Chrysalis Part 2-Chapter 30
This story is about a young man's quest to fix a major birth defect--he was born without a penis. On his quest he meets challenges, his soul mate and many other soon to be friends.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and events are the product of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any real person is coincidental.
The story depicts procedures and practices common for gender reassignment; however, this story does not claim to be a medical treatise, and information is primarily for the purpose of the story and not medical advice. This story is written for adults with adult themes. If you are underage or live in a location where references to gay relationships or transgender people is forbidden, please log out of the story or move.
This work is copyrighted by Boethiuscell@gmail.com © 2023
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Chapter 30--Elegance Is Not Dead
Tuesday, Chris was at Silent Models for a meeting with Cynthia and Adam Levitt, who had his five-year old son with him. "Sorry Chris for the kid, but haven't found a babysitter yet." The child had dark brown hair like his father, dark eyes like deep space, and almond colored skin. He held himself shyly against his father's knee. "Mason, why don't you introduce yourself to Mr. Wentworth." Chris slid from his chair to sit cross legged on the floor. Adam gave Mason a gentle push on the shoulder toward Chris.
"Hi, I'm Chris." Chris gave the child a reassuring smile. "Is that a car you are holding?"
"No! twactor." Mason edged a step closer.
"A tractor, that is so cool. I never had a tractor when I was growing up. Can I see it?" Deciding Chris was good, Mason rushed over to Chris and handed him the tractor. Chris carefully took the tractor and placed it on the floor. Chris gave it a push.
"No, that not how you do it." Mason took the tractor back, looked at Chris to make sure he was paying attention and using his left hand guided the tractor along the floor. "Like this," he said with conviction.
"Yes, thank you for showing me the correct way." Chris resumed his seat in the chair but kept his focus on Mason. "I need to talk to your Dad and Ms. DuBois, but maybe one day we can have a play day."
Mason smiled and crawled onto Chris's lap. "otay." Cynthia and Adam looked at each other and started the meeting.
"Chris, as you know Corbett & Steinholtz, now Dreamweavers, bought Silent Models with all its assets and talent." Cynthia paused to let Chris acknowledge the fact, which he knew. "Your time working with me has been a joy and a revelation that I want to continue. You are professional, easy to work with, get along with the other models, who can be temperamental at times." Chris laughed at that. "I know that you have only done modeling for two months, but you carry yourself like someone who has done it for years."
"I have not had the opportunity to work with you Chris," Adam spoke. "But Stu, Helga, Gorky and Miriam are over the moon with your work. Believe me they are not easily impressed. There is one issue that we need to resolve before we go forward. I understand that you are in transition from female to male." Chris squirmed in his chair; Mason refused to budge. "We need to know where you are in the process and what your plans for the future are?"
Chris set Mason down on the floor where he played quietly with his tractor. "Sir, my plan is to have the required surgery the end of this year or the beginning of the next. I am currently taking fertility hormones." Adam's eyebrows went up. "To increase ovulation and egg production. I will freeze my eggs so that in the future I might have my child or children. About the middle of June, I will be weaned of these hormones and begin testosterone treatments."
"How will these affect your looks?" Chris could not tell the direction of the question from Adam's looks.
"The testosterone will make me appear more masculine. According to my doctor I will redistribute fat, my voice will lower, muscle mass will increase and I may grow facial hair. I may even go bald."
"How do you think this will affect your ability to work?" Adam was pure business.
"Honestly I don't know. I am prepared to find another job." Chris rubbed Mason's head when Mason looked up at Chris concerned. "I am tougher than I look and will survive."
"Chris," Cynthia quickly joined the conversation, "we are not asking you to stop working for us. But we must plan. Adam and I have talked long about this. You are an asset to this company either in front of the camera or behind it. You have an analytical mind for logistics, are a natural leader, and an almost sixth sense with people. No matter what happens as you change, you have a position with Dreamweavers-East, as we are now called. Everyone in Chicago firmly agrees."
Chris did not know what to do. Overwhelmed he started to cry. "Don't be sad." Mason reached up and hugged Chris. Chris pulled Mason into his lap and hugged the kid like a security blanket.
"Guess you got a pal there Chris," Adam said as he scooped Mason up. "Mason's been very shy around strangers since his mother and I divorced. That he likes you tells me a lot about you."
"He is really a very sweet child. It makes me more convinced that I want children too."
"Now other business," Adam said. "As was stated before, we want you to be one of the faces of the new agency. Leandra should be her shortly. She is the female face."
"Not too early?" came a bouncy voice on a slender black woman, about 22, with short, short hair, high cheekbones, wearing a loose African print top, tight jeans and red stiletto heels. She was carrying a large canvas bag that she swung freely from her hand. She ignored Cynthia and Adam, going straight to Chris. "You must be Chris." She dragged Chris into an enthusiastic hug. "Heard so much about you, seen some of your work, looking forward to working with you." She stepped back, "You are one hot man. Pity I'm a lesbian."
"Pity I'm gay." Chris retorted. Both broke into laughter.
Leandra grabbed Chris's elbow and turned to Adam and Cynthia, "I like this guy, think we will be friends."
The rest of the morning was spent, with the addition of Dorn, discussion marketing, then a quick working lunch, and the afternoon doing test shots. After Chris finished for the day, he and Leandra met Tom for supper and drinks, discovering that she lived in an apartment complex a few blocks from Tom's. Numbers were exchanged, and she was invited with a guest to Chris's open house.
Chaz had flown back to Chicago, so Tom had his place to himself. He decided to stay at his place until Chaz returned Friday. Chris had mixed emotions about being alone in his place, but decided it was good. He did not want to be emotionally dependent upon Tom. The rest of the week was mostly at Silent Models, no Dreamweavers-East, planning the Co-op dinner, which Louis and Ollie insisted upon catering, and the open house, which was catered by Louis's aunt so Louis and Ollie could attend.
