An Infatuation (10 page)

“But I believe Harold played in the band to be near his friend, Mario. Has Harold told you about Mario, Stuart?”

Stuart laughed. “I’ve heard one or two of the Mario tales, right Harold?”

I squeezed Stuart’s hand until it turned bluer than a Democrat. “Hannah, is Mario here tonight?”

“Not yet. But he should be here soon.” Hannah seemed to understand. “I’m glad you found someone, Harold.” She smiled at Stuart. “Someone nice.”

“Thanks, Hannah.” We shared a knowing smile. “How about you? What have you been up to these ten years?”

Hannah answered as she pinned on my nametag. “I went to Vassar College. Now I manage an HMO. I’m the one who decides whether or not you can see a certain doctor that you want to see, which is funny because I’m married to a doctor. And I never see him either.” She giggled again, and my ears rang. “See, Harold, I was right back in high school. I told you we’d amount to something. I make great money, and I have a great medical plan… and it isn’t an HMO.” She whispered, “I have to admit that the work can be a bit of a drag, not drag like guys in dresses. Oh, I didn’t mean you guys wear drag because you’re gay.”

“Only at home and only on a Saturday night.”
Who knew Stuart was such a comedian?

After more giggling, Hannah said, “I know all gay guys don’t dress in drag. As I understand it, most cross-dressers are straight. But that doesn’t mean my husband dresses in drag. At least not that I know about.” The giggling continued like water breaking a dam. “How about you, Harold? I don’t mean do you dress in drag, I mean what do you do for a living? You were always such a good student.”

“I’m a grade school teacher.”

Hannah released a warm smile. “A gay grade school teacher. That’s great. Gay kids need role models in schools nowadays. I don’t mean that you tell them you are gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with kids knowing their gay teachers are gay, or married for that matter. They know their straight teachers are married.”

I rescued her. “Stuart designs computer games.”

More giggling ensued. “Don’t tell anybody, but I play them all the time at work. Somebody will be on the phone telling me about their sickness or uncovered medical bill, and I’m creating magical fawns in a medieval kingdom, gathering sweets in a candy forest, or shooting at pimps in a car chase.”

As Stuart beamed proudly, I again scanned the room, looking for Mario. Though my hero was nowhere in sight, I spotted my adversaries at the picture table. Except for the receding hairlines and too tight suits, Tommy and Keith looked just as I remembered them.

Hannah followed my glare. “I’ll never forget what those guys did to you in high school, Harold.”

“But you and Mario saved the day.”

Hannah shook her curly red locks from side to side. “One week’s detention was a slap on the wrist. They should have been expelled.”

“I assume they are the illustrious Tommy and Keith.” Always the optimist, Stuart added, “That was ten years ago, Harold. Maybe they’ve changed.”

As if on cue Tommy and Keith motioned me over to the picture table.

Stuart whispered in my ear. “We don’t have to go over there.”

I whispered back in his. “They can’t scare me any longer. I’m a teacher.”

Hannah chimed in. “They’ll turn out to be losers, just like Barbara and Mario. Mark my words, Harold.”

We told Hannah we would catch up with her later. At the picture table, the portal to the past, I again faced my enemies. After checking out my old high school yearbook picture, Stuart understudied for Mario as my bodyguard.

“Harold, that’s your name, right?” I nodded to Tommy, hoping he didn’t have the medicine ball hidden under the picture table.

“Right, Harold.” Keith echoed Tommy as if ten years hadn’t gone by.

True to form, Tommy took the lead. “Harold, have you seen Mario?”

I croaked out, “No.”

“If you see him, tell him his old buddies are looking for him. Okay?”

“Will do.”
Is it possible to sound like a frog with a frog in his throat?

Keith grinned at me. “I remember you and Mario were pretty tight back in high school.”

I didn’t grin back. “You remember that, do you?”

“Hey, Harold, I hope you aren’t angry about our prank back then. We were just playing with you, hoping to get a week off from school.”

“And we did,” added Tommy.

They slapped hands and laughed, which sent me back to my attack. “As I recall, you two also got thrown off the football team.”

Tommy retrieved the fumble. “We were tired of playing football anyhow. Right, Keith?” Tommy slapped Keith’s back.

