Hidden Away (40 page)
“Then you are a fool.”
“I might be, but fools are happy. I would rather live a short life of true happiness than lingering years of fear and closed emotion.” Charles looks to me as he finishes off his drink, then returns his gaze to Kurt. “Don’t you want something better for yourself?”
Before Kurt can answer, Charles amends, “Something better for John? If you cared about him, you’d want his happiness.”
“What is better?” Kurt says, his voice hushed but strong like the first evening I spent with him and the Fourniers. “A quiet, hidden life or a life inside stones and barbed wire? A life of solitude or a life of suffering? Tell me which you would prefer, because I’ve experienced both, and I will not let one happen again.
Never
again.”
“I understand, but you’re not living a life of solitude. You have invited John into your days, and so you’ll have to compromise, won’t you? You can’t expect him to hide just because you’re frightened of—”
“Stop it,” I say.
“Fine,” Charles says, “I won’t speak for you, but it does us all a disservice to continue living as though we have no right to a happy existence. It’s not a curse to be queer.”
No one has anything to say back, so Charles continues. “One day things will be different. People will look back and wonder how society could’ve—”
“It already has. I look at the books in your university library. Already, there are hundreds on the conflicts with the Nazis but not one is about the homosexuals. Not one is about the history of
us
. We’re already forgotten because society does not wish to confront something they don’t understand —something they choose not to understand. It’s easier to push it down, control it, and kill it.”
“Men like me? What about men like you? I’ve known men like you. Who weren’t careful. They are dead. I was not careful and friends were killed because of it. I shouldn’t need to share my story with anyone to get them to understand the danger.”
Charles doesn’t know what to say. He lights a cigarette but doesn’t take his eyes off of Kurt.
“Perhaps we can just agree to disagree,” Jules suggests.
“Yes,” I chime in. Charles nods, but says nothing.
“I think it is time to depart,” Kurt says. My heart sinks until I look up and see that he’s looking at me and not Jules.
I stand up, thrilled that he wants to leave with me. Before I can go, Charles places a light hand on my forearm. “I didn’t mean for it to go like that. I’m sorry, John.”
A quick glance reveals that Jules is quietly talking with Kurt, keeping his attention off Charles and me. “I know. Besides, it’s probably good for him to be challenged.”
“I don’t need help,” I say. “Just a little bit of understanding, and he does.”
When we arrive at my house, we don’t speak of dinner. We don’t speak of anything for a long time. In fact, the silence is overwhelming as we sit out on my porch, watching the night deepen. It is as if we’re back to being strangers.
I start eyeing the bottle of whiskey as I chain smoke my way through three cigarettes. Finally, when I can’t stand it anymore, I ask, “What are you thinking?”
I assume he’ll take a while to answer, but he proves me wrong. “I’m thinking of how Peter dreamed of living in the south of France where we could make music all day and love all night, unafraid of being rounded up like livestock for slaughter.”
Peter and Kurt making love. As much as I want to be a good and decent man, the irrational jealousy burns in me. “Oh.”
“Are you attracted to Charles?” It’s out of my mouth before I can bite it back.
The shy smile he gives me threatens to melt the nonsensical rage. “No. I’m attracted to you.”
He makes it so I don’t have to say anything by moving to me. Kurt takes my hand, tugs me into the house, and leads me through it. In my room, he curls around me on the bed.
“Peter wasn’t as blatant as Charles, but he was more open about things than I was. Still, it was
my
uncle who turned me in. It was
me
who gave the Gestapo a name that then led to Peter. I wish I could be like Charles—like Peter. I wish to be free but….”
“You’re perfect how you are. You don’t have to explain yourself to me or Charles or anyone. I’m a discreet man as well. I understand your caution.”
I mean it as a joke, but he remains serious. “No. I mean, yes. Well, no. Not just sexual.” Kurt fiddles with the bottom of my shirt, then pushes a hand up under it. The zing of his flesh on mine makes my cock stiffen.
“Shhh.” I quiet him with a finger on his lips. “You’ve told me enough to understand your fear, but what’s the point of living if we can never feel love? I don’t want to think I fought that war for nothing. If we don’t at least
try
for something beautiful, was it worth anything? What you went through, how Peter suffered, is horrible, but at least you’ve known love, Kurt.”
I place a kiss on his forehead and continue. “I’ve never known love.” My throat is suddenly dry, so I swallow several times before adding, “Before.”
“Before?”
“Before now,” I say. “And if what you felt —
feel
—for Peter is anything like what I feel for you, I can’t help but think you’re lucky to have had that.” I stare at the ceiling, but push out the words I long to say. “
I
feel lucky to have it.”
Kurt rises up on an elbow and looks down at me. “If I let myself love you, do you promise to be careful?”
“Haven’t we already had this discussion?” I can see he won’t be distracted from getting an answer, so I give him one. “Yes. I won’t take risks. I won’t jeopardize you or what we have.”