Friday came and Chris was a wreck. Everything was in place, Louis and Ollie took over total control because Chris could not decide anything. They insisted that Chris go to work like normal and leave everything to the professionals. They sighed in relief when Chris agreed. Chris had his doctor's appointment, as usual, except Chris's blood pressure was elevated. The doctor just laughed when Chris told him about the two events. He offered valium, but Chris declined.
Chris arrived home at 4:00 to a place of calm and purposeful work. The smell of food head-rushed Chris. Louis was in the kitchen, humming Madam Butterfly, while Ollie arranged a small vase of flowers on the piano. Louis's sister, Arabella, was placing glasses; the flatware and plates already set on the tble. "Hey Chris, how things look" Ollie said walking over to Chris.
"Perfect."
"Here is the menu." Ollie handed Chris a 4 x 6 card with flourished calligraphy. "This will also serve as a place card. I got names from Millie." Chris watched Arabella place napkins on charger plates at each setting that looked like roses. "The menus will go under the charger plates, since the center is clear." Chris and Ollie walked around the table placing people.
"I don't know the people very well so I don't know compatibility." Chris placed himself closest to the kitchen and Tom at the other end. He also wanted Millie close to him for moral support. Ollie asked who were couples and designed it so they were not next to or across from each other. "Could you set one place with a full setting? I want to send a picture to my sister." Chris knew that his sister would show his mother. It was a small revenge for all the dinner parties he did with his mother. "This is beyond five stars." Chris chuckled.
"Yes, the table is looking good." Ollied stood back with obvious pride. "I hope you don't mind us using pictures and menus as promotional material for our business."
"No, of course not. I am just so pleased that you are doing this. I would be serving pizza and corn dogs." Ollie led Chris to the kitchen, where Louis was having too much fun.
"Hi Chris." Louis looked elegant in a navy-blue chef's jacket with matching tall hat and black slacks. Black runners were on his feet, practical for a kitchen. "Have a seat on a stool, and I'll go over the menus and have you sample items. I ordered a backup refrigerator; it's in the storage room holding salads and the Zucchini Vichyssoise. It will be a seven-course meal with hor d'oeuvres: soup, salad, timbales of sole and scallop mousseline, beef Wellington, cheese and fruit plate, with desserts in the living area. Wines are chilling or breathing as required."
"How many wines?"
Louis counted on his fingers. "Ten," Chris gasped. "with the choice of three wines with desert and a Prosecco with the hors d'oeuvres in the living room."
"So, seven with food." Chris glanced from Louis to Ollie. "At least they don't have to drive."
"Don't worry about it. I am sure everyone attending has had multicourse meals with paired wines."
"Everyone but me. I will be clueless. My mother's grand parties only offered one wine."
"Quick run down." Ollie said as he piled bottles on the kitchen counter. "What do you know about wine?"
"Red with meat and white with fish. That is it."
"Usually correct. Here is what you got. Since there are five hor d'oeuvre selections, Prosecco, like champagne, will be offered because it is acidic enough to wet the palate and goes with almost any food. The soup is a cold, cream based so you need a slightly sweeter wine, a chardonnay. Salad with truffles needs a lighter red, hence a pinot noir. The fish course of Timbales of Sole & Scallop Mousseline will have a Pinot Gris--white. The main course is beef Wellington. By your rule a red wine. You are serving both a robust cabernet. You with me?" Chris repeated back and pointed to the bottles. "For the cheese and fruit course I selected a rosé. This can be problematic because rosés vary widely in mouth feel. I chose this one because of the strong fruit flavors and the higher alcohol content. Finally, for dessert a choice of sauterne, port, or riesling. All are sweet and pair with an appropriate desert."
"Three desserts?"
Ollie grinned. "Yea, three."
"Try this." Louis shoved a plate in front of Chris. "It's two of the appetizers: carrot tart with ricotta and almond filling, and smoked salmon rillettes."
Chris was unsure of the carrot tart; he was not fond of carrots. One bite, "If my mother made this, I would have eaten more carrots. The flavor of the carrot is intense, but then the cheese and almonds. I may hoard these." Chris tried the other. He just moaned in sublime satisfaction. "Louis, these are amazing. The very best things I've ever eaten. If you want me to do a live testimonial, just ask. You and Ollie are going to be very successful."
Ollie, who was standing next to Louis, gave him a big kiss. "That's my man and I love him."
"Louis, if Ollie doesn't treat you right, see me. I will shower you with roses."
"I'd rather Nacional cacao beans."
"Master Greenwood has entered the building." Beach said, causing Louis and Ollie to laugh muttering together "Master". Tom looked delectable as he entered wearing deep purple Harris tweed slacks and a tight off pink floral satin long sleeve shirt. The floral print was large with birds. It reminded Chris of old fashion wallpaper, but on Tom even wallpaper was mouthwatering.
"Hi Chris." then with a nod, "Ollie, Louis. Things smell amazing. I could smell it in the elevator. And the table is first rate." Tom, after a chaste kiss, joined Chris at the kitchen counter. "You are going all out for tonight."
"Yeah, need to impress the neighbors." Chris laughed weakly.
"This would impress the president, pope, and Martha Stewart."
"So now this is all fuddy duddy old school." Tom cocked his head at Chris. "Yeah it is, but it will impress. Right?" Chris rubbed his hands on his slacks in worry.
