Chapter 8
Boland left Minneapolis with the official blessings of the Paris school and, as a special graduation gift, a small leatherette wallet filled with cards that read, Edward E. Boland, Ph.D. Marriage Counselling and psychotherapy. Boland wondered how much he'd paid for that.
He flew to Los Angeles on a non-scheduled airplane with five rows of seats and two surly stewardesses who dispensed limp chicken sandwiches and weak coffee with tr j shop-worn attitude of a waitress in a skid row grab joint.
He was met at the Lockheed Airport in Burbank by Lilly, and at the first sight of her, was overwhelmed by tears. Holding her tightly in his arms, Boland realized this was more than a second chance and a new start, it was an opportunity to do things he'd always wanted to, to help people and give them sincere guidance. He could do it all now, do it with dignity and pride. And there was Lilly thrown in with the bargain, too.
She escorted him to a fifty-two Chevy. "It isn't much, but it's paid for, Ed. It's the beginning for us." While they drove to her Bur bank apartment, Boland realized that the time had finally come when, he could make up for the things back in Hurley by becoming a better person. It was an assignment he'd gladly take.
They were not in Lilly's apartment for ten minutes before Boland led her into the bedroom and began kissing and caressing, making up for all the agonizingly long months of separation. As she stood nakedly before him, her full, firm body eager to press against him, Boland thought of the unknown men she'd had in her life and of the one who'd almost become too much competition for him. He thought of his own episodes with Grace Edwards and Nola Peddersen. This was yet another chance being presented him, the opportunity to put all these things where they belonged-anchored safely in the past.
As Boland took possession of Lilly's body, she wound her arms and legs tightly about him, a gesture deliberately calculated to slow things down. He understood and appreciated it at once. Lilly wanted no more of the frightening, uncertain frenzy to come into their love making, she wanted all to be slow and meaningful, as it had been in the days when they'd discovered their love and attraction for each other.
It was a new start and Boland thought it appropriate that they set a new pattern, a new way. He was lingering and appreciative, taking full time to kiss her lips and run the tips of his fingers over the glowing readiness of her distended breasts and saffron tinted aureoles. Lilly responded in a lively, eager way that imparted her fondness and willingness to make this last and grow into something even more meaningful.
Then finally the fullness of their desire and need took over and they began moving together in slow, considerate plunges, the friction building up to a steady, rapid comfort. And then it happened, the comfort reached a peak and overflowed. Boland sighed with happiness and knew Lilly was crying.
They'd done it, regained the old touch, the old tenderness, the old meaning between them. Everything was going to go well for them from now on. Without words and in the best possible way, they related to each other the need and hunger that had existed during their separation. Their closeness was a means of each pardoning the other, of welcoming the other back.
"It's going to be just the two of us from now on," Lilly whispered into his ear. "I'm going to be the best possible wife for you a man could ever have. I'm so proud of you, Ed, so very proud. I'll make it all up to you, Ed, every pang of hurt and misery and despair I've caused you."
He fell asleep happily in her arms, a great weight off of him. He remained asleep for nearly ten hours, another of the greatest luxuries he'd known in long, miserable months. Not bad, he thought, for a guy with a phony degree. But I'll make up for that. I'll damned well make up for it.
One of the first things they did after breakfast was drive Lilly's Chewy to downtown Los Angeles, where they took blood tests at the County General Hospital, then applied at the Hall of Records for a Marriage License. Boland wanted to see about registering to take the qualification examinations, enabling him to open practice in the State of California.
"There's time for that," Lilly said, leading him on a sight-seeing trip. "I met someone through a friend of mine who'll be able to help you with that. You'll know all the things to study for the exam. He'll help you cut a lot of red tape."
"I'll never wear heavy clothing again," Boland told her happily.
Two days later, Boland kept an appointment made by Lilly with Charles Wyckoff, an advisor for the State Licensing Board. A burly, affable man, Wyckoff asked probing questions of Boland for the better part of an hour, then handed him a list of books to read. "With what you know already, Ed, this should get you through. I wouldn't worry about it, too much. The only sweat you'll have is the compulsory ninety days needed for establishing residency."
Boland had little difficulty. With his Ph.D. degree, he was able to find work almost immediately for a small electronics company in the Eastern section of the San Fernando Valley. To Boland's amazement, this job he considered only temporary paid him a larger salary than he'd ever made in his life.
After a week of work, Boland and Lilly drove to Santa Barbara and were married. Their honeymoon was spent in a deluxe suite at the Santa Barbara Biltmore Hotel. Standing on the balcony, overlooking the wide, clear swath of ocean, Boland held Lilly tightly to him. "Talk about the good life," he said, beaming with happiness. "This is like awakening from a nightmare."
"Now you see why I was so anxious for you to get here," Lilly told him.
