"

"I try not to think about it," he said as he guided Jay down the hall.

The bedroom was dominated by a king-sized waterbed and a sound-center large enough for a small theater. A wall

closet was filled with expensive clothes and a line of outrageously thick-soled shoes and boots along the floor.

"Give me a minute while I change," Steve said, unabashedly slipping off his shirt to reveal his muscular torso. Jay's impulse was to flee from the room in the interests of modesty, but somehow his feet wouldn't move. He stood there, staring in astonishment at Steve's firm, well-sculptured pecs, and in mild horror at the silver ring adorning his left nipple. Jay gulped down the last of his second drink.

"That must hurt."

"Pain can be pleasurable."

"I try to avoid pain whenever I can."

"It's not real pain. It's more like when you were young and had a loose tooth. You couldn't keep from wiggling it, could you? Because you loved the delicious sensation of pain."

"Yeah, but you're not a kid. And that's not a tooth."

Steve thrust out his chest toward Jay. Jay's fingers, like a moth attracted to a flame, reached out and touched the ring. It felt warm and smooth. It fit loosely in its sheath and flipped up and down easily. Jay rotated it slowly. The metal moved smoothly through the hole in the flesh sending a shiver went down Jay's spine.

"Doesn't it hurt a lot to get yourself pierced like that?" he asked.

"Not a lot. It only takes a five-second push to shove the needle through, and it's clamped so that you hardly feel anything. Now if you were getting a thick body part done," Steve said with a significant look downwards toward his crotch, "that takes at least a thirty-second push to go through. You have to be mentally prepared for that kind of experience."

Jay refused to allow himself to think about the implications of having various body parts pierced.

Steve went out and returned with another drink for Jay.

He continued. "It feels good and looks good. Part of the attraction is the anticipation of having it done. It's such a great adrenaline rush before they do it."

If the pants come off, I'm out of here, Jay said to himself with conviction. Steve slipped out of his pants but Jay's feet failed to move. He was mesmerized by the strip show taking place barely two feet in front of his eyes. What am I doing? Here I am in a gay man's bedroom, he is feeding me booze and he is practically naked. I'm glad nobody from school is here to see this, Jay thought to himself.

Steve rummaged in his closet looking for an appropriate outfit, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was naked except for his socks and bright pink bikini shorts. Jay found himself admiring Steve's beautifully uniform tan. In a minute he had pulled on a pair of comfortable jeans.

"Your aunt said you'd like some clothes," Steve said to Jay. "What do you see here that you like?"

"Whatever you say is fine with me," Jay stammered. "But only if you can spare them."

"Have a look in the closet. Doesn't it look like I could spare a few?" Steve countered. "I've got a lot of things I never wear because they are a bit too tight on me. I've been lifting weights and I'm not as scrawny as I used to be. They might be a bit big on you, but you could turn the cuffs up or whatever and nobody would notice. At least not as much as they'll notice you dressed the way you are. You look like a street urchin." Steve wrinkled his nose as if experiencing a bad smell.

Steve took a gym bag in one hand and started to toss clothes into it with the other. He held up a T-shirt that

broadcast the message: '2QT2BSTR8' across the front.

"Cute message, eh?" Steve asked, pretending not to notice the stunned look on Jay's face, but in fact well aware of the impact he was making.

"Yes, great," Jay answered without having the foggiest idea what it meant and without the remotest intention of thinking about it. He was struggling valiantly to establish some semblance of composure within himself. He took a long drink from his glass.

"Why don't you wear this to your first class. I'm sure it would help you make new friends," Steve smiled.

"Whatever you say."

Jay stood there, physically present, but mentally and emotionally his system had shut down from massive overload.

Steve finished filling the gym bag. "I'll drive you home now if you want."

Summoning the remnants of his rapidly failing intelligence Jay managed a feeble, "Thank you."

Jay's aunt met him at the door. "How's it going?" she asked.

"It's not going. It's gone. I had no idea of what you

were getting me into," Jay mumbled as he found his way into his room.

"Education can be so enlightening" his aunt said to herself as she settled down to her knitting.