"Chris, you are impressive without any of this, but yeah. Sort of reminds me of Christmas at my Granddad's." Ollie poured Chris and Tom a sample of red wine asking for an opinion. "Oh, this is good Ollie." Ollie replied that it was for the beef. Tom returned his attention to Chris. "You'll see at Christmas." Tom smiled at Chris, who looked like he'd been smacked aside the head by a baseball bat. "You do know we are spending Christmas in England." Chris started to sputter. "It is all settled. My Granddad is expecting you."
"You spoke to him about me?"
Tom hemmed and hawed a bit. "Not directly. No one speaks to him directly, but I told Clarke to expect me to bring a guest. He runs the estate, has for decades."
"You are springing me on your grandfather?"
"No...not...yeah sort of," Tom conceded. "But I know you can charm the old snake."
"Does anyone else charm the old snake?"
Tom faltered again then gave a low laugh, "No, no one."
"I'm not going then." Chris was firm that he did not need the old man's approval nor his censure.
"okay fine, don't go." Tom was giving in too easily, but Chris was not going to corner him on it. Christmas was many months away.
"Chris," Ollie hated to interrupt Chris and Tom because he found the exchange humorous and could sympathize with Chris. "Let's do a quick walk around and go over tonight." Ollie came around the kitchen counter and pulled a willing Chris off the stool. "First, lighting. I assume your Beach can reduce it to appropriate levels by zone. Between 2000 and 3000 lumens for the living and dining rooms. Spot and under the counter in the kitchen. The hallways to the bathroom at 4000. The hallway to your bedroom, dark...to discourage prying. Night light in the media and master bedroom. The fireplace burning low. We want ambiance not heat." Chris gave the instructions to Beach who asked romantic dining or social dining. The three decided on social and around 3000 lumens.
"Music mix is next. I thought some light fizzy pop before diner to lighten the mood, a quartet type music for dinner, and soft jazz during desert. You know music better than I do so you select the individual pieces." Chris selected a random mix of Streisand, Buble, Dion, John, Grande, Swift, Boys to Men and Doo Wop, just for fun. Classical during the meal: Debussy La Mer--no scratch that too atmospheric--for Teleman, Bach cello, Mozart horn, and Copland's Appalachian Spring. And finally, during dessert Dave Benoit, Al Jarreau, Sade Adu, Foreplay and Peggy Lee for kicks. Chris cued Beach to play each playlist depending upon the activity. The room's thermal sensors, as part of the security, would maintain a 72 degree. This was Beach's suggestion.
Louis found Chris in the Media Room. "Come with me." Chris followed Louis to the patio, where two full glasses of red vermouth sat on the small table between two chairs. "Things are well in hand. Time for a break. Time for you to relax." Louis handed a glass to Chris as Chris sank into the well-cushioned chair. "I had an instructor who always insisted on a ten to fifteen minute break before service time to reflect, pull oneself together, and just fucking chill. His words." Louis laughed as he held his glass up to Chris's
"Wisdom there." Chris took a sip of the vermouth. "Thanks." Chris melted into the chair: the tannins of the wine, the bite of alcohol, the hints of fruit, leather, and cigar, and the sun, warm, refracting through the wine settled Chris mind, body and soul.
"Cooking is part planning, part art, and part luck." Louis said after an interval. "The first two we have some control over, the third we just need to roll with." Chris raised his glass in salute to the thought. "Chris, you are a great guy. I know this event is important to you, but remember that the guests are here because of you. True, they are curious and maybe a little cautious. But it is because they are uncertain about you." Chris thought about what Louis was saying, not sure it was true. Everyone in the building is very successful, power players in their own way. He was just a kid. "I know," Louis continued, "that you are only nineteen and living in this upscale place. You have been lucky. Accept it. But do not apologize for it because to be honest you belong here." Chris was not sure about that, belonging. The old insecurities returned with a vengeance. Tom was here to carry him. "Chris, you do belong here. Your guest voted you into the co-op. They would not have done that if you did not belong." Shit, Louis was right.
"Taking a break?" Tom asked as he joined Chris and Louis. They both nodded. Tom sat and placed his wine glass on the patio table. "Good. Chris is a Nervous Nellie over this." Tom said to Louis. "No reason to be, you and Ollie have his back with the food. And I will provide the charm. Chris only needs to smile."
"Yeah Louis and Ollie have my back with the food, which I am more than grateful for, but you Tom are just the bling on my arm because I am the charm in this relationship."
"I can accept being the bling to your charm as long as I am on your arm." Tom stood and returned inside.
"He is one smooth devil." Louis watched Tom through the patio doors. "He is a keeper."
"Yeah, he is." Chris was watching Tom too. "Now I just need to get him to move in."
Louis laughed at the comment. "Just ask and he will be at your door with suitcases in ten minutes." Louis rose, "I need to get back into the kitchen and check on the beef. You sit here awhile. Let others do the prep."
Chris sat, eyes closed, feeling the air cool with the slowly setting sun. Doves cooed in the distance, sighing of contentment for a closing day. The scents from the park were light, just tickling his nose. Peace descended, a thin fog blurring the edges of his anxiety. This was his place, his life with the insecurities, anxieties, the self-doubt, the true friends, and Tom. He opened his eyes and downed the last of the wine, deciding he needed a bird feeder. Time to change and face the neighbors.
"Sorry," Liam said as he entered Chris' unit, `for being early, but I smelt the food for the last hour and could not refrain from barging in. Can I help with anything?" Arabella offered him a glass of prosecco while Chris escorted him to the living area, assuring him that his arrival was most welcome.
"I know, I know. it is not proper to be early, but friends can be early." Millie said as she took a glass of prosecco--she had snuck in while Chris was talking to Liam. "I thought I might be of some help" She looked into the kitchen and saw Ollie and Louis. "But should have known you'd have everything under control."