"It's amazing. Everything is. For the first time in my life, I can spend money without feeling guilty about it. I can know tint there's more to pay the bills. Oh, sure, it'll still be rough sledding for a while. I've got to get an office and you don't just start right off with a full list of patients right away. In fact, that was about the only thing they didn't mention at all at Parsons School, how you got patients."
"A lot of it is word of mouth, and believe it or not, you go to cocktail parties and some of the better restaurants and you meet people. Everyone says Los Angeles is unfriendly because it's so spread out. You'll find that just isn't true."
Boland tightened his grip on Lilly's waist. "For the moment, let's forget L.A. Let's see how friendly Santa Barbara is. I understand wives fall all over their husbands here."
It seemed strange and luxurious, making love to Lilly on the overly large bed. It reminded Boland of his all-too-brief stint in Europe while in the service. He'd taken a week-end tour in Italy and gone to one of the famous villas on the Mediterranean. The most memorable thing about the tour had been a bath he'd had in a deep, sunken tub, with the water pouring in on him from two solid gold ornaments. It had been one of the most luxurious moments in his life until now. And here he was, in a fantastic hotel, m a fantastic area with his wife, for the first time. There were no limits, absolutely none. No landlady to worry about, no need to go sneaking out of rooms at two or three in the morning to avoid discovery. It was legal and fitting and proper.
Jubilantly, he undid her blouse and clasped her to him, the bareness of her breasts pushing hope and excitement through him. As he eased her over to the large bed and lay down next to her, Boland was able to believe he had the world by the tail.
With a practice born of time, love and passion, he and Lilly merged together. "It's really official," he told her. "This does it beyond any doubt."
Lilly lay playfully under him. "Is this what they mean by solemnizing the vows?" she said.
"If it is," Boland said, "let's be solemn."
They remained in Santa Barbara until Sunday afternoon, then took a leisurely drive down the coast, arriving home before midnight.
Once again, the atmosphere of luxury pervaded. Boland didn't have to be at work until eight-thirty. He and Lilly had time for a leisurely breakfast before going their separate ways. Later in the week, he bought a car of his own, finding there was no trouble in arranging credit.
Life was a series of unbelievable dreams for two weeks, until Boland began writing checks to cover his debts in Hurley. Lilly raged with jealousy over Grace Edwards and Nola Peddersen and Boland found himself countering with a remark that escaped his lips like an upper-cut. "It was wrong for me, but apparently the same thing wasn't true with you ?"
"I did my best, Ed."
"So did I. Now we're married and there's a future. Can't we leave it at that?"
Lily went on at great length and Boland couldn't see it. There was something wrong, something disturbing him. They'd both agreed to let by-gones be by-gones. Fresh slate. Clean start. What was nagging away at her now?
Lilly got two weeks off for Christmas vacation, but Boland still had to work days. During their spare time, they poured through local papers and real estate listings for an office suitable for Boland to use when he could begin his practice.
After carefully going over things, they agreed to be practical. They hoped, through referrals, to build up Boland's practice to a rather exclusive clientele from the Beverly Hills, Brentwood and West Los Angeles areas. As a happy compromise, Boland knew he'd have to rely on bread and butter patients for a time, charging minimal fees and getting by on very little profit. They agreed his earnings from the electronics job would be used to pay off his debts in Hurley, reduce Lilly's, and start in on furniture for the office.
After a week of looking, they agreed on the lower floor of a four-plex building just south of Beverly Hills in "West Hollywood. The rugs and drapes came from Sears Roebuck, but they were able to establish further credit by paying cash for these purchases. Since there was still time before Boland's examination and licensing, they agreed that the entire furnishing could be done slowly. With next week's salary, Boland bought a Swedish modern desk at a small decorator's shop on the Sunset Strip. Quite openly, Boland told the salesman he was soon to enter practice as a counselor and therapist. The salesman, an obvious homosexual, waited until Lilly dashed out to feed pennies into the parking meter before broaching a subject.
"Do you think you could do anything' for me?"
Boland faced him squarely. "Depends what you want done?"
The salesman sighed and made a desperate gesture. "I'm getting tired of gay life. Do you think you could cure me?"
Boland surveyed him. "I don't know. Do you consider yourself ill?"
"I'm gay. Don't you people try to cure us?"
"I'd try to help you. I don't think cure is the right word. I don't think you're diseased, just slightly mistaken."
"Give me your card. I'm going to see you. My name is Ralph Hooten."
Boland shook his hand, firmly. "Only trouble is, you'll have to wait until to get my license to practice in this state. It won't be too much longer. Maybe a month."
"Heavens," Ralph Hooten said. "That's terribly long. Can't we begin now? I won't tell anyone. I certainly wouldn't want you to get into trouble."
"It's against the law."