“Right,” Keith replied obediently. “I think I had an injury anyways.”

Yeah, in your brain.

“What are you doing now, Harold?” Tommy and Keith asked in unison.

“I’m a grade school teacher.”

They smirked at one another. Tommy again took the lead. “Really? I thought that was for women.”

Stuart pointed to my pants. “Last we checked he was definitely male.”

Tommy laughed. “That’s a good one.” Assuming Stuart was another nerdy classmate too insignificant to remember, Tommy asked, “What’s your name again?”

“Stuart.”

Tommy pretended to remember. “Right, Stuart. What do
you
do now, Stuart?”

“I’m a designer… on the Internet.”

Tommy and Keith looked like sharks at a water park. “Really?” they said in unison.

Keith picked up the ball. “You must make good money doing that.”

I noticed a gleam in Stuart’s eyes. “Yes, very good money actually. Hannah was just telling me she never leaves my sites.”

I disappeared from his cosmos as Tommy unsuccessfully turned the charm on Stuart. “How interesting.” Tommy pretended to get an idea. “Hey, maybe we can work together sometime, Stuart.”

Keith proved he was no wordsmith. “Stuart. I like that name. It sounds really… smart. I bet you were smart back in high school.”

Stuart was having too much fun. “One of the smartest. Right, Harold?”

Before I could answer, Tommy put his arm around Stuart. “Stuart, Keith and I are looking for donors, like yourself.”

“Like
me
?”

“Yeah, guys who want to do their civic duty, help their fellow man, give their company a good reputation.

Keith added, “And have some political
clout
.”

Stuart pretended to consider the offer. “Really? What is it that you gentlemen are selling?”

Keith displayed a grin that looked like a toothache. “Tommy and I are selling…. America.”

Allowing his hand to move down Stuart’s back, Tommy explained. “I’m running for Congress, Stuart, and Keith is my campaign manager.”

Anybody have two tickets to Canada?

“What’s your platform?” asked Stuart with a cautioning look for me not to laugh.

“Ending the over-taxation of America,” Keith answered as if he was Hitler himself. “Stopping the insanity of the government’s endless payouts.”

I couldn’t resist. “So if you win you won’t be taking the salary, medical insurance, and pension?”

Ignoring me and rubbing Stuart’s back, Tommy said, “We want to give our old classmates the first shot at being partners in our campaign.”

Stuart further lodged his tongue into his cheek. “That’s very kind of you, Tommy.”

“We think so, Stuart.”

Keith added, as if sharing the location of Al Capone’s vault, “And once we win, we’ll unveil our
real
agenda.”

Stuart pretended to be mesmerized. “And what is
that
?”

Tommy whispered in Stuart’s ear. “Can we trust you?”

“Of course,” replied Stuart piously. “We’re old school chums, aren’t we?”

Looking satisfied, Tommy announced with the sincerity of a televangelist, “Saving the American family….”

From environmental pollution, war, homelessness, illiteracy, hunger, joblessness?

“…from the liberal, atheist, gay agenda that wants to take away your gun, your faith, and your family,” Tommy said, as if a US fundamentalist visiting Africa.

Stuart asked, “What about liberal, atheist, gay, gun-hating American families?”

After a pause where my heart skipped three beats, Tommy and Keith burst out laughing.

Tommy slapped Stuart on the back. “Good one, Stuart.”

Keith motioned to me and I flinched from force of habit. “This guy is still a riot. Just like in high school.”

Stuart gloated. “Glad you remembered.”

After the laughter died down, Tommy pointed to the bleachers and said, “Seriously, Stuart, look over there at those two beautiful ladies.”

Stuart and I noticed two overweight, masculine women with short haircuts and mismatched pants suits, sitting on a bleacher. They were drinking beer from the bottle and appeared more interested in one another than in the reunion.

“That’s why we are doing this,” explained Tommy.

For a women’s tennis team?

Tommy squeezed Stuart’s back. “For our
wives
. For our families. For
your
family. For
America
.”

With liberty and justice for all.

Keith rested his hand on Stuart’s shoulder. “You married, Stuart?”

“I am.”

“You have kids yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Think about this. Whose values do you want your children to have?”