I sit up, face close to his, and place my hands at his sides. Slowly, he inches closer until our lips meet. The kiss is soft and tentative at first, but then Kurt pulls off his shirt, followed by mine. After that, he’s a flurry of motion, kisses, hands, and flesh.
He’s moving so fast I’m not sure I can keep it together. His mouth is wet and warm as it travels down my body. I can’t think; he’s working me so well.
Right before the point of no return—the point where I thrust with abandon, without care of anything else—I manage to pull him away. I flip us over and grin against his mouth. “My turn.”
Mimicking his previous actions, I lick and nip down his belly until I get where I want to be. I love the sounds he makes and want to hear more.
Kurt puts his hands on my head, fingers threading through my hair. His hips buck, and he pulls my hair painfully, but I keep up with what I’m doing to him.
As soon as I hear it, I back off, but he pulls me down on top of him and wraps his body around mine. Without words, I know what he wants. I want it too, so I reach over to the drawer next to the bed, and within moments, I push into him.
Kurt is silent, so I move back, resting on my heels. His expression is a mixture of emotions, and I don’t know what to do until he reaches up for me, bringing me back down.
Shifting, I’m over him again, between his legs. My cock is pressed against his naked flesh. I kiss him even harder than before, but then say, “I’ll stop if you want.”
But he doesn’t stop me. He opens himself to me, lets me touch him, and when we’re finished, he doesn’t leave me. Kurt doesn’t hide in the bathroom to cry. I feel his quiet tears on my shoulder, but am comforted by the fact that he’s not hiding in a place where I can’t help him. And I am not running to the bottle to quiet my mind. I am here, holding him and letting him feel what he needs to feel, and allowing myself the same.
I scoot down until my face is level with his. Our eyes lock. “I accept you, Kurt. Tears and painful past, sadness and shy love. All of it.”
His eyes fill with moisture, but he cries no more. “I wish to give it all to you, but it takes time.”
Mauthausen, Austria1945
“T
HE
Allies are close,” Peter said.
I ran my finger over the little nub of his nipple as he spoke. “What does that mean?”
His arm was around my shoulders as we lay together on the small davenport. Peter brushed my forehead with the tips of his fingers, and I attempted to press closer to him. “There may be a time soon when we’re apart, but we can be together again.”
“France? What are you thinking? I’ll find no home there. I’ve heard others talking about South America.” He shifted so our bare chests were pressed together. “Meet me in Brazil. I’ll send my wife and children away. We can finally be together.”
My reality quaked as I drew my brow together. Through narrow eyes, I studied my lover, trying to understand what he’d just said. The plan had always been to go to France, but if Peter wanted to go to Brazil, I would go to Brazil. That wasn’t what bothered me. “You don’t have a wife or children. You are queer. Always have been.”
I was shoved from the sofa and landed on the floor hard. My bones ached most days anymore, but the contact with the floor forced me to suck in a shaky breath as pain rocked my whole being. But the throb of the fall was not as bad as the solid kick to my shoulder I received. I curled around the sting of that blow, showing my rounded back to my lover as he fumed in anger.
“What did I do?” I asked Peter through a sob, but when I risked a glance up, it wasn’t Peter who loomed over me, face filled with rage.
Another kick from my commandant, and the blood in my veins pounded. It was excruciating. I opened my body up for just a moment, and he seized the opportunity to jump on me. His legs curled around mine, and his hands grabbed my wrists. Lengthening himself, he stretched out my body. His face was horrifyingly close to mine.
I’m
queer?” He brought his head down hard.
I blacked out, but when I came to, my whole body smarted. I looked down and saw I was dressed, lying on the floor by the piano.
I was disoriented, but I had enough wits about me to comply. It was difficult to sit up, but I managed, then pulled my body up the piano bench to sit. I’d already played a Nazi song today, as well as accepted German composers, so I figured he would want something from Mahler or another deviant composition.
My fingers moved against the keys effortlessly. I closed my eyes when the commandant came up behind me and ran his hand over my head, down my shoulder, then my arm. “You mustn’t say things like that again.”
It took some time for me to remember and understand. I’d called him queer because I’d imagined him to be my Peter. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”
His breath hit my ear seconds before he took the lobe into his mouth. When he pulled back, he whispered, “I don’t enjoy making you suffer, but you need to learn—especially now.” He straightened himself up and walked to the window while I continued to play. “I don’t have much hope for the Reich. It is all but dead, and soon we will have orders.”
The commandant said nothing else. He simply sat down at his desk. I could feel his gaze hot upon my back. When it was time to end my day with him, he said, “Get out, Inmate.”
On our walk, Jules asked about my newly bruised face, but there was nothing worth telling him. So instead, I asked, “What does it mean that the Allies are close?”
