Turning Idolator - Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Bright Darkness

The sun was bright on the green and yellow tiles of the Pink Swallow Inn at Provincetown. The salty Nantucket breezes blew across the waters to the sugary sands of Cap Cod and the shallows of Provincetown Bay. From the high Pilgrim's tower, the gulls perched and viewed the queer crew that decorated the town for summer after summer. The osprey called to the tides and the great sea mammals that graced the coves and out-water.

Commercial Street was teaming with tourists, all shopping, and bargaining and crisping their skins. Men with Men and Womyn with Womyn laughed, kissed, canoddled, hugged, held hands and paraded, knowing that in this gayest of resorts, appearances were to be kept, not only for the straight tourists, but for the jealousy levels of boyfriends and girlfriends alike. The investment of P'Town was to shop by daylight, dance by moonlight and not be in bed alone at the end of it all. Where decorum and good taste reigned at most seaside resorts, P'Town thrived in freedom and infallible tastes, with its own rules and constitution, continuing the time honored traditions of the high seas and New England sailing ports.

Tom Dye and Philip Haxie were among the summer trade here. The course of true love was still raging, but in the fair sense of the word, their course was running thin at times. Phil's youthful taste in older men shifted at times for the sake of variety; while, Tom's open-mindedness, narrowed itself at times to accommodate a lasting tribute to his own generation. One fact remained constant. They were encumbered by the past - the past being Flo Cooper and Sprakie. Tom and Flo had come to P'Town's shores every year since they could remember. Sprakie had never been there. So, when the plans were formulated, despite Flo's dislike of Phil and Sprakie's hesitancy about Tom, the four caravaned it to this great Gay haven on the Massachusetts coast.

Cordiality reigned for a day; but soon there were signs of stress. Tom wanted to see a new play. Sprakie wanted his body painted. Phil wanted to climb the pilgrim's tower. Flo wanted to sit on the porch. They all managed to do nothing of these, but strut down Commercial Street from morn to dawn, each voicing their own regret. Tom and Phil did manage to carve out a moment alone to go whale watching; however, Phil got so sea-sick he was out of commission for two days. This left Tom and Flo to party on their own; and Sprakie to trawl for night-tricks in front of the Spiritus, a pizza parlor-pickup point for the after midnight crowd.

After Phil recovered, he tried to make up for lost time. This was to drink and dance at the Boatslip. The Boatslip had the one mandatory activity of the day for all self-respecting gay men - the T-Dance. Here, the cruising and comradery were at their peak. Here men met, danced, dined, drank and went off to get to know each other better. It was loud and brash - perfect in the bright sun. Tom had referred to it as the Bright Darkness or the Dark Brightness, in one of the poems he managed to pen in the mornings. Provincetown usually was a productive and creative time for him. Flo thought it was less so this year, blaming Tom's "preoccupation with the Twink" as probable cause. But at the T-dance, one forgot such things. You just leaned back and drank in sights of shapely bodies. You breathed in the sweet aroma of men.

Of course, the T-dance was the source of friction between committed lovers. Not infrequently, a couple was tested when one saw something they liked and really could not afford to have. That was why there was friction this day between Phil and Tom. There was a particularly handsome, well-toned, bronze and sweaty wonder-man, naked from the top up and wearing a tight, reveling pair of green shorts which caught Phil's eye. This would be no crime, except the eye catching was mutual in the gay mannered sort of way. Phil began the preliminary protocols all gay men learn throughout the generations to further the interest - the mating call of queers in heat. Unfortunately for Phil, Tom was watching this little play from a secure railing on the boardwalk. When Tom made himself known and his feelings expressed, there began what was common by mid afternoon at the T-dance; a situation known as the "lover's huff." Tom stormed off to the hotel with Flo in tow and Phil in pursuit. Sprakie tagged behind not wanting to miss the fireworks.

Tom and Phil's hotel room was small, but bright. There was a balcony overlooking the quiet bay. Its tranquillity was shattered by its occupants return.

"I really don't know what the fuck’s the matter with you?" shouted Phil.

