Chapter 5
YEARS AFTERWARD, EDDIE WAS TO LOOK BACK and wonder why that whole deal with Elizabeth should have thrown him for such a loop. After all, she was right-he should have felt himself fortunate to get a million-dollar lay with no strings.
But at the time, things were seen in a different perspective. He thought he was in love with her. Of course, he had no genuine, solid plans about what he'd do to attach her to him-him with no money and damn poor prospects for the future. Everything was against anything permanent there-Elizabeth with her caviar tastes, the fact that she was older, more experienced, and such a jewel of a female form that men would compete for viciously for years yet, until the bloom wore off.
So it was that the fact he'd been used as her plaything and as an object just to bug her ex-husband, all this crushed young Eddie into a funk. Despondent to an extreme, he didn't really want to live. He stopped going to his job and he stopped going to classes. Finally he came out of the blues enough to believe that he might be helped if he changed his surroundings. He had made some friends at the school who lived near the University, and he moved in with one of them in a run-down student apartment house near the school.
For a job, he got work nights at a beat coffeehouse on the border of the campus. It didn't pay as well as his other restaurant job, and there was hardly any food to speak of, mostly just coffee, sweet rolls, donuts, cake and like that. But on the other hand, he didn't have to work as hard, either. The proprietor of the Blue Cow was twenty-five-year old Sam, who ran the place mostly for his own amusement. They didn't do a terrific business, and Eddie just helped-helped at anything and everything, from sweeping to waiting on customers to sitting down and talking to patrons who just wanted that.
Because of the horrible mental anguish Eddie had been undergoing, he really didn't observe his new place of employment for about two. weeks. And it might have been longer than that if he hadn't chanced to overhear some stranger talking about the Blue Cow. The man had snickered and termed the Blue Cow a "queer joint".
At first, this puzzled Eddie. There was little doubt that the man was using the word to mean the same as odd or peculiar. On the other hand, Eddie knew so little about homosexuals that he just didn't know what to make of a "queer joint". Hell, he had but only the vaguest idea of a homo when he was back home, and while he'd picked up some salacious hearsay while in the city,' mostly he heard little aside digs about their activities, and very little real information.
Now that the notion was planted in his noggin, however, it became evident as he looked back that the Blue Cow did have some fairly weird-appearing patrons. But then, the campus and its environs was full of weird people-the bearded beats; the longhaired girls with faces whiter than death; the folksingers who went everywhere with their guitars, even to the rest rooms; the protestors who were ready in a minute to parade banners against war or against a no-smoking ban in classrooms; the jolly "extra girls available for every party or outing who hadn't opened a book since they "left home to complete their educations".
But until then, Eddie had never noticed that most of the customers of the Blue Cow were male. Once in a while there had been a girl, but she appeared to be just a close friend of a couple of the guys-yet not romantically, Eddie realized now. And there had been girls with relatively normal-looking young men; these, Eddie sensed, were sort of slumming, they were sight-seeing in the queer joint-it was, for them, sort of a local version of some touristy perversion palace in Paris.
His new knowledge of his place of work didn't bother Eddie one bit. It probably would have some months before, but not now. In fact, it seemed fittingly ironic that he should land there-he who had been so ill-treated by a female. He wasn't, of course, ready to flip over womankind forever, but on the other hand he wasn't going to go right back and become involved again immediately with female flesh. This didn't mean he'd experiment with the denizens of the Blue Cow, but now he felt, in a way, safe in there-a haven from the lure of luscious, softfeminine busts and bottoms..
And he'd been there two weeks, and hadn't even had an inkling of what it was like, so he couldn't feel that just being a flunky at the Blue Cow was going to debase or seduce him.
There was nothing terribly shocking ever happening in the coffee house. Later, Eddie realized that this was because no liquor was served there. If there had been, he was sure there would have been as many unseemly displays among these male couples as there would have been among male-female pairs in regular bars. But the Blue Cow was just a quiet meeting place for the gay guys. Every group needs a social gathering point, and this happened to be it for this border of the campus for the homo element.
