Michael's Secrets (18 page)

“It was ringing, what the hell do you want me to do?” Rona said.

“Wait. Let it ring, dammit. You don’t give me a chance to pick it up,” Doreen yelled to Rona.

“What if it is an emergency, or one of my kids?” Rona yelled to Doreen, while Michael listened.

“What if it is one of my kids? This is my goddamn phone! I’ll answer it,” Doreen yelled back.

“Vaysmir, Doreen, pick up your fucking phone from now on, I’ll just sit here while it rings and rings. And, don’t get pissed when one of your boyfriends hangs up waiting for you to get up off your fat ass to answer it!” Rona yelled.

“I’m surprised you could hear it with your head in the refrigerator all the time,” Doreen yelled.

“Girls, girls, quit yelling at each other,” Michael yelled into the phone.

“Who’s yelling?” they asked in unison.

“This is yelling, Rona? He thinks we’re yelling. Were we yelling?” Doreen asked.

“I wasn’t yelling. Why would he think we were yelling?” Rona asked.

“Girls, I’m still here,” Michael said.

“Talk, what’s new, Michael?” Doreen asked.

“Yes, Michael, how are you?” Rona asked.

Pausing to be sure they were done, he finally said, “Guess where I was today?”

“Where?” they both said.

“Seymour Sagman’s funeral,” he said with no inflection in his voice.

“Seymour who?” Rona asked.

“Sagman, Sagman,” Doreen mumbled then exclaimed, “Oh my God!”

“What?” Rona asked. “What, Doreen?”

By now, Michael had stepped outside to have a cigarette as they continued talking around him.

“Rona, Seymour Sagman used to work with Adam Bern, Michael’s father,” Doreen said. “Remember the tall guy who had a thing for Hannah?”

“Wait a minute, Doreen; he could not possibly be alive; he would have to be at least …” Rona began.

“He was ninety-six,” Michael said. “He died two days ago,”

“So, why were you at his funeral?” Doreen asked.

“My brother asked me to go,” Michael said, again with no inflection.

“What?” they both asked simultaneously.

“My brother. Did you two know I have a half brother named Eric Sagman?” Michael asked.

“Michael, what the hell are you talking about?” Doreen asked.

“Oh my God,” Rona said. “Doreen, do you remember what Seymour Sagman looked like? He was tall with black hair and green eyes.”

“Oh … my … God and with a big booming voice … like Michael’s,” Doreen said slowly.

“Oh you think that is a coincidence?” Michael said. “My half brother was born two weeks after I was. His mother is Harryette Sagman. Apparently, Seymour knocked up my mother and his mother at the same time. But wait, that is not the best part. You should see Eric. He looks exactly like me.” There was silence. “Aunt Rona, Aunt Doreen, are you two still there? Did I shock you?”

“No, no, Michael,” Rona said as if pondering what he just told them. “You confirmed something. We always suspected your mother was fooling around with Seymour Sagman …”

“And, you never looked like your father,” Doreen interrupted. “This explains so much. Oh, your mother was good at keeping her secrets.”

“So, Harryette, Harryette?” Rona asked as if she were talking to herself.

“Rona, she was Harryette Erlach. Remember, kinda plain looking with red hair. She was a saleswoman at Feld’s Department Store,” Doreen said.

“She worked for Aunt Arlene and Uncle William?” Michael asked.

“Oh, yes,” Rona said. “I remember her. She was such a nice girl, a little quiet, but very nice.”

“Apparently not so nice,” Michael said. “She got knocked up and had to get married.”

“Michael, do you know how many girls gave birth six months after their weddings back then?” Doreen asked.

“Your generation didn’t invent sex,” Rona said.

“Well, I guess that wasn’t fair of me to say,” Michael said apologetically.

“Don’t worry about it, Michael,” Doreen said. “I was just surprised that such a quiet little mouse like Harryette would get in trouble.”

“So, what is she like now?” Rona asked.

“Very nice,” Michael said. “She is a very nice person, and Eric is a great guy, too. But, I haven’t told you the best part.”

“There’s more?” Doreen asked.

“Tell us, tell us,” Rona the yenta demanded.

Michael took a deep breath, and then he told them, “My mother was married to Seymour Sagman in 1945 for six months. They had the marriage annulled, and he moved to Newport News with the hope of remarrying my mother. They apparently were having an affair for some time.”