"You don't!" said Tom. "You were trying to pick that guy up!"

"What guy?" said Phil. "I think you're dreaming these things up just to drive me crazy!"

Sprakie knocked on the door and entered unannounced.

"Lover’s quarrel?"

"Shut up Sprakie," said Tom.

"Jesus Marie, that's all you ever say to me."

"Can't take a hint?" said Tom.

"Leave him alone!" said Phil.

By this time, Flo was also in the small room - quit a crowd for such a space.

"Tee," said Phil, a bit more composed and far gentler, "I don't know what's happened to you. So I looked at someone else! I used to have the world looking at me, until you made me quit manluv.com."

"I didn't make you quit."

"Shit you didn't!" said Sprakie.

"Shut up Sprakie," snapped Phil.

"Tee, what's the matter?" chimed in Flo.

"Ask her?" he said pointing to Phil.

"Hey Flo," said Phil, "I don't need your two-cents worth!"

"Miss Flirt here," said Tom, "tried to pick up that guy in green shorts at the T-Dance, didn't you see? Don't you have eyes?"

"Did I even talk to him?" asked Phil.

"Speak not talk!" said Tom.

"Stop correcting my grammar, you asshole."

"You didn't speak with him! You're too expert at that. Those eyes."

"You love my eyes."

"I love your eyes - but they're talented!"

"Phil," said Flo, "you should learn to keep them in their sockets."

Sprakie pulled Flo aside.

"Listen, creepyman," he said, "you better stay out of this one, if you have any sense. With luck this'll be the one that ends it all."

"You think?" said Flo.

Sprakie pulled Flo out of the room, while Tom slammed the door shut.

"Listen Tee," said Phil. "I'm not used to anyone trying to totally smother me. I don't belong to anyone."

"No, that would be slavery - and they fought a war over that and ended it."

"Believe me," said Phil, "that war ended nothing! I know that there are all kinds of slavery. I mean, you lose your freedom so easily - and that's not a good thing, is it?"

"But Phil," said Tom, "you can't deny you were trying to pick up Green-Shorts Guy."

"He's cute - and sexy -and hot. I like variety. "

"You're tired of me then?" said Tom. "You say I'm sexy and hot."

"You are - and much more," said Phil. "But, I can't just stay in one place forever. And you have always told me you liked my honesty - and now you're not being honest."

Tom calmed down a bit. He sat beside Phil at the bed's edge.

"So, you are saying we need to rethink our relationship?" he asked.

"There's nothing to rethink!"

"Nothing!"

"I didn't mean it that way," said Phil.

"Well, in what way did you mean it! You know, sometimes we say what we mean before we mean to not say it! Freud's pet peeve!"

"Well, there are things I am missing here!" said Phil.

"Like?"

"Like, my old job!"

"Hustling!"

"It wasn't hustling!" said Phil.

"Now who's being dishonest?" said Tom. "Listen, if you want to show your dick to the world on-line and pick up a few tricks and a bit of money, be my guest. But, I just can't get those pictures out of my head when we're together."

"So it's THE question!" said Phil. "I must be a lady of leisure and lie back and take what you give me - and never stir with another living soul!"

"I can't take much more of this," said Tom.

Tom got up and paced around the room. He stirred the papers on his desk with agitation.

"You know, just because your father kicked you out and hasn't talked to you in 5 years," said Tom, "doesn't mean I have to be your father now!"

Phil was furious. His eyes opened wide and his lips puckered in a spit.

"You fucker!" he said. "How can you say that to me! I don't love you as my father! My father is a mean bastard. Maybe you're a mean bastard too!"

"Let's be honest," said Tom. "This old man keeps you in the style you're accustomed! And all he asks is a bit of faithfulness."

This loud commotion brought Sprakie and Flo back into the room in case a referee was needed.

"I think the air in hear stinks!" said Phil, looking directly at Flo. "I've come to P'Town to get laid - a proper lay - and laid I'm gonna get."

Phil stormed out into the sunlight.

"Wow!" said Sprakie. "Miss Phil is really in a hissy fit today. I think Green Shorts Guy is gonna get lucky."

