Howard became painfully jealous when Nick started seeing Lucas.
When Lucas began to stay the night at Nick's after everyone else had gone and he was on his way out, too, he fell apart.
What was I supposed to do? Nick shouted. He was more beautiful than ever. He had begun to wear black eyeliner. He was standing behind a counter in the kitchen at the far end of the loft, shirtless in a pair of bib overalls, cubing zucchinis and eggplants for a ratatouille he was making.
I was as available as could be for you, he said, and not passively, either. But you would not have me or let me have you. So what would you have me do? Nothing? Wait for what is not going to happen? Resolve myself into a dew? Really, Howard.
I'm on the air in three hours, Howard said earnestly. I'm stealing an hour to see you because something is going around in my head that won't let me focus my attention on anything else, and I cannot live...that way.
I can't live without you, is what he would have said, had he been able to. But the words stuck in his throat as the wish stuck in his heart.
You are jealous, Howard.
I am jealous, Howard said, realizing that it was jealousy, for the first time, even though it was obvious. That meant that he was in love with Nick. He was proud that he could recognize jealousy for what it was, love's enemy. He was ashamed, nevertheless, because he really felt jealous. It was real. It was a painful gnawing, a punishment designed by an absent master who, who would become nothing but a phantom, an impossible, yearned-for phantom.
Howard was lost in an old story he had forgotten long ago and now had nothing to say but he felt dirt in his mouth as he struggled to find something to say, but he was terribly empty, vacant as the desert.
There was something in him that needed to be overcome that was insurmountable. He felt it beating in his chest.
I come from a different time from yours, he said hesitantly. You don't know what changes happened in a quarter of a century. There's the difference between us. I had to suppress things you never had to. I could never have you, he said, if for no other reason, he added, than because of the difference in our ages.
But that is not it, because it isn't so, and you refuse to see it, Nick answered with righteous irritation. The problem is you can't accept that you want me and that you can have me. So it's not that, and it's not me that's bothering you. I've thrown myself at you. So to hear you say what you're saying now, it is so out of touch. It's simple, Howard. You are afraid to come out. Your closet is lined with money, and to open the door and walk out of it you are afraid may mean you have to walk away from that money. It's closet money
I have money enough saved and invested so that I don't have to worry, Howard said to free himself from what Nick said. I could walk away from everything, abandon my celebrity, I still can live comfortably for as long as...
If it is not money, Nick interrupted, it is pride, and we all know the fear that goes with pride, humiliation, having it known that you want what you want and not what you're supposed to want.
Howard was silent.
I'm not monogamous, Howard, Nick continued. I know you're supposed to be. But I don't care. I'm going to be how I am and I'm not hurting anybody, especially not you. So don't use me that way.
Nick drew Howard to him by the palm of his hand pressed against the back of his neck and kissed him softly, and then fiercely as Howard returned the kiss.
I want to serve you, Howard said, breaking it, and then beginning to weep. That is what is so shameful. Pride, you say? Ha! It's shame and self-reproach I feel. I want to submit to you, to put you in power over me.
Nick looked intently at him as he spoke.
Howard was pulling himself together, holding himself back, making the tears break against his heart rather than roll down his cheeks.
And I don't know if I can go there, Howard said.
Nick held him.
I'll watch your commentary tonight, Nick said as they kissed good-bye.
Yes, Howard said.
Robin frowned.
Have I said something wrong? Nick said, exhaling and passing the joint back to him.
No, Robin said through his teeth, holding the smoke in.
No, Robin repeated when his breath was back, shaking his head. I'm jealous; that's all.
Oh, no, Nick said.
Robin looked puzzled.
I can't begin to explain, Nick said. It's just I'm hearing a lot about jealousy lately. What are you jealous of?
I'm jealous of Eliot, that you and he... I'm jealous that you and I have not become closer friends.
I'm not exclusive, Robin.
That's not what I meant.
Unbutton your shirt, Nick said.
What? Robin said.
Just do it, Nick said without a smile, through his teeth.
Yes, Sir, Robin said, as he worked the buttons loose.
Now take it off.
Robin looked at him defiantly as he did.
Good, Nick said touching him lightly on a nipple and pressing their lips together.
Robin took Nick's head in his palms and looked dewy-eyed into Nick's eyes through a tunnel of air.
What are you looking for, Robin?
You, Robin said.
Nick brought their mouths together again and took away all his breath.
He backed away, and before Robin knew it, Nick slapped him across the face. Robin sank to his knees and began to kiss Nick's bare feet. Nick lifted him and ran his fingers through his thick hair and kissed him tenderly as he held him.
He moved slowly and brought Robin's whole body, stripped of clothing, into sensitivity and submission, and then he entered him and Robin opened his throat and sang hymns at heaven's gate.
Robin was cold when they were together two days later at the opening of Nick's exhibition.
It figures, Nick muttered.
What are you muttering about? Eliot said.
What is it about me?
What is it about you what?
Nothing, Nick said.
I hate when you do that, Eliot said.
I know, Nick said. I'm sorry. What is it about me that draws masochistic guys?