"I actually could use your help." Chris guided Millie to the dining table. "Check the placement of people. You know if I erred in seat assignments."
One look at the seating, Millie knew that Chris was only asking to make her feel wanted. She grabbed Chris's arms with both hands, like she was unsteady, but because she loved his thoughtfulness. "Looks very good. I see Dan is sitting next to you. He likes to gab. no rather pontificate." She patted Chris's arm. "Be prepared."
"Is he obnoxious?"
"No, not that bad, a bit self-indulgent with his opinions. Professor of cultural anthropology at Columbia. Let's people know it too"
"How does he manage with Matías. Matías is not as well educated."
Millie pulled Chris's ear close to her mouth. "He's a good fuck." Chris bolted upright and roared with laughter.
"Enough of a reason." Chris laughed back. "Millie, I hope you never stop surprising me."
"Sir, guests are at the door." A small picture appeared on the refrigerator of Dan, Matías and Barbara Stenello, whom Chris had not seen since the interview. Millie sat on a stool at the kitchen bar; she was talking to Louis and Ollie. Chris greeted them and showing the living area while Arabella offered them drink.
"Chris," Barbara said, "Rod is running a little late. He said he would be here in fifteen." Her expression did not look confident about the time, making Chris curious about their relationship.
"Sir, two guests at the door." Chris saw the image of Harold and Louisa Brently. He looked nervous and she comfortable. Chris greeted them. She gave Chris a big hug and Hollywood kiss. He just extended his hand, looking around for traps. Arabella and Ollie served the canapes. Conversation flowed:
Louisa to Barbara: "Hi Babs, been a while. You doing good. You still with Rod?"
Barbara to Louisa: "Yeah still hanging in there. Don't know if relationships are worth the effort." Both laugh
Louisa to Chris: "The place looks amazing. Did you do it yourself or have help."
Chris: "Had help, a friend is an interior designer in Chicago. He was here doing most of the design work. Of course, he consulted me, since I need to live here."
Barbara joining: "Gabriel's taste was very antique; the French Empire style was too over the top for me."
Louisa: "Damn uncomfortable. I have nothing against antiques, but God, you need to live with them."
Barbara: "Pity your designer is in Chicago. I need to update my place."
Chris: "He's moving to New York. Relocating his business."
Barbara: "Do you think you can have him talk to me?"
Chris: "Sure, He should be in town tonight. He will be at my open house tomorrow. You're welcome to talk to him. I knew he wants to build his clientele here."
Barbara: "Will do that."
Louisa: "I don't mean to be a snoop, but can we have a tour. Like Babs said Gabriel's taste was old world."
Matías: "Very old, old world," garnered laughs.
Matías to Harold: "Chris needs to show you his computer system. It is beyond cool."
Harold to Tom: "Your company bought Silent Models."
Tom: "Yes, we are just now starting to integrate the two cultures."
Dan: "That can be tricky if the management styles are radically different."
Howard: "I was an attorney for the sellers. Stu Ringer is one tough cookie."
Tom: "Right now there seems to be little friction. Yes, Stu is tough but Helga Morise is tougher. Did you deal with her?"
Harold: "She was on the conference calls. I got the feeling that she was slipping Stu notes."
Chris: "I am giving a tour, if anyone is interested. The place is not totally done yet but close." Chris stood as did Barbara, Louisa, Dan and Matías. Howard continued his conversation with Tom and ignored Chris. Chris led them off to the master bedroom first.
Harold: "How long have you known Chris."
Tom: "About two months."
Harold: "You're the one who found him in the gutter."
Tom: "He was not in the gutter, and I did not find him. He found me."
Harold: "How opportune."
Tom: "Yes, for me very much. I have never met a man of such strength and compassion."
Howard: "Yes, he does put on a good show."
Tom: "Obviously, you think Chris a fraud or a con artist."
Harold: "Your words not mine. But what nineteen-year-old in a matter of two months goes from the streets to a place like this without something being shady. I'm just saying this to warn you."
Tom: "No I need to warn you...Harold. This place is a true gift from a friend that wishes to remain anonymous."
Harold: "You seem to be a smart, well-raised kid. It is easy to be dazzled by Chris's charm and good looks. Do you know who the donor is?"
Tom: "I believe so, but I would never confront him with it. He sees Chris as his son and wants him to do well. And I assure you that while I am a well raised kid, I am not naive nor gullible. My cousin, Cedrick Greenwood of the international hotel chain. is a hard cynical business man. He and his wife consider Chris family. Sometimes more so than I am. Millie is not one to be blinded; she adores Chris."
Harold: "She is well up in years and flattered by any young man that pays attention to her."
Millie: "I heard that Harold Brentley. How dare you accuse me of senility. I know where all your bodies are buried. Chris is a fine young man, and I will not let a piss and lemon sucking misanthrope project his own shortcomings onto someone better. If you cannot look past your own dark glasses, I suggest you leave."
Chris was leading the group from the master toward the media room.
Louisa: "Howard are you being a curmudgeon. Lighten up. You need to see that master bath. Chris has two Turner paintings, two. A gift from the Greenwoods. And the bedroom is so Chris." Chris continued on with the rest. Louisa quickly caught up.
An awkward silence pervaded the living room.
Liam: "Harold, you've known me for a long time. I take no shit from anyone, and I can spot a BSer across a room. Chris is the most genuine person I have met in a long time. Come to his open house tomorrow and see the people that count him as a friend after only a few months of knowing him. Chris is special."
Ollie: "Sirs, we don't normally interrupt conversations. But Chris is our friend. We are here catering, not because Chris asked, but because we want this evening to be special for him. In three weeks, he has opened more doors for our business than any advertising would do."