"Fuck you, Robert Sprague!" said Tom.

"Not in your lifetime, Methusallah!" said Sprakie following after Phil.

Tom clenched his fists and stirred the papers again. He then sat on the edge of the bed burying his face in his hands. Quietly, and carefully, Flo sat beside him giving him a loving glance, then sighed.

"You know, Tee," said Flo, "I can see the attraction, but is it worth it? We've been through all this stuff in our lives - and it should be behind us. We should have some peace and quiet. Yet, you've managed to tap into Twinkie Central."

"Maybe you're right," said Tom through a nervous laugh. "It's a different generation. I thought I was being open and honest. But, really, I want his morals to match his looks."

"That's rich," said Flo. "Most of the world regards homosexuals as immoral - and you expect morality within our immorality."

"So, it's philosophy time, Mr. Cooper." said Tom. "I'm not sure we're speaking about deep issues here."

"We're not! You're 48 - he's 20."

"He'll be 21 next week."

"Big fucking deal," said Flo. "What does that do, make him the Christ child? I mean, he may be a sweetheart and all, but he's got a different set of rules he follows. Rules, I'm afraid he's picked up from that obnoxious queenie friend of his."

"Sprakie is obnoxious - but he does have his moments."

"Well" said Flo, "Phil and you just don't go together. I look at you and see a mature, good-looking literary man with Arial."

"Arial? On the shoals or not? And remember, Arial was with Prospero."

"But not in the same sense," said Flo. "And you are no magician. You can't command here. When we were together . . . "

Tom gave Flo a sour look and raised his eyebrows.

"What?" asked Flo.

"Are we going to start that again?"

"Well, think about it. We've been coming to P'Town together for how many years? And have we ever quarreled like this?"

"No," said Tom, "but we haven't fucked each other in 25 years!"

"But we always get something here in P'Town - with no anxiety and no strings; and we thought nothing of it. Now, I really think you need to rethink this relationship."

"Which one?" said Tom sarcastically.

"You and the Twink! I'm you're best friend and can say these things to you. We have a history and that gives me the right. Besides, I think Sprakie's got a thing for Phil."

"Sprakie!" said Tom. "Maybe he does - but Phil doesn't."

"How do you know that? He's said so? Big deal. Well . . ."

Tom got up from the bed abruptly and headed for the door.

"Where are going?" asked Flo.

"I need some air."

"I'll go with you."

"No," said Tom, "I need some fresh air."

Tom left; and Flo was anxious. Bitter resentment crept into his belly; and he was twisted and tormented.

"If he could only be civil to me," he thought, "that would be a thing. He can't even write since that little prostitute came into his life. Shit. Look at that mess."

Flo began to straighten the papers on the desk, occasionally glancing at their content like an intruder in some sanctuary.

"Well, at least he's writing here," he said to the four wall. "P'Town has always been a little more inspiring to him. What's this? Some new poetry."

Flo read a few lines of one poem, then another - but on the third, he stopped and went to the balcony as if to become Cicero on the Forum's steps."

"For my dearest Phil -

I gently draw the blinds
And the sun plays on the bed where my lover still sleeps;
The light fans his naked chest,
His wondrous thighs,
And I am lost to thinking.

"How have we come so far?
Despite a world of hate and fear,
We managed to share our kingdoms,
With a good deal of struggle
As kingdoms will fight for their sovereignty to the end.

"But now, in the morning breeze,
He turns his ass in the sunlight
And no matter the struggle,
No matter the siege
He has my heart and my kingdom's soul,
And I return to that ass in the sunlight."

Flo was choked with tears, tears of regret and anger. He returned to the desk and sat with a thud.

"That fucker doesn't deserve his love," he thought. "That little bitch doesn't have any idea how hard Tee has fallen for him - and Tee's love is pure fantasy."

Tom picked up a pen and wrote on the poem in clear printed letters:

"BULLSHIT"

"BULLSHIT! BULLSHIT! BULLSHIT!" he said throwing the poem back in the stack.