Hooten cradled his elbow in the palm of his hand and poked a lean finger in his mouth, deep in thought. "I'll tell you what, we'll work on exchange basis where you'll more or less talk to me in the evenings, listen to me and give me advice as a friend. In return, I'll arrange the complete decoration of your office and no one can say you're breaking the law. I'm just going to you for advice and friendly chatting. Besides, if this works out well, I could recommend patients to you, wealthy young men who've become completely fed up with the gay life."
Boland considered. It was tempting. There was no question about it, homosexuals were a challenge. There were some doctors who claimed a cure was impossible. Boland had only his experience with Grace Edwards to go on. "All right, Ralph," he said, extending his hand, "you've got a deal. We'll start next week. Just to keep it on a friendly basis, why don't you come out to our place for dinner next Monday?"
In the following week, Boland haunted the libraries, cramming everything he could find on homosexuality into his head. He wanted the latest theories as well as those that had been junked. If Ralph or any of his friends had been subjected to psychiatrists or therapists before, it was important to see where they'd gone astray and picked up the wrong attitudes.
From book stands in Hollywood, he bought publications appealing to the homosexual point of view and tried to digest the way they justified their existence with a combination of Aristotelian logic and a childish sollipsism.
By the time Ralph Hooten appeared for dinner Monday night, he felt armed and ready to begin. Boland was particularly pleased with the way Lilly had set the table and prepared a lamb crown roast. Half way through the meal, sipping an excellent wine Ralph had brought, it occurred to Boland that thin was their first real "at home" evening. He nudged Lilly under the table with his foot and tried to convey his pride with her.
During the meal, Hooten gave guarded background and Boland knew he was waiting for Lilly to leave. When the dishes were cleared, Boland poured large splashes of cognac and thought to loosen Ralph up a bit, set him at ease. Lilly excused herself and took a batch of papers into the bedroom to correct.
Hooten smoked cigarette after cigarette and accomplished nothing the first night except venting rage and hostility against heterosexuals. He also helped Boland rearrange some of the furniture, called Lilly out of the bedroom and set her to work rearranging some of the pictures and paintings hanging on the wall. After Hooten left, promising to meet Boland at his office the next Wednesday, Lilly estimated that there was nearly twenty percent more floor space in their living room, thanks to Ralph's arrangements.
"At least," Boland said, "we know he has an orderly, inventive mind."
Hooten's case began to intrigue Boland. Ralph expended a great deal of energy avoiding any references to his own problems, forced Boland to return the drapes to Sears and, with his own material and sewing machine, made intricate and delicately shirred drapes.
"You've spent a fortune in time and effort on this," Boland told him.
"And you've spent a great deal of your time listening to my chatter and prattle."
"Okay, Ralph. Don't you think now's the time to get off your ass and tell me what's bugging you?"
"You can't talk to me that way, Ed. I won't have it."
"I'll talk that way until you tell me you want to forget the whole business. Or maybe you've changed your mind and still want to stay gay."
"No," Ralph insisted. "I don't! I really don't."
"Okay then, sit down and let's have it."
Ralph Hooten did just that. By the time Boland was notified it would be time to take his written exams for the licensing board, Ralph had told him enough for certain suggestions to be made. Grimly, Ralph tried to comply and just as grimly, Boland tried to arrange things so that it was actually Ralph who was making the suggestions.
"I guess," Ralph said one evening, "I should kick out my roommate. He's nothing but a leach and he cheats on me all over the place. I guess I ought to try living alone ... or maybe finding a roommate who's straight."
"Suppose you found a room mate who wasn't a homosexual and you got a yen for him? Wouldn't you be in trouble either way?"
"I see what you mean," Ralph said, pained. "I've been beaten up several times for making passes at boys who weren't gay. If that happened again, I'd feel awful. On the other hand, if I were successful, I'd feel guilty. I guess I'd better try going it alone. But it's going to be hard, Ed. I'm a sissy."
"I'm beginning to think you've got a lot of guts," Boland told him. "It will be something if you can kick out your room mate. That won't be easy."
"I'll make a terrible scene," Ralph Hooten promised. "I'm very good at that."
Driving home to Lilly, Boland realized how exciting his new line of work was going to be. Already, he was taken up in Ralph's struggle, one he believed would be long and epic. Ralph wasn't the type, he thought, to break such a long habit over night. There were bound to be relapses, possible arrests. One thing was certain, he believed Ralph was telling the truth when he promised to make a real scene. And another thing was even more rewarding. Boland was sure now that his earlier antipathy to Ralph Hooten was vanished. Boland was able to see him as a person with a struggle. A person who wanted to make something out of his life.
The world felt good, rich and opulent for him. He hadn't even been licensed yet and already he was making good on his promise to take full advantage of the Parsons diploma and make it mean something.
