34
156 34 My friends kept call ing to cheer me up, leav ing in vi ta tions on the ma chine. Jimmy’s friends, Julie and Sam, ap peared one night after sev eral un re turned mes sages. There they were, all in black, show ered and beam ing. “We’re tak ing you out to din ner and Ura nus.” I man aged a smile, but I knew I’d never be able to han dle a night out with them. “Jimmy’s dead, you guys—we’re stay ing in.” And I tried to close the door. “No.” Sam’s mo tor cy cle boot held the door open. “Come on, Shame.” He pushed his way in and the two of them dug up an out fit for me and took me for Pak i stani food on 16th Street, where I was overly fas ci nated by the blood-orange color of the tan doori chicken; it was the only thing strange enough to seem inter est ing. We went from bar to bar; I gave it a go. It was great some times that in San Fran cisco you could go to queer clubs that wel comed straight peo ple and that straight peo ple weren’t afraid of. But this wasn’t one of those times. Be cause all I could do was scan the room for Jimmy, mes mer ized by every dark-eyed gangly boy. Like some par tic u larly tor ment ing ob ses sive com pul sion, I kept search ing, even though the min ute I saw one I was full of re gret for hav ing even looked. I even hated them a lit tle for play ing at Jimmy. Couldn’t they save that for an other day? Be some one else? 157 Even when I wasn’t look ing for Jimmy, there was a huge empty mouth wait ing in side the doors of all those clubs. It was in al most every face, and every heart less elec tronic song. Just be cause it beats like one doesn’t make it a heart. I grew dis gusted with the dumb same old dance, drink, blah, blah, blah, take home some sex like a doggy bag. Julie and Sam told me to cheer up, that I should have a bet ter at ti tude. Great, I’ve fi nally gone club bing with Dr. Pin ski. I felt guilty, of course, for dis miss ing their good in ten tions. But not for long. Cheer ing some one up is like “What-Not-to-Do-for-a-Depressed-Grieving-Potential-Suicide 1A.” I knew where those clubs would take me as I started to tear up and ask Jimmy, why’d you leave me here? I saw the ropes fray and break that con nected me to Sam and Julie. All it took was one trip to the bath room, one cute boy’s drug-addled stare, and the hole in the ozone of human ex is tence gaped open to full flower like the speech less, scream ing mouth of God him self. I knew my feel ings weren’t orig i nal. Ed vard Munch and a few oth ers had beaten me to it, but this was the 3-D hol o graphic ver sion. I pushed through the crowd and got out. And when I hit the side walk, I ran. I ran block after block, all the way home. Like a lit tle boy, scared, not know ing what to do—run ning the same route I’d run with Jimmy. Home to his bike and the rit ual space of our love, which was just four walls and a bay win dow, an aca cia tree and a cor ner liq uor store and a rick ety, rusted fire es cape, and the smell of Chi nese food, and two lit tle boys’ too-loud screech ings and TV vol ume, and those foreverblinking multi col ored Christ mas lights chas ing each other all through the strings on Chief Jo seph, light ing up the ceil ing and its plas tic glow ing stars and plan ets. And I draped his clothes all over the bike—the bat tered army shorts and the Red Hot Chili Pep pers T-shirt—sur round ing it like a make shift altar with a whole slew of Vir gin de Gua...
OR
Buy This Book in Print