The Good Life (20 page)

He looked around for Timmy and spotted him on the other side of the room. They were together. A warm glow of contentment seemed to suffuse his whole being. The world was a wonderful place.

“They'll probably have English music-hall entertainers,” Elsa said. “They're usually ghastly, but we won't stay long anyway.”

“I'm not going to be up late, not if I expect to stay awake for our bridge game tomorrow,” Billy said. “I've gone into my transatlantic hibernation.”

“Billy told you we're counting on you, Mr. Langham?”

“Yes. That's fine with me, but he told you I was a good player too. I don't know where he got that idea. You'll have to make the best of me. What are we going to drink?” He figured that since Billy was going to pay for it anyway, he might as well get the credit for offering.

A waiter arrived to take their order. They all turned down Perry's suggestion of champagne and had brandy instead. There were only a few couples on the dance floor, so he didn't feel that it was necessary to ask the ladies to dance. He'd look pretty silly pushing tubby Miss Maxwell around.

He took a peek at his watch when the brandy was served. Almost 10:30. He should be able to escape in time for his date with Timmy.

Elsa Maxwell talked, dropping names like rain from an umbrella. She was in charge of everything. Perry was impressed but restless. He noticed people glancing at her and enjoyed feeling like a member of an elite inner circle, but he wanted to be with Timmy.

As soon as Miss Maxwell picked up her purse and showed signs of being ready to go, Perry signaled to the waiter and signed for the drinks. They all told each other they were looking forward to the bridge game as they parted. Perry glanced across the room and saw that Timmy had left, and then he walked with Billy to his door.

“You have a date with your sweet blond?” Billy asked. “I'm sure you'll enjoy yourselves.” He looked serenely approving as he smiled a good night and let himself in.

Perry and Timmy didn't stay long in third class. Their eagerness for each other made everything else seem dull. Perry was discovering that in Timmy's case, at least, a refined background didn't change anything much. Desire was desire.

Perry was disarmed by the boy's passion. Timothy was incapable of judging him coldly. Even if Perry were to admit that Timmy's mother was right about him, Timmy would find excuses for him. He had won the boy's unquestioning devotion. Timmy gave himself over to his worship of coveted flesh with a long, moaning sigh. Perry's possession of him had just begun.

At dawn the two lovers made a date for 5:30 that afternoon, giving Perry time for the bridge game.

Perry drew Elsa as a partner, and they won fifteen dollars, which they shared. After every hand she told him all the things he'd done wrong or, when he was dummy, all the mistakes he'd made in bidding, but Perry didn't let it worry him. It seemed to him that winning was at least as important as doing everything right.

By the third day at sea, he felt as if it were going to go on forever. The sea stretched out vast and featureless around them. The world was a big place.

He put money in the ship's pool, betting on the mileage they covered every day. He didn't win, but it was the only way of knowing they were going anywhere, although he couldn't be sure that they weren't going around in circles.

There was a boat drill, with passengers lining up on deck with funny-looking life preservers around their necks. It was difficult to imagine a disaster at sea on this enormous, stable ship.

They played bridge again, and Perry and Miss Maxwell continued to win, to Billy's snappish annoyance. The four of them sat together for horse racing in the ballroom, and Billy won quite handsomely, which put him in a better humor.

Perry and Timmy managed to sit through a couple of movies together without taking each other's pants off. Countless blissful hours were spent in bed, where Timmy grew more abandonedly enslaved by Perry's body.

Perry sampled every expensive novelty on the menu, then started in again on his favorites. If this was eternity, it wasn't a disagreeable fate.

Unbelievably, it came to an end. A ship's concert was scheduled for the last night; Perry asked Billy if he would mind skipping it.

“You know more about shipboard romances than I do, Billy, but I don't want to be washed overboard by a flood of tears,” he explained. “Timothy will probably want to spend our last time alone together.”

