Eric

December 17, 1995

"So, Robert....where've you been?" I ask. Robert's an old friend, colleague and patient. I did some orthroscopic on his knees when he tore his ligaments skiing a couple of years ago. He's a good doctor and a great guy. And now, thanks to me, he has great knees again.
"Paris."
"Lucky bastard. No pain at all when you run?"
"Well, my knees are sore but not from running," he says playfully. Heâs a bit of a flirt, too. I play along, what the hell?
"From what??" I ask innocently.
"From whom, my friend, from whom!" he exclaims. "Phillipe Gautier, my new reason to travel abroad. I'm feeling amazing, Eric. I met him at a spa north of Paris. Heâs a masterful masseur, not like those hustlers who advertise in those awful rags."
I love those ads. I spend days with those ads. I don't even need to call, the ads are enough. I finish checking his knee. I did a good job. "It looks great Robert. Youâve got real good movement in both knees, nothing loose, nothing rattling. Iâd keep wearing the knee supports if youâre doing anything really strenuous - like genuflecting," I joke.
"My compliments to the doctor," Robert replies. "You know, youâre wasting your time in this clinic."
"What do you propose? I should tender my resignation and walk into Granville Sports Clinic?" Granville Sports Medicine is the top sports medicine clinic on the westside. They have the finest orthopedic team in the country. I would kill to get in there.
"Yeah, smart ass," Robert says, very matter-of-factly.
"You mock me, Rob. Donât tease." I pretended to be hurt, wishing that he wasnât kidding.
Heâs not. "I know for a fact theyâre looking for a new orthopedic. I think youâre it." I feel my jaw drop. "I told them to call you."
"Rob...I donât know what to say," I stammer after I manage to get control of my voice.
"Say that youâll keep taking care of my new knees, even after youâre a hotshot MD to the stars," he jokes.
I was quivering with excitement as I called Andrew at the catering office..."Hi, is Drew McKinley there? Lunch? Do you know where? Thanks. Bye." Greg!
Get a life, Greg and stop living ours.
Granville Sports. Me. Holey moley.

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Andrew

December 16, 1995

"Three eventy-nine, three-eighty...Three hundred eighty-five bucks Greg.... I think I made a back my entire investment in porn magazines and then some!"
"Oh yeah," yelled Greg, and then he walked out from the bedroom with a stack of magazines in his arms.
"What about all these?"
"What? Theyâre classics! I have to keep those!"
Greg held up one of the magazines "The inaugural copy of 'Dragazine'!? Andrew, who knew? What else are you keeping that Eric doesnât know about?"
"That old 50's chair," I said, pointing to a tattered floral patterned easy chair.
"Thatâs ugly. I wouldnât want that in my house."
"Itâs ugly now. But itâll look great after I refinish it. Give me something to do."
"Yeah," Greg remarked. "It'll give you something to do so you donât Îdoâ Mark Fitzgerald."

I froze. If I donât move suddenly, I wonât deck him.
"Aw come on.......spill it, Andrew! Who is this guy?"
I took a deep breath. I had to tell someone, I suppose. It might as well be Greg. I picked up my yearbook and pointed Mark out in the swim team picture.
"He was my first..." I hedged.
"What," Greg pressed. "First kiss, first date, what???"
"My first -- everything! Okay?" I blurted out. "He was my first real relationship." My head was in a whirl remembering that first night. "He kissed me on the Senior Lawn."
"Wow. Thatâs rich. Did you do it?"
"Yeah, we did it."
Greg came with his perennial question. "How big?"
"None of your damn business!" I bit back, realizing it may have sounded a little harsh.
Greg caught it too. "Oooooh, is there some unfinished business, Drew?"
I grabbed the yearbook, and took one last look.
I thought to myself, ÎThis time next week you'll be living with the man you love in a beautiful house, a place thatâs home.â I suddenly broke into a big grin and felt reassured.
"No," I said. "Business is all finished."
I closed the pages on my yearbook, saying good-bye to Mark Fitzgerald. I hope.

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Andrew

December 17, 1995

"I'll have the Cajun avocado mayonnaise hamburger, rare, with fries and a diet coke. Oh, and a Caesar salad.ä
"I hate this place....it's all so full of fat,ä whined Greg. ãI'll have the Santa Fe Salad, no dressing, no tortilla, no cheese, no chicken."
"No fun," the waiter smirked, and disappeared inside the restaurant.
*****
No sooner had we ordered, than Greg started in on me about Mark. So, instead, I told him about my morning...
"I just sliced my hand open making 500 pounds of tuna tartare and here comes the owner's son, Rudy. He's all over me like a bad smell! He rips open the Band-Aid with his stained teeth and wraps it so tight around that it's throbbing, and then... and then... he KISSES MY FINGER!"
"Itâs nice that he takes a personal interest in his employees," Greg laughed. I didnât really see anything amusing about it.
"Later, I'm putting leaves of basil on the Belgian endive and he moves up behind me and whispers in my ear, ÎI'm in the mood for a little Andrew tartare.â"
"You should change your name to Anita Hill!"
"This is not even remotely funny, Greg. This is harassment!"
"All right! All right! Rudyâs an ass. You should sue. Now, letâs talk about Mark Fitzgerald."
I choke on my fries, spilling ketchup on my tie. The cute boys at the next table take notice and giggle. Catty bastards. "Why? Mark is the last thing I want to talk about," I cough.
"Was he really gonna be on the US Swim Team in the '84 Olympics?" asked Greg.
"Yeah. So what?"
"So, that's amazing, stupid. Why'd he quit?"
"Beats me,ä I shrugged. ã He was a great swimmer but he hated the competition. Maybe he wanted something that wouldn't turn his hair green."
"How long were you together?"
"A year in college." I took a breath, and the memory flooded back to me. "He left me standing on the gym floor after a basketball game."
"Do you think he still loves you?"
"Let me repeat -- HE left ME. Besides, it's been years."
"Do you still love him?"
"Leave it alone, Greg. Mark and I were a lifetime ago. As far as Iâm concerned heâs just an old friend."
"An old friend who makes you hot every time you think about him?" smirked Greg, and I felt the heat rising in my face.