Louis: "He does it unconsciously. He sees our worth and amplifies it. So, unless you want an emetic in your wine, keep your uninformed opinion to yourself." Louis and Ollie went back to the kitchen.
Millie laughed: "An emetic, how rich.... Harold, I see why you will never be a judge. You are too sure of your own opinion without ample evidence."
Harold: "Fine, you may be right that I am not being objective."
Louisa: "You need to see the media room and guest bedroom" She pulled on Howard until he followed her.
Millie: "He really is a nice guy, except for his blind spots. Which are large sinkholes."
Soon everyone was together and the topic was the amazing hor d'oeuvres. Louisa and Harold returned; Harold obviously chastised by Louisa
Harold: "That is some set up you have. How many megs?"
Chris: "One system has five and the other ten terabytes, plus cloud storage."
Harold's eyed bulger. "Holy shit that is a lot. Why the need?"
Chris patted the empty seat next to him. "This is a smart house,"
Louisa: "Just lost my husband,"
Dan: "The technology here is cutting edge. Did you try the smoked salmon? It is to die for."
Matías: "My favorite is the wrapped dates."
Arabella: "The wrap is parsnips." She smiled as Matías looked at the delectable then popped it into his mouth with a shrug.
Matías: "One way to get me to eat parsnips."
Dan: "Tom, since you are in the image industry. Do you think models send a bad message to teenagers regarding body image?"
Tom: "Dan, I'm just a hanger for clothes, so I don't pay much attention to the message, even though I might be the medium. I think some strides are being made in diversity of body types, the emaciated look of Twiggy is gone."
Dan: "True, but kids emulate what they observe in the media."
Tom: "Tell that to the pop music idols, who have greater influence than an Armani ad. Tell that to McDonalds, Wendy's or Burger King who entice the young with fat and salt loaded food."
Dan: "There is a lot of blame to go around."
Tom: "But kids today are more aware and have more options if they are educated and encouraged to make wise decisions."
Matías: "Dan, no need to do shop talk. let it rest." Matías gave Dan a scowl. "Tom, where is the most exotic place you have been?"
Tom without hesitation: "New York. Everything is here." Laughs.
Barbara: "Got that right, Tom. The weirder the better. It's my bread and butter as a newsperson." Chris looked around at his guest chatting away, comfortably devouring the hor d'oeuvres.
Beach: "Sir, you have a guest at the door."
Everyone's head popped up and looked at the mirror, which showed a dark-skinned man in his forties. He was danced anxiously from foot to foot.
"That's Rod," Barbara said, "my boyfriend."
Chris opened the door, "Welcome Rod, glad to see you again." Chris extended his hand but was offered a fist bump.
"Hey man, nice to see you again." He walked in and looked around "Cool place. Sorry I'm late, work." He walked over to Barbara. "Hey Babe." He gave her a kiss on the lips. "Chris boy, you don't got no doorbell or knocker, how you know I was there." Chris explained the camera. "No shit, my ex needs one for our teen daughter. Cut down on front door necking."
Millie: "They'd just move further from the door. Teen hormones are the mother of invention."
"Diner will be ready shortly if you will have a seat." Arabella said, "Please find your place card under the charger."
It took a few minutes as people milled around the table looking for their seats. Once seated Ollie was there pouring wine. Harold took a sip and asked to see the bottle.
Louisa looked at him as she settled into her chair. "This is so clever. the menu under a clear charger plate."
"Doesn't get in the way, get lost or get dirty.," Millie further added.
Ollie and Arabella served the soup. Breads were already on the table.
Barbara: "This is really good."
"Yes, but not like any vichyssoise I've had." Harold had his eyes closed savoring the flavors.
"Zucchini," Liam commented, "according to the menu."
"Zucchini has an interesting cultural history. Although it is a Native American plant, what we have today is purely Italian brought by immigrants." Daniel liked to add tidbits that no one cared about.
"We owe a lot of our foods to immigrants." Rodrick looked up at Harold, but the comment was aimed for Daniel, who was a couple of seats down from him. The tone of the comment and the serious look on Rodrick's face was slightly belligerent. Rodrick liked to play Daniel, Chris surmised. "Both the willing and the unwilling. Okra for example."
"True, that was brought over on slave ships." Daniel was oblivious or too polite to respond to Rodrick's baiting.
Chris thought the conversation too dangerous for a formal dinner. "Louisa, I am addicted to your talk show." Her attention went immediately to Chris. "I need to tape it because I work most days. How do you find your guests?"
"My assistant, producer, and I work on a theme for the show. The theme can be very general. Monday we're doing childhood obesity. We have a pediatrician, nutritionist, exercise specialist, an obese teen and her mother. We limit to five for control concerns. About six weeks ago we decided on the topic, spent four weeks interviewing participants, and then selected the five. This week I met with the mother and daughter--the daughter is a hoot--to go over how the show works, show them the stage, and in general make them comfortable with the setting because they are not professionals. The experts are on their own." She gave Chris a predatory look. "They are experts and should be able to handle any questions I throw at them. A few of them are pompous prick and need to be leveled. I had a real estate developer, who shall not be named, on my show ten years ago and he was as narcissistic, bombastic, and inarticulate then as he is today." She ripped a piece from the roll on her plate and shook it at Chris. "He threatened to sue me. Only helped my reputation in the broadcast community." She delicately ate the morsel. "Hear he is thinking of announcing for president soon. Snowball's chance in hell of winning."
"Not so sure of that." Millie turned toward Louisa. "For many people his braggadocio, self-righteousness, and lack of respect is appealing. He is the last great white hope." Millie firmly took a spoon of soup.
"True," Dan said between spoonfuls. "The white majority will be gone in a few years. Power will shift to non-whites. You will see immigration being a big issue because immigrants are not white. It will speed the transfer of power."