“Oh my God,” they both said in unison.

“How is that for a bombshell?” Michael asked.

“Michael, you should write a novel about all this,” Doreen said.

“Or at least a movie,” Rona chimed in.

“Nah, no one would believe it,” Michael told them.

Chapter Eight

Michael reluctantly decided to stay in D.C. until he and Sharon completed the final draft of
Romancing the Capitol.
He hated the title, but it was Sharon’s baby, so he kept his mouth shut
.
As he was sitting at his desk working on a re-write one late January morning, his cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID, and it was Steve.
Should I answer it? Should I let it go to voice mail?
Against his better judgment, Michael answered it.

“Michael, how are you?”

“Well look who’s using the telephone,” Michael said sarcastically.

“You know I hate answering the telephone,” Steve said, not bothered in the least by Michael’s remark.

“How have you been, Steve?” he asked.

“I’m getting ready to have liposuction. I’m so excited.”

Michael leaned back in the chair as he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What the hell is wrong with you? You don’t need liposuction. You have a perfect body. If I looked like you, I would do everything naked – sleep naked, work naked, drive naked. Are you nuts?” he said to Steve.

“Michael, this is something I have wanted and needed for a long time; support me on this,” he responded as if pleading for his approval.

“Where are you having it done?” Michael asked.

“In Virginia Beach with the same doctor Tom used. He’s taking me,” he answered, confirming that he and Tom were still together.

“So, you two are still together?” Michael asked anyway, convinced he knew the answer.

“Well, no we are just friends now. We decided that was best,” Steve said in attempt to assuage Michael’s fears.

Do I really want to get involved in this again? Should I just say good luck and hang up?
“Steve, I hope this doctor is good,” Michael said, truly concerned as he knew what a major procedure liposuction was.

“Oh, he’s the best. He said I’m a perfect candidate,” Steve answered with excitement in his voice.

“Steve, I work in Hollywood, and I can tell you that every plastic surgeon says that. You could ask for a sex change, and you’d hear that,” he told him.

“Don’t be silly,” he said, a little annoyed.

“Well, I hope you thought this through. That’s a dangerous operation.”

“Hey, you want to come with us. I know you have family down there,” Steve said, the excitement returning to his voice.

Michael could not believe Steve remembered he was from that area? “Actually, I
had
family in Newport News, but there’s no one left there now, and I was just there a few weeks ago to visit some old friends. To tell you the truth, driving down with you and your ex doesn’t sound appealing to me. Where would I fit in the picture?”

“I understand. Hey will you come over and jack off for me when I’m recuperating?” he asked, as if Michael would consider that.

“Oh sure. Call me, I will be right over, wearing a gold lame thong and a sports bra,” Michael said in dead pan. “Listen Steve, I’m on a deadline, and I have to go. Good luck with your surgery although I think you’re wasting your money,”

“Don’t be like that,” Steve said as if Michael were being snotty.

“No, I think you don’t need it, but if this is something you want, I can’t stop you. Seriously, I hope you checked this doctor out. I have to go, goodbye.” Michael said as he hung up before Steve could say goodbye.

Talking to him was all right, but Michael knew he couldn’t see him because if he did, he would lose control and fall back into a pattern he wanted to avoid. Michael got up from the desk and walked into the kitchen, first reaching for the pack of cigarettes on top of the refrigerator, but changing his mind, he poured himself a glass of water and leaned against the counter.

“Why would a grown man with a perfect body go through that kind of procedure?” he said to himself. “Is appearance that important to him? Does he have issues with his self-esteem that need to be addressed professionally?”

Steve did go through with the liposuction and e-mailed Michael from the hotel where he and Tom stayed overnight in Virginia Beach. It turned out Steve was getting on Tom’s nerves, so Tom would go out to get away from him. He sent before and after pictures, and although still swollen, there was a difference, yet Michael still thought a strict diet would have achieved the same result.

They stayed in regular e-mail contact for the next few weeks, and at the end of February, Steve called Michael one Saturday afternoon out of the blue.

“Hey, buddy,” Steve said.

“Wow, you’re using the telephone, again,” Michael said, wishing he had let it go to voice mail.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked, ignoring Michael’s comment.