After midnight one Friday, Eddie was asked by his boss if he'd like to make a little extra cash. He wanted Eddie's help in catering some food to a party. Eddie didn't know Sam could cook. There were stoves and ovens in the kitchen of the Blue Cow, but other than making coffee and an occasional hamburger, nothing was ever prepared there. That night, however, Sam worked like a demon. There were exotic seafoods, pizzas, complicated stews. He carefuUy placed all in containers to keep them warm and he and Eddie loaded them into his station wagon.
The house which was the scene of the party proved a surprise. Judging from the people he had seen in the Blue Cow, Eddie would have guessed it would range from a tenement to a fairly nice apartment. But nothing this elegant.
His only criterion for comparison was Elizabeth's place. This was probably not furnished quite so expensively, but it was, on the other hand, more elegant. The only room in Elizabeth's apartment that had been almost garish in heightened effect was her bedroom; well, in this house, every room was way out. They were elegant to the point of preciousness. It came as no surprise, after his stunned eyes had taken in most of the establishment, that two interior decorators shared these quarters.
Although obviously there was wealth represented here, and the guests were far out of Eddie's class, there was no snobbery toward him. In fact, he was not treated as the guy who helped cater the food. Some of them knew Eddie from seeing him at the Blue Cow, and greeted him as an acquaintance. He was handed a drink and made to feel at home.
It was excellent, aged Scotch in his glass, but Eddie didn't know that. He just knew it was very strong and he didn't like the taste one bit. However, he swigged at it, and he moved from one group to another, or they moved him.
When he had finished that glass, another was handed him-almost automatically, nobody really asking him what he "wanted, if anything-and he sipped at that. The fact that this one was bourbon and the next was vodka didn't make any impression on Eddie. He was unused to liquor; if he'd thought about it rationally at all, he would probably have had respect for it, so that he'd be cautious of it. Somehow-despite his experience with brandy and wine-he still thought of liquor as he knew it from the movies when he was a kid: people tossed off great glassfuls of it and it didn't stagger them. He thought it was just sort of adult soda-pop.
Within an hour or so, the party was hopping. Just like any other party, Eddie noted. Well, not quite, he had to qualify, since there were only males here. But the music was getting louder, just like at any other party, because people kept turning the volume up as the voices kept going up; it was a shrill competition, and the alcohol was egging all of them on.
Somebody handed him a fresh drink, and then he had to get to the bathroom; too much drinking.
Eddie managed to get up the wide curve of the staircase to the second floor. Following directions toward the bath, he went through a really charming sitting room. There were several couples there, chatting and laughing, but what brought up Eddie's attention sharp were the paintings, statues, and books. At first, he saw them only hazily, through his drink-distorted, weary eyeballs. But then he noticed that they were different art objects from any he had ever seen. Like the guests, they were all male. There was a huge painting of two men-naked. In an ordinary home, Eddie realized mistily, you'd see a big painting like that of a naked goddess or something, and you'd just appreciate it as a piece of art. But this painting of two naked men-well, it was no great work of art. It was obscene. And there was a white marble statue of two men, and they were-yes, there was no mistake-they were coupling like animals. There were other paintings and statues on just about the same theme, as well as huge, obviously expensive books that Were open to illustrations of men in various poses, and magazines with such pictures-and every one a nude.
Eddie smiled to himself. He was seeing all this, but he had the smug satisfaction of knowing he was normal and he was an outsider getting a first-hand look, but untouched by their perversion. He went on to the bathroom.
It was far more feminine than even that French whore-house decor of Elizabeth's bath. Eddie was just taking in all these observations, the casual observer of a peculiar facet of life. He wandered out of the bathroom, but he left by the door opposite the one he'd entered.
And-good Lord!-there in a bedroom was another twosome involved in coupling. Only this pair was life, and there was nothing of the quiet statue about them. This was flesh, this was for real.
Eddie took in the whole tableau in a moment, then backed out, going through the bathroom again.
He was laughing by the time he got to the parlor again. A few hours before, such a scene would have shocked him to the core, and perhaps so disgusted him that he would have had to vomit.
