The Tin Box Page 7

  As he stood in the doorway, William imagined Bill sitting on one side of the room, silent and miserable, while his parents faced him. The doctor was nearby, doing most of the talking.

  God, why hadn’t Bill run away with Johnny when he had the chance?

  With bile burning the back of his throat, William returned to his apartment.

  Eight

  “SO WHAT did you think of Jesse and Brett?”

  William blushed and looked furtively around, even though he knew he and Colby were alone in the general store. “It was… interesting,” he mumbled.

  “Interesting like ‘gotta drop everything so I can finish reading this’ or interesting like a car wreck on the side of the road?”

  “More… more the former, I guess.” William rubbed the back of his sweaty neck. “I don’t know anything about horses so I don’t know if the cowboy stuff was accurate.”

  Colby rolled his eyes. “It’s a romance novel, not a how-to manual. Although I’ve learned a thing or two from porn over the years.”

  William gave him a wan smile. “I’m, um, I need a few things. Groceries.”

  “Mi tienda es tu tienda.”

  After picking up a wire basket, William slowly strolled the aisles. Colby was busily swearing at a calculator and a stack of papers that looked like invoices, so for once he didn’t tag along to give commentary. William had peace as he chose between canned peas and corn, and then between sliced ham and sliced turkey. The peace was less pleasant than he expected. He took a long time shopping and didn’t return to the counter until his basket was almost overflowing.

  Colby shoved aside the pile of invoices to make room for William’s purchases. “That’s quite a haul. Planning to go into survival mode?”

  “I just need a lot of things.”

  “Sure. Did you want another book? If Stetsons and chaps aren’t your thing, maybe I can recommend something else. What’s your type, Will?”

  William was too taken aback at the question to complain about the nickname. “Type?”

  “Yeah. What kind of guy do you go for? Bears? Twinks? Jocks? Men in uniform? Who gets your pulse racing?”

  “I don’t… I don’t know.”

  Colby squinted at him, puzzled. “Whattaya mean, you don’t know? What kind of men do you hook up with? Or at least dream about hooking up with.”

  The blush returned to William’s cheeks with a vengeance. “I don’t… I haven’t… I never….”

  “Oh. My. God. You’re a virgin!”

  This time, William flinched. Then he looked down at the counter, as if he found his loaf of whole wheat bread fascinating. “I am not. I was married, remember?”

  “Pfft.” Colby flapped a hand dismissively. “I mean men. You’ve never had sex with a man.”

  William very much wished he weren’t having this conversation. He could feel the heat in his ears and knew they must be as red as his face. He wasn’t even sure which part embarrassed him the most—talking about sex, talking about gay sex, or talking about his lack of experience with gay sex. He would have marched right out of the store, but Colby hadn’t rung up his purchases yet.

  At any rate, Colby wasn’t being cruel about the whole thing. He just looked slightly flabbergasted. “Okay,” he said. “So you’re a virgin. What kind of guys do you like in your porn?”

  “I don’t look at porn.”

  “Then what do you jack off to?”

  William made a strangled noise.

  But Colby had no pity, it seemed. “Seriously, Will. What gets you hot and horny?”

  “I don’t masturbate.”

  “Why the hell not? I mean, okay, I guess maybe when you were married you got enough het action to take the edge off. But what about before you were married? And now?”

  “I—I….” The only time William had ever discussed sex with another man was during his therapy sessions, and of course back then the other man had been busily telling him how evil homosexuality was. He hadn’t even talked about sex much with Lisa. Sex was just something they did together, like watching 60 Minutes or folding the laundry.

  Clearly, what was needed here was a clinical approach. “Conditioning,” William said.

  “Huh?”

  “I don’t masturbate to homosexual pornography because the resulting pleasurable responses would only reinforce unwanted thoughts.”

  Colby had to think about this for a moment. “Why don’t you want them reinforced? Oh! I get it. That’s why you got married too. You didn’t want to be queer.”

  William gave a stiff little nod.