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Andrew

December 18, 1995

"20, 21, 22, 23, breathe....24, 25, 26, 27, breathe...." It feels good to be back in the water. Iâm back in college, training for nationals. My bodyâs a sleek missile, knifing through the water!!
"28, 29, 30, 31, breathe... McKinley! Get your chest out of the water, Arms higher, McKinley!" I can still hear Mark standing at the pool, screaming at me to go harder, faster...
Agghghgghghg! Change your thoughts, Andrew...okay, okay.
"32, 33, 34, 35, breathe..."
*
"So, Eric...is today the big day?" I asked hopefully, over a glass of juice. "I mean, it's your Mom's birthday - I can't think of a better gift than to tell her the most important thing in your life -- that you're a screaming homosexual and PROUD of it!"
"...uh, well, Drew, yeah, maybe, maybe, if she's up to it..."
"If she's up to it? How 'bout if you're up to it, Eric Lewis?!?"
"You don't understand Mom, Drew. She's -- "
"No, how could I understand your Mom? I've never met her. Any time they come for a visit, you send me off to a spa for the weekend while you play the straight boy!"
"I'm sorry. If you don't want to move in...," he stuttered.
"Of course, I want to move in, but dammit, Eric. Don't you think it's about time? You said youâd tell her by Christmas and baby, itâs here! The goose is getting fat.... You gotta cook it!"
*
"36, 37, 38, 39, breathe....40, 41, 42, 43, breathe..."
Who is that staring at me?
"Come on, McKinley -- get your chest higher!"
Oh, my God...it's Mark Fitzgerald? I miss my stroke and get a mouthful of water. How in the hell...
"Just like the old days, Andrew. But I'm still the better swimmer," he says as he dives into the far end and courses through the chlorine towards me. I'm frozen...feeling guilty already!
"But look, I've perfected the Dog Paddle!" I demonstrate.
That gets him. He's laughing hard, takes in some water and he's choking with laughter...good.
He looks exactly the same as our first year in college, his Speedos filled out like no other man I know. He's stopped shaving his body so the water doesn't slide off him like it used to. It clings, like rain.
"What are you doing here?" I ask him, as we towel off. I keep my distance.
"My gym was closed and I have a friend who works here. I can't believe how great it is to see you!"
All of a sudden, I'm standing on that damn basketball court and Mark Fitzgerald, varsity swim captain, Olympic star-to-be, is dumping me. The dizziness, the anger, the grief...
"Lovely to see you," I say politely. "I have to go,"
"What is it?" he asks.
ÎYou know damn well what, doll, â I say to myself, bitterly. To him, I say, "Iâm late for a meeting." And I leave him standing alone at the pool.

(GAY DAZE

Andrew

December 19, 1995

Date:       Wednesday, December 5, 1995 10:42 EDTFrom:       Buff DudeSubject:    Miami RhapsodyTo:         Bad DrewYo -- Bad Boy!How's the move going? Are you at each other's throats yet?I'm in Miami, making an animal of myself -- having a blast, going to every party I can find. Tearin' the town up like you wouldn't believe!   To hell with domestic bliss -- you should be here with me!I'm sending you a computer picture  of the latest conquest... enjoy. Back in LA in four days -- we'll "chat" then. E-MAIL me, you dork!The B-Dude

*
I laughed at the e-mail. Weâve been Îpen palsâ for months, and this guy never stops. And still, I wonder what heâs really like. I made myself comfortable and pecked away. After all, one good e-mail deserves another.
*

Date:       Thursday,  1995 5:42 EDTFrom:       Bad DrewSubject:    Miami Rhapsody, reply, plus my "Day of Hell"To:         Buff DudeHey!   Don't want to hear about your escapades. having in Miami -- entirely too tempting.... I mean, I'm thrilled to be moving in with E. but -- everyone has these thoughts, don'tthey, Don't They? DON'T THEY!!! (Kidding)Hate my job.  Nothing new. This is NOT what I planned for my career! Catering Manager at Royal-Pain-In-The-Ass- Catering!The office gossip, the office politics, the office hierarchy - you'd think it was the damn Pentagon. And for what? Some grilled Portobello Polenta! Any ideas for new careers are welcome.  What do you do for a living???  Meanwhile, an old flame has reared his gorgeous head. But that's a whole other sort of E-Mail.Have a fun. PLAY SAFE!Bad Drew.

Eric

December 17, 1995

Andrew

December 16, 1995

Andrew

December 17, 1995

Andrew

December 18, 1995

Andrew

December 19, 1995

*****I laughed at the e-mail. Weâve been Îpen palsâ for months, and this guy never stops. And still, I wonder what heâs really like. I made myself comfortable and pecked away. After all, one good e-mail deserves another.*****

*
I laughed at the e-mail. Weâve been Îpen palsâ for months, and this guy never stops. And still, I wonder what heâs really like. I made myself comfortable and pecked away. After all, one good e-mail deserves another.
*