He then crawled to the bed and cried himself to sleep under the green and yellow tiles of the Pink Swallow Inn and the rays of the sun's bright darkness.

Next Chapter

Turning Idolator

		Chapter Four: Bright Darkness The sun was bright on the green and yellow tiles of the Pink Swallow Inn at Provincetown. The salty Nantucket breezes blew across the waters to the sugary sands of Cap Cod and the shallows of Provincetown Bay. From the high Pilgrim's tower, the gulls perched and viewed the queer crew that decorated the town for summer after summer. The osprey called to the tides and the great sea mammals that graced the coves and out-water. Commercial Street was teaming with tourists, all shopping, and bargaining and crisping their skins. Men with Men and Womyn with Womyn laughed, kissed, canoddled, hugged, held hands and paraded, knowing that in this gayest of resorts, appearances were to be kept, not only for the straight tourists, but for the jealousy levels of boyfriends and girlfriends alike. The investment of P'Town was to shop by daylight, dance by moonlight and not be in bed alone at the end of it all. Where decorum and good taste reigned at most seaside resorts, P'Town thrived in freedom and infallible tastes, with its own rules and constitution, continuing the time honored traditions of the high seas and New England sailing ports. Tom Dye and Philip Haxie were among the summer trade here. The course of true love was still raging, but in the fair sense of the word, their course was running thin at times. Phil's youthful taste in older men shifted at times for the sake of variety; while, Tom's open-mindedness, narrowed itself at times to accommodate a lasting tribute to his own generation. One fact remained constant. They were encumbered by the past - the past being Flo Cooper and Sprakie. Tom and Flo had come to P'Town's shores every year since they could remember. Sprakie had never been there. So, when the plans were formulated, despite Flo's dislike of Phil and Sprakie's hesitancy about Tom, the four caravaned it to this great Gay haven on the Massachusetts coast. Cordiality reigned for a day; but soon there were signs of stress. Tom wanted to see a new play. Sprakie wanted his body painted. Phil wanted to climb the pilgrim's tower. Flo wanted to sit on the porch. They all managed to do nothing of these, but strut down Commercial Street from morn to dawn, each voicing their own regret. Tom and Phil did manage to carve out a moment alone to go whale watching; however, Phil got so sea-sick he was out of commission for two days. This left Tom and Flo to party on their own; and Sprakie to trawl for night-tricks in front of the Spiritus, a pizza parlor-pickup point for the after midnight crowd. After Phil recovered, he tried to make up for lost time. This was to drink and dance at the Boatslip. The Boatslip had the one mandatory activity of the day for all self-respecting gay men - the T-Dance. Here, the cruising and comradery were at their peak. Here men met, danced, dined, drank and went off to get to know each other better. It was loud and brash - perfect in the bright sun. Tom had referred to it as the Bright Darkness or the Dark Brightness, in one of the poems he managed to pen in the mornings. Provincetown usually was a productive and creative time for him. Flo thought it was less so this year, blaming Tom's "preoccupation with the Twink" as probable cause. But at the T-dance, one forgot such things. You just leaned back and drank in sights of shapely bodies. You breathed in the sweet aroma of men. Of course, the T-dance was the source of friction between committed lovers. Not infrequently, a couple was tested when one saw something they liked and really could not afford to have. That was why there was friction this day between Phil and Tom. There was a particularly handsome, well-toned, bronze and sweaty wonder-man, naked from the top up and wearing a tight, reveling pair of green shorts which caught Phil's eye. This would be no crime, except the eye catching was mutual in the gay mannered sort of way. Phil began the preliminary protocols all gay men learn throughout the generations to further the interest - the mating call of queers in heat. Unfortunately for Phil, Tom was watching this little play from a secure railing on the boardwalk. When Tom made himself known and his feelings expressed, there began what was common by mid afternoon at the T-dance; a situation