The Castle

Ray and I lugged my big leather sofa up the front stoop and through the big doors.  We were both sweating our asses off.  Course, just my luck, Bruno and I picked the hottest day of the summer to move.

Bruno followed up behind us with his leather club chair, and Buck was right behind him hauling two stacked side tables for the living room.

At least it was going fast. 

“Hold on,” I said to Ray as the corner of the couch got hung up in the doorway.  “Stop for a minute.”  We halted and I switched my grip on the couch.  “Turn it that way,” I commented. 

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Ray muttered. We hoisted together and maneuvered the couch through the doorway at an angle.  We barely managed to squeeze the extra wide couch through the doorway and into the living room.

We set it down, and I looked around in satisfaction.  Bruno and I had bought the old Zuko place.  The hardwoods gleamed; refinished them myself.  Bruno and I had spent last weekend polishing all the beautiful and ornate mahogany woodwork throughout the house.

We had also gone antiquing the weekend before that, and bought an amazing china hutch, dining table, and secretary desk.  We had bought Turkish rugs for all the downstairs rooms, had gone shopping for artwork, and were having a distressed leather king-sized headboard custom-built just for us.  Tomorrow, we had an interior decorator come in to measure for drapes, and discuss paint and wallpaper colors.  In short, the house was going to be a showplace in short order. I couldn’t wait.

Bruno had talked me into moving back into the old neighborhood.  One night, I had told him how much I missed living in Little Italy, and how, for the most part, I had a happy childhood (except for the ‘being in the closet’ thing.) And the next night, he came home with the real estate section of the Sun-Times.  Bruno was that kind of guy.  That’s why I loved him so much.

Ray watched me standing there, grinning like a fool and looking around at the place.

“Pretty proud of yourself, huh?” he remarked.  But he was grinning too.  Ray wore a pair of knee length nylon shorts, a Michael Jordan jersey, and sneakers.  Clearly tired, he placed his hands of his hips.

“Yeah, well, it is one hell of an accomplishment,” I said.  “’member when we were kids…always checking this place out, walking by.  This place was like castle to us back then.”

Ray looked around with obvious awe.  “Still is,” he said.

The place had been on the market for a year now, I had discovered, for just under a cool million.  After negotiating hard for a couple of months, Bruno and I were able to get it for considerably less.   I had to sell my other investment properties, sure, and take on a hell of a monthly nut, but it was worth it, to see the faces of the folks from ‘round the way’ when I told them that I, the fag who’d gotten run out of the neighborhood a long time ago, had bought the biggest, grandest house that they never in a million years could afford.  It was a hell of a coup. 

“Just wait ‘til I get it all decked out,” I said.  “This place is going to be un-fucking-believable.  You and Ben gotta come to my Fourth of July party.  Bruno and I were talking about hiring a band and having a concert in the back yard.  We’re gonna get a big Texas smoker and roast a whole pig, hire a valet to park the cars…the whole works. You gotta come.”

“We’ll see,” Ray hedged.

Oh Ray.  Still wanted to keep his distance from the fags.  This was something he and I were going to have to work on, once I got settled into the house.  I shook my head and let it go for now.  “Come on, let’s go grab those mattresses.”  I gave him a slap on the ass as we both turned to go.

With the help of Bruno, and a small troupe of pretty Chelsea boys straight from the gyms of Boystown, we were able to get the furniture moved into the house pretty quickly.  Bruno had hired a couple of teens from St. T’s House to help move some stuff, too, and my cousin Tony and nephew Angelo helped out.  Maria and her mother even came by with a casserole, which we gobbled up pretty quickly.  I think more than anything, they were just being nosy and wanted to see the house, but that was okay by me.  I was happy to show it off. I escorted them from room to room, feeling like the Queen of England.

“So’s how’s Ben?”  I said as we now walked up the stairs carrying some light boxes.

“Ummm…he’s okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“You oughta bring him by this weekend to check out the place.” 

I had seen Ben a few times since I had run into him last summer in Boystown.  Last time I saw him, actually, was at this year’s Pride Parade.  He had come down with his daughter, minus Ray.  He stayed close to me and Bruno most of the day, and I introduced him around to everybody.  He seemed a little reserved, kind of quiet, but after a while, he kind of got into the spirit of things.  He still didn’t come to our White Party, though, but I know I’d wear him down over time.  Next year, for sure.  And I’d make him bring Ray too.

“Maybe another time, alright?” Ray said.  We stashed our boxes in the first bedroom on the right.  It was the smallest bedroom, and was going to be my office. 

“Hey, Tommy,” Ray said after he unloaded his box in the corner.  “Mind if I have a look around?”

“Course not,” I said. “La mia casa è la vostra casa, my man. Knock yourself out. I could use a siddown, anyway.” I plopped down on the floor, as we had not yet brought in my banker’s chair.

I watched Ray go, and sat on the cool floor with my eyes closed, listening to him move around from room to room.  I knew his ultimate destination.  Her room.  The room whose window he used to sneak into at night by climbing the thick woody wisteria.  The room in which they used to make love.   The room in which they shared their secrets.

I used to be so jealous of Irene.  Still am, really.   Ten years dead, and I was still jealous of her. 

Because he loved her. 

I smiled to myself, laughing at my own foolishness.  It became really quiet.  I could hear the boys downstairs, hear them knocking around, scuffling, hear them laughing.  I sat back against the sturdy plaster wall, and sighed.  I listened to myself breathe. Long minutes went by.

“Hey.” 

I opened my eyes. 

Ray was looking down at me, leaning in the door jam.  “You mind if I take off? You guys got it from here, right?”

“Why don’t you stay a little longer? We can order some pizza.  I can go pick up some beer.”

“Nah.  Got some place I gotta be.”

“Yeah? Where?”

Ray shrugged with one shoulder.  “Someplace.  Gotta see somebody.”

I looked him up and down.  He carefully avoided my gaze.  Mmm. 

“Well….okay.  Alright, then.”  I stood.  Already my leg muscles were getting stiff from the heavy lifting today.  “Thanks for helping out.  I owe you one.”  I came to him and gave him a quick hard hug. He squeezed me back.  “Call me soon, alright?” I said.  “Invite me over to the house, why don’t ya? Love to get some of that famous Vecchio pasta fagioli sometime.”

“You got it,” he said. 

I walked him down the stairs and out the door, where Ray said his good-byes to Bruno and the rest of the guys. 

I stood in the doorway for a while, and peered down the long sidewalk, watching the cars slow and people stare and try to figure out who was now in the old Zuko place.  I waved at a passing car. Rebelliously, I waved in a deliberately faggy way, one hand on my hip, limp-wristed.   The driver looked away and sped up.  I laughed and shrugged it off. 

I was here, I was queer, so they’d better get used to it.