Page 328 - Some Dance to Remember

298 Jack Fritscher

more than his father.
The bank in Birmingham had tied up his trust fund.
And then there was Logan; some vague trouble that Ryan knew had
long been brewing.
But Ryan, and this was part of the secret of his successful intimacy
with men, never asked questions. He disciplined himself to a priestly
patience and waited until the information, he in truth out of curiosity
was dying for, was simply confessed.
“I love you.” Ryan primed the pump.
“I love you.”
“I love you, Billy Ray, more than anyone.”
Kick looked a bit shocked hearing his own real Southern Baptist
name.
“Life isn’t always up,” Ryan said. “God! You know I know that. It’s
okay for you to come down off the posing platform. It’s okay for you to
be tired.”
“I shouldn’t have come down from Bar Nada this weekend.” He hesi-
tated. “But sometimes things get a little out of control up there.”
“Things have always gotten out of control up there. I think there’s a
curse on the place.”
“No,” Kick said. “Bar Nada is a wonderful place. It’s me, I guess.”
Ryan felt a competitive surge. He could beat Logan’s big muscles if
only he could be equally somehow larger than life. He had only words,
but words were his strong suit.
“I may not have eighteen-inch biceps,” he said, “but my arms are
big enough to hold you.” He caught himself. He remembered his own
claustrophobia from Teddy’s holding onto him. “I mean big enough to
embrace you.”
“You’re the biggest man I know,” Kick said. “Honestly.”
“Honesty is all we’ve got going.” Ryan ached to tell Kick how hurt
he was by his long absences. He ached to tell him how foolish he was to
waste precious time on Logan. He ached to tell Kick that he was in-love
with him and that it was time for Kick to respect that and not deny it. But
he did not. He did not lie exactly; rather, he dissembled: that quality of
saying the almost-whole truth, and nothing but the almost-whole truth,
that the other party wants to hear as the whole truth.
“I wouldn’t trade this moment,” Ryan said, “for six of our usual
nights, wonderful as they are. We’re beginning to touch each other.” He
grasped for straws. “We’re not even stoned.”
“Maybe we should be.”

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