A salad replaced the empty soup bowls. "Wow," Matías was pointing at his salad. "truffles." Dan frowned at Matías's outburst. "Never had truffles before." Matías said by apology. Matías put a sliver of the mushroom under his nose and wrinkled it. "Sort of funky smelling, almost musky." Matías smiled at Dan. "Like my man, hope it tastes as sexy."
Ollie poured a pinot noir. "I recommend that you taste it with the combination of salad and dressing." Matías added lettuce to his fork; his eyes went wide, and he was silent.
"Just a little dear," Millie put a gentle hand on Ollie's arm. "The salad is a work of art, Ollie. Let Louis know." Ollie smiled and nodded. "When I was a young girl." She grinned as she looked at the other guests. "Yes, I was once a young girl. When I was a young girl, I lived on a farm. We would go into the woods during the year to harvest mushrooms: chanterelles, oyster, puff balls, chicken, lobster and of course morels. Maybe it is just how I grew up, but I prefer morels."
"Weren't you afraid of poisoning?" Chris asked.
"Never, but I always went with my father, brothers, and two uncles." She casually dabbed her lips before taking a drink of wine. "Would not trust myself today. Terminal Market is as far into the woods I go now."
"Not familiar with the Terminal market." Chris
"Someday when you are free. I'll take you." Matías entered the conversation. "It is like a farmer's market."
"Cool." Chris. "Millie, how many siblings do you have?"
"Family of ten, six boys and four girls. I was in the middle. Have two sisters and one brother alive, all in Illinois. My youngest sister visits once a year, but the rest are unable to travel."
"Do you travel?" Chris.
"Not as much as I used to. I go to Florida for the winter. I have a condo in Sarasota."
"Nice." Chris watched Tom at the other end of the table in an animated conversation with Harold, Rodrick. Liam and Barbara. Tom winked at Chris. The salad plates were removed for the fish course--timbales of sole & scallop mousseline; beets with pecorino, pecans, and shishito peppers; and lemon saffron risotto. A pinot gris was poured. At first Chris was concerned because everybody just stared at the plate. Matías took out his phone and took a picture. "Too beautiful to eat," he said. Chris broke the impasse by forking a beet. Exclamations of divine, amazing, better than any restaurant in Europe. Chris looked over at Louis who was glowing. Conversation was muted as the food was savored. Plates removed small cups of apple and calvados sorbet with sparkling water to drink, cleansed the palette before the meat--beef Wellington with grilled portabella mushrooms in a wine reduction, roasted celery root with walnuts and thyme, and smokey quinoa with bacon.
"I died and just went to heaven." Rodrick belted out. "The filet is butter and the quinoa."
"Got that right man." Matías had his second bite of steak. "Chris, dude, your chef is awesome."
"They are right," "Yeah" added Barbara.
Millie was beaming at Chris. "Chris, this whole meal is fantastic. You have totally upped the game for entertaining."
"Gabriel, put on five-star meals." Daniel sipped his wine. "But this is a notch above. He did mostly the French with sauces, but this is elegant without pretense." Chris glanced at Louis, who needed Ollie to scrape him off the ceiling because he was so stoked with the complements.
Harold picked up his plate to look at the menu, receiving a glare from his wife. "Hey, I wanted to check what this divine dish is. Never had celery root before, we need to add it to our repertoire."
"Chris got a straw?" Liam yelled from his end of the table. "I want a glass of just the mushroom sauce." "Make that two." Chimed in Dan. "Three" Louise raised two fingers, shyly.
Turning to Ollie and Arabella, Millie asked for a doggy bag, which cascaded the request around the table. "In Roman times," Dan intoned. "a host was insulted if the guests did not squirrel away tidbits for later."
"Yes, back then they used handkerchief, which could be quite messy." Chris added. Dan looked at Chris a bit irritated that Chris stole his thunder and intrigued that Chris knew this trivia. "I much prefer the aluminum foil swans." A couple of glasses were raised to that.
Dan was not to be deterred. "Roman high-class dining was a refined affair, consisting of many courses, often with exotic ingredients while the guests reclined on couches." Dan made sure he had everyone's attention. "As the dinners progressed, they would be serenaded by musicians and entertained by performers, dancers, jugglers, and magicians."
Chris was not going to let the prick turn his diner into a lecture. "Roman dining was very civilized. Poetry was read, politics discussed. Gluttonous amounts of food consumed to the extent that a feather might be employed to add more room. And after the feast was the entertainment. I believe the Emperor Hadrian was fond of pygmies performing coitus."
"Thank you Chris for the last bit of information. Do you have such delights planned."
"Alas, I am a remise host, but then we are not Romans."
Louisa bent toward Dan. "It is so nice to know that more than one person is educated at this table. It will make all future conversations more lively." Louisa turned toward Chris. "Where did you go to college?"
At first Chris was reluctant to say until he saw Louisa's wink. "I am sorry but I have not yet had that opportunity. I've only have my lowly GED. Any claim to learning is self-taught and limited."
"Ben Franklin was self-taught." Harold gleefully added while looking at Dan.
"Oh, how very French, a cheese course." Barbara, the talk show host, knew how to divert attention. Attention turned to the two platters of perfectly ripe melons, apples, pears, and grapes along with a variety of soft, semi-soft, hard, and blue cheeses. Four small round loaves of bread were set on the table. A crisp Gris de Cigare Rose' was poured. Harold, of course, wanted to know more about the wine. Frequent questions were asked about the cheeses, which Ollie professionally answered.
"Dear," Millie put a gentle hand on Chris's arm, "we may all be refined but at heart we are all vultures." She giggled and pointed to the almost empty platters."