Stuart asked, with a wink in my nervous direction, “I don’t know. Harold, whose values do we want our children to have?”

Not getting it, Keith asked, “Do you want your kids, and your buddy’s kids, to be influenced by the liberal agenda?”

Rehearsing his campaign speech, Tommy said, too grandly, “Or do you want your kids to grow up in a Christian nation, where nobody gets a handout….”

Didn’t Jesus preach to house the homeless, feed the hungry, and help the downtrodden?

“…a world where the institution of marriage never changes…”

Back to one white, landowning man with many women as his property.

“…and every man, woman, and child has the right to carry a gun….”

What happened to turn the other cheek?

And turn it did when a young, good-looking waiter walked by us carrying a tray of crab puffs.

After the waiter passed, Tommy gave Stuart his card, which surprisingly didn’t have a swastika as a logo. “Here’s my card, Stuart. Give me a call. We’ll talk about how you can play a role in the campaign. I also want to hear more about your business, and see what I can do for
you
after I’m elected.”

Keith took up the rear. “You have to decide, Stuart. Do you want to protect America, or don’t you?”

“I definitely want to protect America,” replied Stuart.

“Terrific!” Tommy and Keith smiled merrily at the dollar signs in front of them.

Stuart continued. “So I
won’t
be investing in your campaign.”

Tommy and Keith removed their hands, and their smiles vanished like clowns in the rain. Tommy spoke first, as usual, as he looked after the waiter. “You might change your mind, Stuart, when this nation is run by the liberals and the homosexuals.”

“I doubt it.” Stuart winked at me.

Realizing Stuart was no longer a prospect to fill their campaign coffers, Keith remembered I was in the room. “How about you, Harold?”

Still glancing over at the waiter, Tommy cut Keith off. “Harold won’t be interested, Keith. Don’t you remember? Harold was in the Democrat Club back in high school. And as I recall, he was”—he made quotation marks in the air with his fingers—“
struggling
with his sexuality
.”

I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Tommy, Keith, you’re trying to do to America what you tried to do to me back in high school. But no worries. You didn’t get away with it then and you won’t get away with it now.”

Tommy took a step closer to me. “And why is that, Harold?”

“Because even with all the tax-exempt money, political power, and right-wing media channels at your disposal, the majority won’t buy what you are selling.”

Parroting Tommy as usual, Keith took a step closer to me as well. “And why is that, Harold?”

“Because most people aren’t as misguided, greedy, and self-loathing as you two.”

Tommy took another step toward me. Stuart blocked his path and said, “A nasty incident at your high school reunion could hurt your campaign, Tommy.”

Realizing Stuart was right, Keith followed Tommy’s gaze to the waiter and said, “My appetite is out of control. Let’s leave these two losers and get something to eat.”

Tommy nodded lasciviously. “Sounds good. Then I have to hit the john.”

No doubt with a wide stance.

And Tommy and Keith were gone.

After I hugged Stuart for being… Stuart, he looked at his watch and realized it was 8:00 p.m., time for our evening multivitamins. So Stuart left me to get some bottled water from the drinks table, and I spotted Mr. Ringwood headed my way. He looked exactly the same, except ten years older. His bowtie bobbed underneath his smile as he gave me a warm embrace.

“Mr. Ringwood, I thought you retired.”

“I did, but I never miss a class reunion. The teachers used to come. I guess now they are all too busy doing whatever they do on
social media
.” He said it as if naming a deadly disease.

“Thank you for finding me, Mr. R.”

“My pleasure, Harold. Tell me, what have you been up to, young man?”

“I’m a teacher, grade school, happily married to the man downing vitamins over there.”

I waved to Stuart, and he waved back, nearly needing the Heimlich maneuver to cough up a vitamin.

Mr. Ringwood nodded his approval. “Very nice.”

I scanned the room again in search of the absent Mario.

Mr. R. seemed to understand. “Have you seen Mario yet?”

“Not yet.”

“When you do, I hope there aren’t any fireworks with hubby.” He raised his eyebrows naughtily.

“Mr. R., you knew I had a crush on Mario back in high school?”

“I was old but not dead.”

“Did other people at school know?”

“Of course. You two were so adorable. Even the cleaning staff was rooting for you.”