Exiles in America(9)

that it was not without complications.

“The painting disturbed her more than it did him,” said Zack.

“You think?” said Ross. “See, I found his reaction fishy. I can’t believe the

guy was as blasé as he pretended.”

Zack shrugged. “He’s an artist. He’s lived in Paris and Berlin. He’s proba-

bly seen it all.”

“So have I,” said Ross. “But first time I saw that picture, I freaked. I mean,

I’m not totally comfortable seeing a guy go down on me, especially a good

friend.”

“Just drop it,” said Daniel. “Please? I don’t care what either of them

thinks. Of me or my work or cocksucking or any of that. I don’t know why the

hell I showed them that damn painting.”

He could feel Zack looking at him, wondering what this was really about.

Well, they could talk about it later, maybe.

Then Ross asked Zack, “I know I have no business asking for a profes-

sional opinion. But didn’t they both seem just a little nuts?”

“They’re wound a bit tight,” Zack admitted. “But considering the lives

they’ve led, it’s a wonder they aren’t wound tighter. They have their own

gestalt, that’s for sure. But they seem to make it work.”

E x i l e s i n A m e r i c a

2 1

f 2

After Ross left, Daniel took Jocko for his walk, a quick trip around the block.

Williamsburg really was a ghost town after dark, the peace more unnerving

than soothing. The cicadas continued to buzz and chitter like a short circuit

in the night’s wiring.

When he returned, their tiger-striped tabby, Balthus, had come out of hid-

ing to waddle around the living room, fat and possessive, making sure noth-

ing had been stolen. Jocko sniffed the cat hello, then followed Daniel down

the hall to the bedrooms.

They found Zack in his room, already in bed, sitting against the headboard

in his yellow nightshirt, with a Penguin paperback in his lap, something else

Victorian.

“Hello, buddy,” said Zack when Jocko jumped up beside him. The dog

turned a few times, making a mental nest at the foot of the bed, and lay down.

Daniel remained in the door. “So. Have a good time tonight?”

“I did. I always enjoy seeing Ross. And I like meeting new people. Even if

they’re strange.” Zack was watching Daniel.

“They are strange, aren’t they?”

“But interesting. Different.” Zack closed his book, signaling that they

should talk. “I hope they’re not too unhappy being stuck in Williamsburg for

a year.”

“We don’t have to worry about him,” said Daniel. “He’s the kind of cocky

young artist who doesn’t need anybody or anything.”

“So what did you want from him?”

“Nothing. What’s to want?”

“Did you ask them over tonight because you’re interested in him as a

painter?” said Zack. “Or in him as something else?”

Daniel frowned. “What do you mean?”

Zack broke into a smile. “What do you mean, what do I mean?”

And Daniel laughed. It was a nuisance to have a boyfriend who could read

you so quickly, who knew there was no such thing as a meaningless impulse.

There is much in life one prefers to leave unexamined, but Zack saved them

countless hours that would otherwise have been lost in silences or secrets.

2 2

C h r i s t o p h e r B r a m

Daniel came into the room and sat on the bed. “Handsome, exotic, thirty-

something guy? Yeah, I found him attractive. Despite his being married. And

the two kids. Although I forgot about the kids.” He scratched Jocko behind

the ears: the dog opened his mouth and grinned. “But you can be attracted to

someone without wanting to go to bed with them. He’s interesting. He’s a new

face. I like his paintings. Or I did. But he’s just another snotty frog.”

“A snotty Muslim frog,” said Zack. “A sexy snotty Muslim frog.”

“You think he’s sexy?”

“Sure.”

“Then why don’t you pursue him?”

“Because I’m lazy. And he’s straight. And I don’t care about that stuff any-

more.” He lightly touched Daniel’s hand.

Daniel touched back, brushing a thumb with a finger. “I don’t know what

I wanted. If it were just sex, it’d be simple. ‘Wanna mess around? No? Okay.

Bye.’ But I wanted a friend. A peer. Maybe I just wanted him to like my work

as much as I like his. Which is stupid.”

“Not stupid,” said Zack. “It’s what we all want. Respect from people we

respect.”