known as the "lover's huff." Tom stormed off to the hotel with Flo in tow and Phil in pursuit. Sprakie tagged behind not wanting to miss the fireworks. Tom and Phil's hotel room was small, but bright. There was a balcony overlooking the quiet bay. Its tranquillity was shattered by its occupants return. "I really don't know what the fuck’s the matter with you?" shouted Phil. "You don't!" said Tom. "You were trying to pick that guy up!" "What guy?" said Phil. "I think you're dreaming these things up just to drive me crazy!" Sprakie knocked on the door and entered unannounced. "Lover’s quarrel?" "Shut up Sprakie," said Tom. "Jesus Marie, that's all you ever say to me." "Can't take a hint?" said Tom. "Leave him alone!" said Phil. By this time, Flo was also in the small room - quit a crowd for such a space. "Tee," said Phil, a bit more composed and far gentler, "I don't know what's happened to you. So I looked at someone else! I used to have the world looking at me, until you made me quit manluv.com." "I didn't make you quit." "Shit you didn't!" said Sprakie. "Shut up Sprakie," snapped Phil. "Tee, what's the matter?" chimed in Flo. "Ask her?" he said pointing to Phil. "Hey Flo," said Phil, "I don't need your two-cents worth!" "Miss Flirt here," said Tom, "tried to pick up that guy in green shorts at the T-Dance, didn't you see? Don't you have eyes?" "Did I even talk to him?" asked Phil. "Speak not talk!" said Tom. "Stop correcting my grammar, you asshole." "You didn't speak with him! You're too expert at that. Those eyes." "You love my eyes." "I love your eyes - but they're talented!" "Phil," said Flo, "you should learn to keep them in their sockets." Sprakie pulled Flo aside. "Listen, creepyman," he said, "you better stay out of this one, if you have any sense. With luck this'll be the one that ends it all." "You think?" said Flo. Sprakie pulled Flo out of the room, while Tom slammed the door shut. "Listen Tee," said Phil. "I'm not used to anyone trying to totally smother me. I don't belong to anyone." "No, that would be slavery - and they fought a war over that and ended it." "Believe me," said Phil, "that war ended nothing! I know that there are all kinds of slavery. I mean, you lose your freedom so easily - and that's not a good thing, is it?" "But Phil," said Tom, "you can't deny you were trying to pick up Green-Shorts Guy." "He's cute - and sexy -and hot. I like variety. " "You're tired of me then?" said Tom. "You say I'm sexy and hot." "You are - and much more," said Phil. "But, I can't just stay in one place forever. And you have always told me you liked my honesty - and now you're not being honest." Tom calmed down a bit. He sat beside Phil at the bed's edge. "So, you are saying we need to rethink our relationship?" he asked. "There's nothing to rethink!" "Nothing!" "I didn't mean it that way," said Phil. "Well, in what way did you mean it! You know, sometimes we say what we mean before we mean to not say it! Freud's pet peeve!" "Well, there are things I am missing here!" said Phil. "Like?" "Like, my old job!" "Hustling!" "It wasn't hustling!" said Phil. "Now who's being dishonest?" said Tom. "Listen, if you want to show your dick to the world on-line and pick up a few tricks and a bit of money, be my guest. But, I just can't get those pictures out of my head when we're together." "So it's THE question!" said Phil. "I must be a lady of leisure and lie back and take what you give me - and never stir with another living soul!" "I can't take much more of this," said Tom. Tom got up and paced around the room. He stirred the papers on his desk with agitation. "You know, just because your father kicked you out and hasn't talked to you in 5 years," said Tom, "doesn't mean I have to be your father now!" Phil was furious. His eyes opened wide and his lips puckered in a spit. "You fucker!" he said. "How can you say that to me! I don't love you as my father! My father is a mean bastard. Maybe you're a mean bastard too!" "Let's be honest," said Tom. "This old man keeps you in the style you're accustomed! And all he asks is a bit of faithfulness." This loud commotion brought Sprakie and Flo back into the room in case a referee was needed. "I think the air in hear stinks!" said Phil, looking directly at Flo. "I've come to P'Town to get laid - a proper lay - and laid I'm gonna get." Phil stormed out into the sunlight. "Wow!" said Sprakie. "Miss Phil is really in a hissy fit today. I