But now Eddie stood there snorting with laughter. The men in the room looked at him. One or two sniffed at his obvious drunkenness, but the others were gently amused by this boy.
Eddie was thinking of how funny they all were, and of the ludicruous scene of lust he had witnessed in the other room. It was funny-two men doing that. But then-to be objective, he admitted-he had to see all sex acts as funny, right now, in his present frame of mind. Sure it was ridiculous to see men going at it like that ... but was it any less funny how worked up he had gotten about Elizabeth? Was his panting and raving and frothing at the mouth as he thrashed on the mattress with her, much less silly? No, he had to tell himself, it all amounted to getting your gun off and any other explanation was just so much romantic dribble.
The guests gathered around Eddie. Someone gave him another drink. Eddie tried to talk with them, but found his tongue too thick to make it get out all the sense he wanted to; words slurred and then sentences slid away before he'd quite got them all completed.
What he was trying to say was how funny he found their entire setup here-the two men working away like animals for their satisfaction back there in a bedroom; the artsy conversation they were making in all the rooms of the house; the dancing together; those funny drawings and statues.
He couldn't quite get it all out in words, because he felt so woozy, and at the same time so amused that he could hardly keep from shouting with gleeful laughter.
Well, he'd show them what he thought was so funny. Staggering and weaving, he threw off his coat and took off his shirt. He ripped some buttons doing it, but he got the shirt away from his thick fingers finally, and tore the stupid undershirt off. Bare to the waist, Eddie stood by one of the white statues and made fun of the pose of one of the naked men. He laughed uproariously at his own sense of humor and parody. The others laughed with him. Eddie's head was spinning and he had to lean against the statue to keep from falling. Some of the guests swiftly grabbed him-not only to keep the statue from being toppled, but to keep Eddie from slamming to the floor and hurting himself.
They were with him all the way in his fun-making now. They laughed and chortled and made little jokes as they took the rest of the clothes off him. He tried to stop them, but his efforts were feeble. Not only was he so drunk, but he was laughing. Everything struck him as funny. Even their dainty hands seemed to tickle him as they "unveiled" him, as one called it.
Well, what the hell? He'd show 'em what a man looked like. He posed now beside some of the other statues, mocking the fragile, queer beauties.
And then there was one of the guests naked beside him, and the naked man abetted Eddie in making sport of the lewd art. Eddie didn't feel peculiar about being naked now-it seemed okay, like after gym classes in high school.
One of the guests had a Polaroid camera, and he took a photograph of Eddie with the nude companion. He ripped off the shot and handed it to Eddie. Eddie threw back his head and laughed-it was so ridiculous to see the two of them aping the beautiful statue. It struck Eddie especially funny that the statue was all white, while he and the boy had hair that showed up startlingly dark against their skin. He and his fellow model skipped over to be beside a huge painting, and again the young man with the camera snapped their picture. And then another.
Eddie had looked directly into the bright, flashing light that last time, and it seemed to stagger him even more. All he could see for several moments was big blinding lights that got larger then receded, then got big again. He put his hand up to his eyes, then held his head. His head was swimming, and his legs became weak. It wasn't the light now-it was nothing from outside, but all that liquor taking effect. He felt he was going to throw up and he felt as if he was fainting. Eddie passed out.
He awoke early the next morning. Someone was shaking him. It was Sam. He hadn't seen his boss for hours the night before, and now couldn't place him or his surroundings.
Sam got him up, and Eddie slowly, painfully got in his clothes. His clothes had been tossed on the bed, and the bed was in a bedroom on the second floor of that place. There was one of those Polaroid pictures on his coat, and Sam stuck it in Eddie's pocket before helping him on with the coat.
He wouldn't think any more of what might have gone on while he was out cold-that was over and past. In his pocket he found that awful picture. He started to crumple it up, then thought, No, by God, I'll save it. He wanted to be reminded of what a damn fool he'd been, and what might happen again if he went to dumb places and drank too much.
He put the photograph in a safe place among his possessions.
And he kept the resolutions he made to himself while that hideous hangover was upon him: he would quit the Blue Cow. Furthermore, he'd go back to law school and complete his education-and make something of himself.