"Rather they pick the table clean than my bones." Chris replies with a smile.
"Oh, my lovely Chris, they are so sated that your scrawny ass is safe."
"Chris's ass is far from scrawny, Millie," Matías broke in. "It is two savory loaves begging for meat between the slices." Chris blushed and Mille guffawed.
Chris caught Tom's eye, who nodded. Chris stood gathering attention. "Dessert will be in the living area along with a choice of digestif." Tom had moved around the table to grab Chris's arm. "You are magnificent," he whispered in Chris's ear. Once seated, Ollie announced the choices for dessert: Poires Belle Helene, Chocolate Mousse, or Lemon Basil Souffle. Espresso or cappuccino was offered, which Chris took instead of an alcohol.
"Dan, Matías, Tom, Chris." Louisa gathered their attention. "I am thinking of doing a story on how life has changed for gay couples. My uncle, who has been with his partner for almost forty years, never shows affection in public, and only furtively when around family. An intern at the station is all over his boyfriend d'jour wherever they are together. I find the generational contrast fascinating. What are your thoughts?" Louisa looked at the half-dozen gay men around her waiting. A professional interviewer, she knew that silence would prompt comments.
"That is an interesting observation, Louisa." Dan professorially said, "I do not know of any research on the topic, but it is worthy of further study. I think..."
"Great topic," Barbara broke in knowing that once Dan got started he would not stop. Matías snickered under his breath. "Now that you mention it, I have seen that behavior too."
"Fear," said Rodrick. That he spoke surprised everyone, that he had an opinion was more surprising. "Forty years ago faggots were beaten up just for being faggots much less expression love. It's like black people in the South being cautious around white folks. Too much history of abuse to let one's guard down. My Grandmother is far more circumspect among Whites than her great-grandson, which drives her crazy because she sees it as disrespect."
"It has gotten better." Harold firmly stated. "There is no need for fear any longer. Both Rodrick and Dan laughed in derision. Harold crossed his arms and glared.
"Better yes, but it is still dangerous to be an African American man. People see us and assume we are thugs. Police see us and assume we are criminals. We are more likely to be stopped, arrested and jailed. While ropes may no longer be swinging in the trees, the danger is present but more subtle. We are now more politically correct."
"I despise political correctness." Louisa said, "Granted there is less sexual harassment at work, but it is still there. It hides in innuendo. Before political correctness, you knew who your enemies were and could fight them. Now they hide behind platitudes of `Great work, Ms. Brently", but you know they want you on the desk and legs up. You know that you are still an object and not a colleague."
Harold put a hand on his wife's leg. "You know you are well respected in the industry."
Louisa firmly removed her husband's hand from her knee. "By my fans, but I know about the men's room chatter." Harold frowned, stood and went to sit on the balcony.
"It's true for gay men too." Matías offered. "In the theater it is fine. They appreciate the talent and ignore the persuasion. But when I wait tables, I hear `faggot", "queer", and other worse terms about me as I leave a table. They won't say this to my face, but when I have my back turned, but loud enough to be heard." Dan looked at Matías, ready to fight anyone that might harm him. Chris smiled slightly at the show of protection. Matías looked at me, "For you Chris is must be even worse being a gay transgender." Matías looked at Chris. It was a mix of compassion, pride, and a touch of lust. "Damn, Chris, your fucking parents threw you out because they could not see the real you."
"Yes, they did, and it was horrible, but I survived. That is all we can do but survive and be more honorable, honest, and compassionate than the bastards who want to hurt us. I will not become them." Chris looked down at his hands, far too delicate to be a man's. He would not cry.
Tom caught that Chris was about to lose control and entered his thoughts. "I resent the fact that because I am gay people think that I will bed anyone between seven and seventy." Chris coughed at the comment and quickly blamed it on the sauterne he was sipping. Tom saw the hidden grin in Chris's eyes. "Granted that although I have had my fair share of partners, it does not mean that I don't have high standards. I mean I am with Chris." Tom grinned at Chris for a reply.
"Yes, you are with me Tom," Chris smiled sweetly back. Tom knew the zing was coming. "I believe in the possibility of betterment." That produced a round of laughter.
"I am pissed off," Liam said as the laughter died, "about the gays having taken the rainbow as their symbol. I understand why, but anytime I see a rainbow I wonder if it is a political statement. I want my rainbow back with the pot of gold at the end. And the word gay'," Liam was on a roll. "It once had a very fine meaning of happy'. You can't just say that I had a gay time at the party without people thinking you had your dick up an ass. It is not right the way language has been corrupted."
"There is the term homosexual, which has been acceptable for 100 years." Barbara offered. Dan cut her off "Homosexual may be a clinical term but it is inaccurate and leads to the problems that Tom mentioned. It means `same sex'. Since the word sex in involved with the term it is often assumed that being gay is only about sex."
"Do you have another suggestion?" Barbara bristled at Dan's interruption.
"Yes, I do," He looked at Barbara smugly and then the rest of his audience. "`Homotropic.' It means a tendance toward the same sex. We know that having sex with a person of the same gender does not make you gay." "Just horny," Matías blurted to a scowl from Dan. Dan continued. "We know that sexual attraction has a whole range of variation. More people are bi-sexual than admit. They have not met the same gendered person that attracts them. Some gay people never have sex, like J. Edgar Hoover, but that does not mean that he wasn't queer. Being gay is either in the genes or the epigenes or both. The science is not conclusive. But what is clear is that being queer is not learned nor from bad parenting. It is part of the person."
"You switched from gay' to queer'. Is that the term you prefer?" Louisa asked.
"Still taking a perfectly good word and changing the meaning." Liam groused.