“I’m working,” he said as if he did anything else these days.

“Do you want to go shopping?”

Here we go again
, Michael thought, so he asked, “When?”

“Now!” Steve answered.

Should I drop everything and go shopping because Steve wants to go?
Against his better judgment, Michael said yes, jumped in the shower, put on his best jeans and a green turtleneck and made up his mind that they would not end up naked after their excursion. Steve arrived in about twenty minutes. He was wearing a sweat shirt and sweat pants, obviously straight from the gym, and Michael tried to keep his distance, but Steve managed to hug him anyway.

“How have you been, buddy?” Steve asked as he let Michael go.

“I’ve been good,” Michael answered. “You know, I must really like you, if I am willing to drop everything to go shopping on the spot.”

“Hey, I’m the same way,” Steve said. And, Michael wondered if the tables were turned, would Steve have gone with him.

Steve lifted up his shirt to show him his flat stomach, and Michael acted impressed. As much as he wanted to touch it, he resisted. He also remembered what Steve said about how he couldn’t separate sex from friendship.

“Where are we going?” Michael asked, changing the subject from his body to shopping.

“To Virginia,” Steve said as if they were going cross country.

They got into Steve’s truck and chatted about nothing of importance. At one point, Steve put his hand on Michael’s thigh, and he flinched. He really did not want Steve touching him, and Michael wished he were not in his truck at that moment. He knew he was headed for trouble.

“You don’t want me touching you?” Steve asked as he took his hand off Michael’s knee.

“No, that’s OK,” Michael said, not wanting to hurt Steve’s feelings and ignoring his own.

Michael really didn’t know what he wanted. What he wanted to know was why he hungered for even a few minutes’ time with this man. Why did he have such intense feelings for him when it was obvious a relationship with him would never work?

As they walked through the stores, Michael would pick up a shirt and look at it, and Steve would tell him he didn’t need it. Or, Michael would look at some other item, and Steve would say the same thing. Michael ended up buying Oil of Olay from Target and protein powder from the Vitamin Shoppe.
For this, I had to go to Virginia? Why didn’t I buy the shirt? It was just a black T-shirt, and no gay man can have enough black T-shirts. I am an award winning television and screenwriter, who makes a lot of money. I can shop anywhere. Can’t I make my own decisions? I could have bought anything in the store I wanted. I’ve shopped on Rodeo Drive for God’s sake!
Michael thought to himself as they walked back to the truck.

It was true Michael was like his Nana Mary in that he never bought anything frivolous, and he was excellent at saving money and not paying retail (even on Rodeo Drive), but he never bought
drek
either. The one time he wanted to by a $10 T-shirt, he let a man talk him out of it.

Michael asked as they drove up 14
th
Street on the way home, “So, is this where you live?”

Steve smiled and said nothing. For some reason he didn’t want Michael to know where he lived. When Steve turned onto Newton Street, he pulled up to the apartment and parked his truck in the first available space.

“What are you doing?” Michael asked, thinking he would just drop him off. “Why are you parking here?”

“I’m coming in for a while,” Steve said as if there was no argument and Michael had no choice.

Michael let him come in. He put away the exciting items he had purchased and offered Steve something to drink. Steve just wanted water, and he drank it in one gulp and handed Michael the glass to refill it, which he did. He walked into the living room and sat on the futon, and Steve went to sit on his lap sideways as he always did. Michael tried to stop him, but Steve insisted, and frankly, he didn’t resist that much. Michael knew he was losing control, but he did nothing about it.

“I missed you, big guy,” Steve said as he looked into Michael’s eyes, and Michael looked back into Steve’s sexy gray eyes.

“Listen, Steve, I really don’t want to fool around with somebody’s boyfriend anymore,” Michael said, trying to stop what he knew was going to happen.

“Oh, Tom and I are done. We’re through. I’m a single man now,” he said, trying to assure Michael.

Then Michael thought that is not enough because if he were to get involved, he would be the rebound guy and probably get dumped in six months. Steve then kissed him passionately, and Michael was totally under his control. The next thing Michael knew, they were getting undressed, and as they were climbing onto the bed, Steve told him to be careful as his midsection was still tender. Michael assured him he would be gentle, and he was as they mostly made out, sucked and jerked each other off.