Page 196 - Some Dance to Remember

166 Jack Fritscher

by such purely masculine definition. Have I told you lately that I
love you? Well, fucker, I’m telling you now.
What I want to be is what I am: a man.
What I want to do is love you.
Amid all our being and doing, I’m finding my want fulfilled.
Please don’t let me take advantage of you in any way. You’ve been
nothing but supportive of me, of us, in every way. I want only
to return that support to you. Never, not ever, did I once expect
to find the reality that is you, Ry. A man couldn’t ask for better
than the totally unselfish love you’ve given me. I love your ass! If
repetition can drive home a point, then let me say over and over:
I love you, Ryan Steven O’Hara!

“All I hear,” Robert Opel said, “is Ryan and Kick, Kick and Ryan.
Rickety rack. Down the track.” Opel wanted them for his opening. “I
want to show you off together.” Opel sat in Ryan’s kitchen. “You’ve both
spent a great deal of time creating your relationship.” He spoke close to
Ryan’s ear.” I know what you’re doing.”
Ryan was amused. “What are we doing?”
“He’s your greatest creation. You may be Pygmalion. You may be
Frankenstein. You may be the Black Lagoon.”
“He’s my lover,” Ryan said.
“He’s a bodybuilder.”
“He’s a man.”
“He is art.” Opel was intense. “He’s a performance artist.”
“Who isn’t? This is San Francisco,” Ryan said. “Everybody’s a star.”
“He’s an ideal.” Opel grasped Ryan’s hand. “I have a theory that some
men bloom early, some men late, some never bloom at all, and some lucky
few go in and out of bloom.”
“So what do you want?”
“I must show you both off in my performance art gallery.”
“Both?” Ryan asked. “Kick? And me?” He spread his forefinger and
thumb from the bridge of his nose outward across his closed eyelids.
He looked up at Opel. “You want bloom? Kick’s in bloom. I’m only the
gardener.”
“Don’t shit me,” Opel was relentless. “Love’s in bloom. Maneuvers is
in bloom. Even your silly Manifesto is in bloom. What a send-up! What a
perfect joke! It makes people crazy! Selling it in tabloid on street corners
is the perfect trashy touch. It’s so Enquirer!”
“Inquiring minds want to know,” Ryan said.

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