The Truth About Jack and Ray by Gabriella West

Author:Gabriella West
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Source: Smashwords, M/M Contemporary
Publisher: Gabriella West, via Smashwords
Published: 2011-06-01T00:00:00+00:00

“I do.”

We make love again, still very simply. I banish the thought of those sailors from my mind.

***

Once a girl raised her hand in one of my classes and asked me what “tacit” meant. I explained that the word sprang from the Latin verb “to be silent,” and delving deeper, I told her that it implied a silent agreement not to speak on a particular subject. I asked the class if they could think of any context in which such a tacit agreement might be made. They couldn’t. It was as if, in their generation, everything was said, everything was being said. It was the late ’60s. I looked at them in admiration. That honesty, that sexual and emotional honesty, wasn’t really an option for men and women of my generation.

So Dick, for example, must have known about Ray and me. But somehow we were all able to continue the charade that he didn’t know. A coldness sprang up between him and I, a guardedness that hadn’t been there before. And he started bringing a girl home. Her name was Harriet. She had long dark hair and big, sweet eyes, and was an English major at Berkeley. She was from Oregon. We got on very well, she and I. Ray simply ignored her. She spent a lot of time perched on a chair, watching Dick work. I, more subtly, watched Ray.

***

Then Dick sells a piece. I walk into the kitchen one day and he rushes over and hugs me. I have never seen him so happy. “$5,000!” he shouts, waving the check in my face. “Dick, I’m so glad,” I say, and he smiles and nods and rushes to the phone. “Thanks. Where’s Ray? I’m calling Harriet. We’re going out to dinner tonight. We’re going to drink deep.”

Ray enters the kitchen cautiously, straining his ears to hear Dick on the phone. He looks as if he expects some bad news. “Dick sold the lump,” I say in a low voice. The lump is what we privately call Dick’s piece—the greenish statue of indeterminate nature which has been sitting on the studio floor for months.

I’ll never forget the expression that passes over his face. He controls himself quickly. When Dick reenters the kitchen Ray smilingly proffers his congratulations.

“Hey, thanks,” Dick says. “You’re next, right?”

Ray shrugs.

Harriet soon arrives and we all set off. They walk ahead of us down the quiet street. We live in a secluded part of North Beach.

“Where’s he taking us?” I ask.

“The Italian place. Only the best for Dick.”

“Good, I’m hungry,” I say, briskly.

Ray strides along beside me, saying nothing. I realize that he has gone into one of his depressions. These can last for days; they come on suddenly. I hate to think of the jealousy that seems to be eating him up inside; I’m amazed at how strongly he feels. It’s Dick, after all, our friend. I know I’m happy for him, at least. It’s something about Ray that I don’t like, but I can understand it, I rationalize.

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