  “Why not?” Colby asked. “Religion? Family? Political aspirations?” He gave a little grin at the last suggestion.

  “Um, the first two.”

  “Okay. And now?”

  “I guess….” William shrugged. “I guess I’m kind of in recovery from being ex-gay.”

  Colby bounced on his toes. “Mazel tov! I’ll help. I’ll be your fairy godfather!”

  William was positive that he didn’t need anyone’s help, most especially Colby’s. But Colby looked delighted, like a child handed a new puppy, and William didn’t quite have it in him to disappoint the guy. “I think my ice cream’s melting,” he said mildly, pointing at the carton.

  “Big deal. Here you are, emerging from your cocoon all bright and shiny, and you’re worried about a little defrosted dairy product.” But Colby quickly finished ringing up the items and shoved them into plastic bags. When William handed him money, Colby gave him change absentmindedly. He was clearly thinking about something else.

  “Tell you what,” Colby said as William gathered his purchases. “Day after tomorrow’s my day off. I’m gonna head over to the nuthouse. I always wanted to see the inside. And I’ll give you a grand introduction to the world of gay porn. By the end of the lesson you will know exactly what kind of man you lust after and you’ll know where to find them on the Internet.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Day after tomorrow. Noonish? I like to sleep in on my off days.”

  It was very clear that Colby would not be dissuaded. And honestly, William wasn’t sure he really wanted to deter him. So he nodded again and walked to the door, the plastic bags rustling in his hands. But before he stepped out into the heat, he turned toward the counter.

  “Colby? What’s your type?”

  Colby dimpled. “Geeks.” And then he winked.

  WILLIAM did more data analysis the next day. It was hard to concentrate, however, with his thoughts bouncing back and forth between Bill and Colby. He couldn’t believe he’d agreed to let Colby come over and look at porn with him. Even thinking about it made him blush. But thinking about Bill made him sad, and maybe embarrassment was better than depression.

  Late in the afternoon, he received an e-mail from Lisa. It was short and businesslike—she wanted to let him know that the lawyer had filed the preliminary papers and everything was going smoothly. Also, she told him, she’d be switching back to her maiden name. He wasn’t surprised about that. She’d always hated being Lisa Lyon. There was nothing angry or incriminating in her words, but then there never had been. She’d been disappointed and pitying, but never angry. “I can tell you tried,” she said to him as he was moving out. He wondered if the split would have been easier for them both if they hated each other.

  He e-mailed her back, thanking her for the update. He almost apologized again, but didn’t. And before he sank too deeply into self-pity, he decided to read another letter.

  The writing in this one was different than the earlier ones. The script was less neat and several words had been crossed out and started again. The lines of text weren’t even. Some slanted upward, some down, and some curved like a bow.

  Jan. 5. 1939

  My dearest Johnny,

  I didn’t know the date. I had to beg Dr. Fitzgerald to tell me. I lost the summer and the autumn.

  I’m a prisoner but it’s Dr. Fitzgerald who should be locked up. He’s a thief. He stole all those months from
me. Stole little bits of myself. I go looking for them sometimes and find them missing.

  You’d hardly recognize me now, Johnny. They shaved my head. Remember how we’d lie in your bed and you’d run your fingers through my hair? You said it was soft like silk. Now it’s just itchy stubble on my head.

  And I’ve become fat! You might find that hard to picture. I haven’t any mirrors, but I imagine I must look awful. It feels strange, as if someone replaced my body with another while I was asleep. The doctor says it’s due to the insulin. I’ll probably be skinny again soon, from eating the terrible food here. Which is good. In case you come to spirit me away, I don’t want to be too heavy to move.

  I do still want you to rescue me, my love. The insulin didn’t cure me. Sometimes during those lost months I’d almost dream of you, as if you were a ghost flitting through my sleep.

  Sometimes I almost believe that I am insane and you were never real.

  The man in the cell next to me screams and cries all night. I heard the staff saying that he was a soldier, that he lost his mind in the Great War and never found it again. Twenty years, Johnny. He’s been here twenty years. I would never survive so long.