“Of course, my dearest boy. You've handled the affair perfectly. I haven't felt for an instant that storms of passion were about to break over me. He's debarking at Cherbourg, isn't he? That'll give you time to dry off before we get to Southampton.”

Perry didn't want to joke about it. He was feeling a little tearful himself. Timmy remained remarkably cheerful until they were in bed together that afternoon. Then they both broke down and sobbed.

They didn't waste any of their last hours together on sleep. They were as insatiable as they claimed to be and ignored the hour.

The fading dark and the increased activity on deck told them that the time was approaching for Timmy to join his mother for debarkation. They were so dazed with sex and sleeplessness that they hardly felt the wrench of parting.

They dressed together, Perry for another day on board, and stood at the door, gripping each other's hands and feasting their mouths on each other once more.

When Perry let them out, it was like an ordinary interruption in their day's routine together. He ran his hand through Timmy's golden hair for the last time and gave him a little parting push toward his cabin. The excitement of arrival was beginning to crowd all other thoughts from Perry's befuddled brain.

When he stepped out on deck, he thought they were still surrounded by the limitless sea. Slowly, however, in the gray early morning light he began to make out dim shapes of land. His heart gave a leap. They had crossed the Atlantic. This was Europe. He was here!

He made a circuit of the deck, taking it all in, while the sky brightened rapidly. He missed Timmy's being there to share the thrill of it, but it was about time for him to get used to being on his own again.

A life in which Timmy would be a permanent feature had its appeal, but everything about the idea of settling down with a male lover was so far-fetched that he couldn't take it seriously. Missing Timmy might hurt for a few days, but Perry would get over it.

They were in quite close to land as the sun rose over it, smooth green hills and cliffs unlike any land he'd ever seen, indefinably foreign-looking. France. He would be back to really see it in a week. They were gliding toward a big port, very neat and tidy-looking compared to the sprawling industrial chaos of New York.

He saw passengers gathering to debark and avoided the area. He didn't want to subject either of them to the strain of seeing each other again in front of Mrs. Dillingham.

Officials conferred together, speaking French. He was amazed to hear people speaking a foreign language as if it were the natural thing to do and realized for the first time that he had left home. He was going to be a foreigner now.

He watched the great ship being tied up and the gangplank hauled into place. He saw a golden head swallowed up by the debarking crowd and wanted him back. He felt frighteningly alone as he listened to the babble of French around him and despaired of ever mastering the incomprehensible sounds.

When he saw preparations being made for departure, he went in and found Billy waiting in the sitting room with a drink for him. He was a comforting presence.

“We're here, Billy. I've been up since dawn getting us in and out of port safely. It's all so exciting.”

“You make it so, dearest boy. You must need that drink.”

“God yes. This one and another. I'm feeling slightly delicate.”

“Are you going to miss that sweet boy?”

“Yes.” He looked at Billy soberly, not wanting it to be turned into a joke. “I've always had things with guys, of course, but never anything like that. I guess I'm a little more queer than I thought, you'll be pleased to hear.”

“I'm delighted. There will be others. I have a tendency to forget how young you are. All your adult experience is just beginning. I'll be fascinated to watch you develop.” Billy drew a small sheaf of bank notes from his pocket and held it out. “Those are pounds. I thought you might need a little time to get used to them. That's enough for your cabin stewards. You can leave the envelopes for them. I'll take care of the men in the dining room for both of us if you wish. We'll be in soon after lunch. We should be in London by tea time, as the English insist on calling it. I loathe tea. It interferes with a civilized drink.”

“You might as well tell me we'll be on the moon by tea time, Billy. London. My God. When I was working as a travel agent, London was the place where I wanted to go most.”

Billy beamed happily.

Over his shoulder Perry saw that they were clear of the docks. In a moment three great blasts of the ship's horn marked their departure from France.

The steward interrupted them on the way up to the bar to ask if they wanted him to take charge of their packing. “Carry on, George,” Billy said blithely. “I can sort it all out in London. How about you, Perry?”