When he arrived home, it was nearly midnight and Lilly was not in. Puzzled, Boland poured himself a beer and settled down with a book to wait for her. Knowing she had school the next morning, Boland became worried and jumpy when she did not return by one. Perhaps it was her car. That would have to go. The thought perked him up a bit. How great it was to be able to think, no wife of Ed Boland was going to ride around in an old rattle trap.
Lilly came home at a quarter of two. When Boland saw her standing in the doorway, he felt anything but great. Her disheveled appearance, the look of abject guilt on her face and the sudden expression of a deep, pleading sexual need rooted him to the chair and carried him back in time to that painful moment when he knew she'd been out with Bert Thielan, just for a steak dinner.
"I'm sorry," she said. "There was a PTA meeting. It-it lasted late because we had to discuss some problem children. I-I passed around some of your cards, Ed. I thought it might interest you to work with emotionally disturbed children who are really very bright under the surface."
It was a lie and he knew it because of her jerky delivery, her almost imploring vitality in presenting it to him. She moved quickly across the floor to him, dropping to her knees at his side. From the puppy-dog look on her face, Boland could tell Lilly knew she'd been caught with her lie.
"I'm sorry, Ed."
"What happened, Lilly? Did Herb Havelock decide to come to California for a vacation? Were you showing him the sights?"
Lilly reacted as though she'd been slapped in the face. She averted her eyes from him. "Ed, you've got to believe me, I'm sorry. It-it was something I had to do."
"Had to do, Lilly? That means something's wrong between us."
Vehemently, Lilly shook her head. "No, that isn't true! It's very good with us, Ed. It's never been better. Please, please don't ask me any more. You've got to believe me; it was something that had to be done."
"You went to bed with another man and you want me to believe it was necessary, but I'm not supposed to ask why? Oh, Lilly, I can't let this go by. You say there's nothing wrong between us, then why? Why did you do it?"
Lilly began to cry.
"That won't help, Lilly. Tell me."
"I can't."
"You've got to, Lilly. I can't go around wondering like this. That would be the worst torture imaginable."
"It will be worst torture if you know, Ed."
"Baby, are you willing to put our marriage on the line? Knowing you were with another man and won't tell me why, something between us will be lost forever."
Lilly bit her lip. "All right," she said, "I'll tell you. But then you can't blame me."
"I'm not trying to blame, dammit; I'm trying to find out why."
To Boland's surprise, Lilly turned on him angrily. "You and your damned psychology, always trying to find out why, why, why? Can't you leave it be? Can't you take my word once in a while? Even you said there are some secrets a husband and wife can have."
"Not this one, Lilly. It isn't a secret anymore. Can't you see, I'd never be able to trust you. I'd be suspicious and jealous and it would ruin everything.
Lilly sighed deeply and calmed herself. She reached for the handkerchief in his jacket pocket and dabbed at the corners of her eyes.
"As you know," she said, "I have a comparatively large, well-shaped body. It-it manages to excite men's imaginations. Because I wear my hair long and have high cheek bones and dress a bit out of style, I have an exotic appearance that appeals to many men."
"How well I know," Boland mused. "I've never been able to get you out of my mind."
"All right. Sometimes I think it's a curse. You don't know how strong I've had to be at times."
"Why couldn't you be strong this time?"
"It was for you, don't you understand?"
"For me? You went to bed with another man for me?"
"Charlie Wyckoff. That degree of yours is hardly worth the paper it's printed on. You want to be able to get a license, don't you? You want to be able to practice here, don't you? Well, this was the only way you could have gotten it. Otherwise you wouldn't have stood a chance. As it stands now, there's nothing to stop you. It's that simple, Ed. You've worked so hard and gone through so much, I felt I had to do something."
"This has happened before, hasn't it?"
"This is the fifth time I've been to bed with Wyckoff."
"This is monstrous."
"You don't have anything to worry about. He was already beginning to complain that I was listless."
"And you weren't before, were you, Lilly?"
"What do you want, Ed? The clinical details. No, I wasn't listless before. I was the best he's ever had. He said so. That was also part of the deal, Ed. It was a calculated risk. He said I'd damned well better be the best he's ever had."
"The bastard," Boland said, "the dirty bastard."
"You don't have to worry about it any more. It's all over. You'll get your license. You wouldn't even have to show up for the exam and you'd still get it ... now."
Boland felt wobbly. He needed a drink. He should have known better than to expect such an instant change from misery into happiness. There was more than a financial price tag attached to that phony degree of his. There was integrity and happiness and security and comfort, too. Ed Boland, consulting therapist and counselor, by the grace of a crooked licensing inspector and Lilly's body.
He poured himself a tall splash of scotch whisky and wondered what could possibly happen next. He found out in relatively few minutes when Lilly stood next to him, her hips beginning to gyrate against him. "Please," she said, "you've got to make it all right. You did all those other times."
"There was a difference," Boland said, feeling weary. "All those other times, I didn't know. That is, most of those other times, I didn't know."