think Green Shorts Guy is gonna get lucky." "Fuck you, Robert Sprague!" said Tom. "Not in your lifetime, Methusallah!" said Sprakie following after Phil. Tom clenched his fists and stirred the papers again. He then sat on the edge of the bed burying his face in his hands. Quietly, and carefully, Flo sat beside him giving him a loving glance, then sighed. "You know, Tee," said Flo, "I can see the attraction, but is it worth it? We've been through all this stuff in our lives - and it should be behind us. We should have some peace and quiet. Yet, you've managed to tap into Twinkie Central." "Maybe you're right," said Tom through a nervous laugh. "It's a different generation. I thought I was being open and honest. But, really, I want his morals to match his looks." "That's rich," said Flo. "Most of the world regards homosexuals as immoral - and you expect morality within our immorality." "So, it's philosophy time, Mr. Cooper." said Tom. "I'm not sure we're speaking about deep issues here." "We're not! You're 48 - he's 20." "He'll be 21 next week." "Big fucking deal," said Flo. "What does that do, make him the Christ child? I mean, he may be a sweetheart and all, but he's got a different set of rules he follows. Rules, I'm afraid he's picked up from that obnoxious queenie friend of his." "Sprakie is obnoxious - but he does have his moments." "Well" said Flo, "Phil and you just don't go together. I look at you and see a mature, good-looking literary man with Arial." "Arial? On the shoals or not? And remember, Arial was with Prospero." "But not in the same sense," said Flo. "And you are no magician. You can't command here. When we were together . . . " Tom gave Flo a sour look and raised his eyebrows. "What?" asked Flo. "Are we going to start that again?" "Well, think about it. We've been coming to P'Town together for how many years? And have we ever quarreled like this?" "No," said Tom, "but we haven't fucked each other in 25 years!" "But we always get something here in P'Town - with no anxiety and no strings; and we thought nothing of it. Now, I really think you need to rethink this relationship." "Which one?" said Tom sarcastically. "You and the Twink! I'm you're best friend and can say these things to you. We have a history and that gives me the right. Besides, I think Sprakie's got a thing for Phil." "Sprakie!" said Tom. "Maybe he does - but Phil doesn't." "How do you know that? He's said so? Big deal. Well . . ." Tom got up from the bed abruptly and headed for the door. "Where are going?" asked Flo. "I need some air." "I'll go with you." "No," said Tom, "I need some fresh air." Tom left; and Flo was anxious. Bitter resentment crept into his belly; and he was twisted and tormented. "If he could only be civil to me," he thought, "that would be a thing. He can't even write since that little prostitute came into his life. Shit. Look at that mess." Flo began to straighten the papers on the desk, occasionally glancing at their content like an intruder in some sanctuary. "Well, at least he's writing here," he said to the four wall. "P'Town has always been a little more inspiring to him. What's this? Some new poetry." Flo read a few lines of one poem, then another - but on the third, he stopped and went to the balcony as if to become Cicero on the Forum's steps." "For my dearest Phil - I gently draw the blinds And the sun plays on the bed where my lover still sleeps; The light fans his naked chest, His wondrous thighs, And I am lost to thinking. "How have we come so far? Despite a world of hate and fear, We managed to share our kingdoms, With a good deal of struggle As kingdoms will fight for their sovereignty to the end. "But now, in the morning breeze, He turns his ass in the sunlight And no matter the struggle, No matter the siege He has my heart and my kingdom's soul, And I return to that ass in the sunlight." Flo was choked with tears, tears of regret and anger. He returned to the desk and sat with a thud. "That fucker doesn't deserve his love," he thought. "That little bitch doesn't have any idea how hard Tee has fallen for him - and Tee's love is pure fantasy." Tom picked up a pen and wrote on the poem in clear printed letters: "BULLSHIT" "BULLSHIT! BULLSHIT! BULLSHIT!" he said throwing the poem back in the stack. He then crawled to the bed and cried himself to sleep under the green and yellow tiles of the Pink Swallow Inn and the rays of the sun's bright darkness. Next Chapter