"Since you are not happy with any English words might you have a suggestion?" Matías said hotly. Millie and Louisa tensed at a possible confrontation."
Liam laughed, "You make a very good point. There is nothing in English that I know of that might work, nor any other living language." Liam looked at Dan. "Maybe Greek?" Dan, for once, looked flustered.
"The Greeks," said Chris, "accepted male on male relationships. Plato thought the relationship of men was superior to heterotrophic relationships," Chris winked and Dan. "The Greeks and later the Romans to a lesser extent practiced boy/adult relationships--pederasty. A younger boy, past puberty, would bond with an older man, who would train him in the ways of adulthood and to be a sexual partner. This relationship was called eromenos. The Japanese had a similar custom--nanshoku." Chris looked around as everyone stared at him. "Hey, I was homeless and lived in the library. I read."
"Most Western cultures now make that practice illegal." Barbara pointed out. "But the mentoring idea is still good."
"Might be a topic for a show.," added Louisa.
"The ancient Greek military encouraged gay love?" The statement was a question to Chris.
"Yes, in both Thebes and Sparta the military encourage male lovers with the thought that they would fight harder to protect their lover."
"To Liam's concern," Matías almost bounced in his seat and spilled his espresso. "Gay men could be called Spartians, I mean women are Lesbians after the island of Lesbos."
"Or Thebians" added Tom. The discussion soon enveloped everyone in light-hearted banter about a word that would be used for gay men.
Chris left the group to join Harold on the porch. "Mind if I join you?" Chris asked as he sat in a lounge chair.
"Your place. You can go where you want." Harold tartly replied without even looking at Chris.
Chris sat quiet, enjoying the late spring air. It was cool but settled about him like a comforter. He could hear people and cars, but they seemed more distant than the dozen yards to the street. He inhaled breathing in the scent of trees and flowers from the park across the street. "One of the main reasons I chose to live here, besides Millie, is the park. On nights like this, with the wind right, it is intoxicating. I feel more closely connected to life with its abundance. I feel more complete."
Harold looked at Chris, "You some nature freak?"
Chris looked at Harold and bust out laughing, "Yes, I guess I am. But I refuse to make apologies for who I am. Despite what others think or say or do, in essence I like me." Chris looked at Harold, who was staring at Chris intently. "Don't like the body because it is not me."
"Chris, I truly do not understand your desire to change gender, but I sure as hell admire your determination to make yourself complete."
"Thank you Harold; it means a lot coming from you. You have so many walls up concerning gay men. And I know you are not homophobic. Is it because of your son? Is it because he moved to LA or because he is in love with an older man, almost your age?"
Harold stared at Chris so hard that Chris was not sure whether Harold would flee or attack. Harold exhaled and sat back into his lounger. "How did you know about my son?"
Chris gave a shrug. "Sometimes I just know things. Millie mentioned you had a son, but I never heard anyone else say anything about him, so the rest was my gut feeling." Harold huffed in contempt. "Let me continue with what I feel. He moved to LA against your wishes because he wanted to be involved in the movie industry. You wanted him to go to an Ivy League college and earn a law degree--join you in your practice. He went anyway, although it hurt him deeply that he was losing you and his mom. I know how alone and desperate you can be when you think your parents don't want you." Harold was focused on his hands. "Life is tough and people will take advantage when you are young, handsome, and naive. He fell into porn and escort services until he met the man who could love him and fill some of his loss. He is happy now and successful." A thought crossed Chris's mind, a memory. "You son is James. I've seen his name in credits of a movie I saw last week."
"I didn't know," Harold softly said. There was a smile on his face, a weak one but a smile.
"You need to call him. He needs you back in his life as much as Louisa and you need him. It is not too late."
"I don't know how to find him? What would I say? I just don't think..." Harold fumbled to a halt.
"Beach-transferred to my phone contact information for a James Brently, Los Angles. Address unknown."
"Sir, I have five possible names. Do you have a birth date?" Harold supplied it. "It is on your phone Sir." Chris phone pinged as the information was added.
Chris dialed. "Could I speak to James Brently." Chris smiled reassuringly at Harold "Hi James, I'm Chris Wentworth, a friend of your father. Yes, he is fine. But he wants to talk to you, so please don't hang up."
"Hi Jimmy, it is so nice to hear your voice. Your mother and I miss you and love you and I am so sorry for...for building a wall between us. Yes, she is..."
Chris turned as the French doors to the patio opened. "What are you two scheming?" Louisa said lightly.
Chris stood and guided Louisa to his chair. "He is talking to your son." She looked at Chris confused and then her husband, who switched the phone to speaker. "Your Mother is with me, and we are on speaker." Chris left to return to the other guests.
Millie saw him leaving the Brently's on the balcony. Chris whispered to her that they were talking to their son. Millie stood and hugged Chris. "Chris, as fabulous as the meal was the night would not be complete without entertainment. Would you play for us? Matías has a splendid voice and will sing." Chris and Matías entertained until well after 11. Harold and Louisa joined in the group sing-alongs with carefree gusto.
Louisa was the last to leave. "Thanks Chris, we are visiting our son, his husband and their new child in two weeks. I'm a grandmother." Her smile could have been the Chrysler Building. "You are truly an amazing man. A real miracle worker."
Tom pulled Chris into a hug. "You are one amazing host." Tom gave Chris a passionate kiss. Chris looked around his condo, the kitchen was mostly clean. Louis and Ollie and their crew had cleaned and left quietly while Chris and Matías entertained. "You get to do it again in a few hours, off to bed. I'll clean up a few leftover dishes and be in a jiff."
Chris crawled into bed numb, exhausted, but pleased. Tom had Beach pipe ambient music into the bedroom. Chris drifted off to the enervating music and the smell of trees.