Your dominant personality, Eliot said grinning.
It doesn't seem so dominant around you.
There's always a pecking order.
Do you love me, Eliot?
It doesn't matter, he said. You can't translate the language of my heart into words.
Do you mean that?
Yes. There's Lucas.
Lucas was with a girl; both had their heads tilted and were peering around one of Nick's sculptures.
Luke looked round, saw Nick, and winked.
I should have told you, he said, my boyfriend was going to be here. Nick. It's his exhibition.
She looked at him with nothing passing across her face, but inwardly she held in a frustrated sigh.
He's cute, she said.
Yes, Lucas said.
And he seems to have a good feel for wood.
Are you sleeping with her? Nick asked Luke after they had left Eliot with a very sullen Robin at the Seventh Avenue subway kiosk at Sheridan Square a week after he had met Cynthia.
Would it bother you if I were? Luke said without answering.
No, Nick said.
Oh, Luke said.
You seem disappointed, Nick said.
No, Luke said; just surprised.
Does she know about you and me? Nick asked.
I said you were my boyfriend, Luke said, blushing.
And? Nick said.
She seemed disappointed.
I met her in school. We're in the same Art History class. She's doing a thesis on Edward Hopper.
Nick handed him the joint.
Not tonight, Luke said.
You're not staying?
Luke made a sheepish face.
I told Cynthia I'd look at slides with her.
Tonight?
She reserved the AV room at school.
Nick took another toke and snubbed the joint in the ashtray, making sure not to loose any grass doing it.
You're upset, Luke said.
I would have liked to spend the night with you, Nick answered with an affectionate, even maternal smile.
Don't make me feel guilty.
Do you want some coffee before you go?
I think I better just go.
Nick remained silent.
Ok, Luke said. See ya.
Yes, Nick said with an agreeable smile, suppressing an impulse to be ironic.
He's gone, Nick said.
And you?
I'm here.
You always are, Eliot said, taking him round his shoulders and pulling him close.
Nick looked into his eyes and kissed him with gentle turbulence, giving himself over entirely.
Jack behind the bar smiled, for he had seen them a few times over the last year and admired them as a couple.
He brought over two more vodka sours.
They're on the house, he said with a lingering wink.
What have we done to please the house?
You look good together.
Howard approached the bar.
They shook hands and touched lips.
You were good, Nick said.
Regarding what? Howard said.
I watched your show last night.
I hear you broke up with Luke.
He stopped seeing me. But what's that got to do with you?
Nothing, I guess.
Nothing you guess.
Don't be tart.
You're fun to tease, Howard, because you can ache without breaking.
How do you know? I've hardly gotten a full night's sleep during the last month, Howard said, and slumped, head on hands on the bar top.
With a gesture of the head, Nick signaled Eliot to leave them alone.
I'll be over for lunch at noon, Eliot said.
Good, Nick said.
The kissed the air between them and Eliot left, floating his hand an inch above Howard's neck to give an imaginary caress to the distraught man without disturbing him.
Howard, Nick said.
Howard turned and looked at him.
You're talking to me again.
I never wasn't talking to you.
I want you to be angry at me, Howard said and burst out crying.
Come with me, he said, placing a twenty on the bar.
Jack saw him doing it and raised his palm to prevent him, but Nick did it, nevertheless, and smiled in appreciation, but shook his head.
Howard rose.
Where we going? he said.
To the loft.
It wasn't far.
It's a beautiful place, Harold said as he looked around.
I'm privileged to have it, Nick said.
I've been lost all my life, Howard said.
You're a great man, Nick said. You reach millions of people. They listen to you. They read your books.
I've been lost all my life, going around in the dark, feeling for the walls.
Nick held him.
You are kind to do this, Howard said.
Let's go to bed, Nick said.
If you want, Howard said guardedly.
I want, Nick said.
He lit a few candles.
Wait, he said, as Howard started to pull at his tie. I want to do that.
Howard let his hands fall at his side, and with Nick standing in front of him, his eyes quickly followed them.
Don't look down, Nick said. Look at me. Hold me in your gaze and I'll fix you in mine.
Nick slowly undid the knot of his tie. When it was hanging free on either side, he undid the buttons of Howard's shirt and tore it open.
You're in pretty good shape for an old guy, Nick said. You look a lot younger.
I'm only forty-five, Howard said.
You look twenty-two to me, Nick said, and firmly gripped his nipples.
What is it you want Howard?
To be possessed by you.
Just for now?
For always.
I'm not sure I can promise that.
It doesn't matter, Howard said. It doesn't depend on you.
I don't want to hurt you, Howard.
I know, Howard said. But the way things are, it's inevitable.
If this were a movie of a certain period, the image on the screen would dissolve and transform itself into the waking lovers gazing into each others' eyes weak with desire and spent after its fulfillment.
There would not be shown the way their naked bodies intermeshed, how their breath became palpable, and how Nick entered Howard and held him fast in his glance as he brought him to his dancing self, the hidden man, the hungry boy who needed to surrender to love.
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