  Do you remember the first time we met? Of course you do. Nobody’s stealing bits of you. My father had hired you to deliver a load of furniture from the train station to the store, and the train was late so he made me stay to wait for you. You laughed when I tried to help you carry that heavy table and I wanted to be angry with you but you were far too handsome for that. Do you regret that evening now? Do you wish it had been Edward there instead, Edward who would have easily helped with the carrying and who would not have blushed at your gaze?

  I’m glad it was me.

  Don’t, don’t let them steal you from me.

  Yrs always,

  Bill

  Nine

  WILLIAM’S cell phone beeped a few minutes before noon and he startled violently. He’d been jumpy all morning. He hadn’t been able to get any work done at all and instead had restlessly paced the hospital grounds. There was a surprising amount of wildlife. Birds and bugs mostly, but also squirrels and lizards, and once he saw a garter snake disappearing into some overgrown grass. He wondered if there had been so many creatures around back in Bill’s day, and whether Bill had the chance to see them through his window or during his courtyard outings.

  Eventually, William went back inside and showered. He wasn’t sure what clothing was appropriate for a pornography lesson and, after rejecting the sport coat and tie, ended up choosing his khaki shorts and gray tee. He fussed with his hair before giving up on it.

  He felt stupid.

  And that was when his phone beeped and he leapt wildly. “Hello?” he said, a little breathlessly.

  “I’m at the gate. Come let me in.”

  William jogged out of his apartment, down the hall, and out the front door. After he ran through the parking lot and then turned the corner, he saw a figure on the other side of the gate. Colby was straddling a bicycle and waving at him.

  “You rode over?” William asked as he unlocked the gate.

  “Told you. My car’s DOA. Besides, it’s good exercise.” He hopped off the bike, waited for William to lock back up, and then wheeled the bike as they walked to the main building.

  Colby turned his head from side to side as they went, taking a good look around. “We used to dare each other to break in here when I was a kid, but I don’t know anyone who actually did. The place is supposed to be haunted. Have you seen any ghosts?”

  William was going to tell him that there was no such thing, but that wasn’t really true, was it? Bill’s spirit might not be floating around in a bedsheet, yet he’d been haunting William ever since the discovery of the tin box. “Nope,” William said.

  Colby looked a little disappointed. “But isn’t it kind of scary at night, when you’re here all alone?”

  “Not really. It’s a sad place, Colby, not a frightening one.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. How come they closed it down? I mean, did there used to be more crazy people or something?”

  “No. But they invented drugs to treat mental illness, and they ended up deinstitutionalizing most people. Except a lot of people don’t get the meds or outpatient care they’re supposed to, and then they end up homeless or in prison.”

  Colby nodded. “Yeah. There were a lot of those people in San Francisco. That used to scare me to death, seeing those street people. I mean, what if that was me someday? Not that I’m nuts or anything, but I guess I could be. Anyone could be.”

  William nodded. “And the definition of mental illness changes, so what’s considered sane at one time and place….”

  They continued the rest of the way in silence. Colby left the bike leaning against the wall near the front door. He looked around curiously as they walked inside.

  “Want the tour?” asked William.

  “Not yet.” Colby grinned and punched him lightly on the arm. “I bet you’re kinda nervous, and I’m thinking maybe you’ll only get more anxious, so we might as well get down to business first.”

  “Business?” William’s throat clicked when he swallowed.

  Colby looked at him expectantly, and William led them down the hall to his apartment. Once inside, Colby took a few minutes to look around. He made approving noises over the bookshelves and pronounced the tiny kitchen adorable. Back in the main room, he spun around slowly. “I love how it’s cozy but you have all this space too.”

  “It’s… it’s okay.”

  “Will, I am twenty-seven years old and I’m living in my grandparents’ spare bedroom. I get around on a bicycle. Basically, I’m right back where I was when I was twelve. This is way more than okay.”

  “You’re twenty-seven?”

  “Ah, but my buoyant enthusiasm makes me seem much younger. How old are you?”