“Let me think. Yes, I can go ashore the way I am. Fine. Thanks.” Perry supposed he'd get used to this kind of service, but he still resisted it. It implied a loss of independence. If he forgot how to pack for himself, he wouldn't be able to pick up and go when he felt like it. He wanted to be able to tell Billy to fuck off before Billy told him to.

He felt a little ache of loss all through lunch, facing the empty table next to them. He wondered what Timmy was doing — probably having lunch on the train to Paris. He had grown so used to watching him eat that it seemed all wrong for them not to be together now. He had a lump in his throat thinking of Timmy's wanting to be with him, his wide blue eyes gazing at him with adoration. Love was a mistake. Perry had to learn how to call a halt if it ever threatened to get a grip on him again.

Preparing to resume life on land, he took charge as Billy's travel manager. He checked with George after lunch about how the luggage would be handled on arrival. “We'll see that it's waiting for you on the train, sir,” the steward assured him. “Your seats are booked. Ask the porter on the train to take care of you in London. That'll be Victoria Station, sir. They'll put you in a taxi for—” He glanced at the travel documents Perry had commandeered.

“The Connaught Hotel,” Perry said.

“Quite. It's just across the park from the station. You'll be there in no time. And may I wish you a very agreeable summer, sir.”

“Thank you, George. It's been a wonderful trip so far. I hope to see you again. I'll be coming back at the end of August.”

“Splendid. It'll be a pleasure, sir. We'll be looking forward to it.”

“I left an envelope there with your name on it.”

“You're very kind, sir.”

English manners were spoiling him for the rough-and-ready ways of the world. If dukes and lords were any grander than George, he'd be speechless in London. Without Timmy around he might begin to pay more attention to what was going on around him.

He saw more green hills and cliffs as they glided into Southampton. England looked softer than France, less formal but just as foreign. He collected their passports before debarking, and they were ready to go when the gangplank was in place. Perry was as excited as he'd ever been in his life when he felt his feet on the solid land of England. This was it. He was in Europe.

They strolled from the boat to the train as if they'd come from across the street instead of from the United States. Perry found their railroad car and gave Billy a boost aboard. It was an almost comic miniature of Victorian grandeur, all plush and cut glass. They were greeted by a steward or a porter or the king, for all he knew, and were shown to their seats, deep armchairs flanking an inlaid table. Their luggage was in racks above their heads. If this was all there was to travel, no wonder he'd been good as a travel agent. You just sat back and let everybody take care of you.

“I don't suppose everybody travels first,” he said to Billy. “What's the rest of it like?”

“Quite dreadful, but I've done it. I'd do it again if I wanted to go somewhere and couldn't afford anything else. Never let money considerations stand in the way of doing what you want to do. Money or anything else. Everybody disapproves of us. We must learn to take it in our stride.”

Perry felt one of the flashes of admiration that Billy was able to ignite in him. He was beginning to like him more than he'd thought possible. May be falling in love, even a little bit, had altered something in him. He felt more kindly toward the world, less ready to be the first to strike.

Once off, the train bustled them through beautiful country, soft and green, with masses of flowers everywhere. They crept through towns that gave the impression of dowdy elegance. Everything looked rooted and substantial, beyond being touched by anything ugly.

He thought of Oakland and couldn't believe it existed on the same planet. He had assumed that the States, as Timmy called it, was more advanced than anywhere else, more modern, with even the poor living better than ever before in the history of the world, while the other important countries struggled out of the Dark Ages, quaint and picturesque May be, but sort of primitive. England looked as if it might even be ahead of the States. He saw a castle perched high on a ridge and almost fell out of his chair.

“Billy, look,” he cried. “Look at that.” It was a real castle sitting on a wooded hill, complete with towers and turrets and surrounding walls like every castle he'd ever seen in pictures. “What is it?” he demanded.

Billy laughed. “It looks extraordinarily like a castle. Quite a new one, probably fifteenth-century. You may make me start to look at England again.”