Page 382 - Some Dance to Remember

352 Jack Fritscher

have strayed off some college playing field, had disappeared. In his place
was a hard-core El Lay bodybuilder. A professional. A mercenary.
“So what do you think?” Kick smiled, anticipating the enthusiasm he
expected from Ryan.
“You’re too much,” Ryan said ambiguously. He had been changing
too. He could make one thing mean two things purposely, easily. He
dropped back from truth. “You’re terrific.” He rallied his determination.
“You...are...beyond our wildest dreams.”
“I promised you we’d take muscle as far as it could go.” Kick worked
his seductive grin. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet!”
Passengers deplaning from holiday trips streamed around them. Ryan
wanted to embrace Kick, hold him, shake him; but he could not. Their
feelings were at the public mercy. The straight couples hugging each other,
in away forbidden to them, suddenly made him feel very gay.
“Fuck it,” Ryan said. He threw his arms around Kick and hugged him
close. “I love you.”
Kick hugged him back. “I knew you’d go for it. I did it for us. I’m
going to take the Mr. California, the Mr. America, the Mr. Universe.” He
held Ryan out at arms’ length. “I’m taking you along. I’ll take the titles
and you’ll do our book. We’re going and we’re going together. How’s that
for a New Year’s resolution! You and me!”
You and me. Ryan hated himself. His real face hid behind the face he
showed Kick. You and me. Reciprocal terms. You and me. One can’t be
understood without the other. Like father and child, love and hate, life and
death, anima and animus. Yin and yang. Difference and deference. Saying
yes and saying no.
“You and me,” Ryan said. “It’s reciprocal.”
“Me, jock. You, coach! Let’s hit it!”
Reciprocity. Ryan had been thinking reciprocity all day. The Chronicle
that morning had featured a lead story about the isolation of the AIDS
virus, a virus turned reverse, a retrovirus that replicated genetic material
backward.
Mirrorfucks and real love.
They were all falling through the looking glass.
Kick had changed over the holidays, but not so much that Ryan didn’t
love him. Kick’s bravado was the bravado of steroids. Ryan felt immobi-
lized. He knew what he must do, but he did not know if he could follow
his plan. He knew the odds of convincing someone on drugs of anything
at all. He would say nothing the first night. He would wait till the next
night. In case everything went haywire, he wanted to have at least one last

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