  “Thirty-two,” William answered, a little morosely.

  “Ancient.” Colby rubbed his hands together. “Shall we begin, Padawan?”

  “Um, I guess.”

  Colby sighed theatrically. “We’re not preparing for your execution, Will. This is supposed to be fun. And you have a faithful and trusty guide. Jeez, when I first started exploring this stuff I was, like, thirteen and on my own, and I stumbled into some stuff that scared the crap out of me.” He held up his hand in a Boy Scout salute. “I solemnly swear to steer you towards the really vanilla stuff to begin with. Unless you want spicy.”

  William had a headache. “Vanilla,” he mumbled.

  “Excellent.” Colby skipped across the room, plopped down on the chair in front of the laptop, and twisted around to look at William. “Come on over. I promise I won’t bite.”

  With considerable trepidation, William scooted a chair beside him and sat down. He felt ridiculous. He was quite capable of finding Internet porn on his own. Except, well, he’d always avoided it. And the truth was, it was kind of exciting to be inches away from Colby, who smelled like cinnamon gum and newly mown grass and who grinned wickedly at him.

  Colby tip-tapped at the keyboard. But before he surfed away from William’s home page, he turned to look at him. For once, his face was solemn. “You know, this isn’t mandatory. If you wanna skip the porn thing we can just hang out.”

  “I don’t—”

  “You look like I’m about to waterboard you.” Colby set a hand on William’s bare knee. He set it lightly, yet his fingertips sent electric thrills through William’s nervous system. William stopped himself from jerking away, but was aware that the expression on his face was probably approaching full-on panic.

  The last time he’d watched porn was when his parents had sent him to that terrifying therapist. The man had fastened on the electrodes and then stuck a videotape into the VCR. As soon as the naked men in the video were deeply into their kiss, the therapist had flipped a switch and— No. That was a long time ago. There was no machine now, and no frighteningly misguided therapy. Just Colby with his optimism, his kindness, and his
sweet smile.

  “It’s just… new,” William said quietly.

  “I know. And you—well, I don’t know what your issues are and I don’t wanna freak you out. So no biggie if you don’t want to do this.”

  William appreciated being given an escape route. But as nervous as he was, a big part of him did want to do this, and another big part was generally disgusted at going all faint-hearted over something so stupid. So he pasted on a smile and even managed a couple of pats of his palm against the back of Colby’s hand. “I’m being an idiot. Go ahead.”

  “Hey, it’s okay. I freak out over anything bloody, even if it’s in a movie, and needles practically make me pass out. We each have our Achilles’ heel.” The smile had returned to his face. He squeezed William’s knee before letting go and turning back to the screen. “Okey-doke. Let’s give this a try. Oh, but I gotta remind you. This is porn, right? In real life, hardly anyone’s this gymnastic, and some of these positions will be mainly for the camera.”

  His typing resumed, and a moment later a web page with photos of handsome, wholesome-looking young men appeared. “So, I like this site a lot. Nothing wild, but the guys are pretty cute without being too fakey-looking.”

  “Do you… spend a lot of time surfing sites like this?”

  Colby laughed. “Not a lot a lot, but yeah. In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s not much local action in JV. I have a couple of pals, sometimes we Skype each other for some live show-and-tell, but we have to find times when they’re free and my grandparents aren’t gonna be listening in.”

  William supposed a small town and live-in relatives would hamper one’s sex life. He watched as Colby clicked on a few thumbnails, squinted at the resulting pictures, and then moved on. “Do you ever do anything, um, not online?” William asked.

  “Used to. Even after I moved back to JV, I’d head into San Francisco for a couple of days and some quick hookups. Or sometimes I’d find someone on Grindr or Manhunt or something and we’d meet up in Fresno.” This time, he started a video clip that made William blush: a naked young man on his knees, enthusiastically stroking his own penis while another young man stood in front of him, grinding his groin into the kneeling guy’s face. But apparently Colby found the clip unsatisfactory because he closed it up again.