Page 387 - Some Dance to Remember

Some Dance to Remember 357

bodybuilders. The angry red bumps signaled a boiling metabolism trying
to detoxify poisonous injections. Mortality. Death.
Ryan was more resolved than ever.
Even if no one else spoke straight to Kick, he would; for the first time,
he would.
Because he loved him.
All day he tried to find an opening. Some way to broach the subject,
but Kick was full of chat about his Birmingham trip, about the Mr. Cali-
fornia, about getting back to the gym.

2

That evening, they drove the Corvette to supper at Without Reserva-
tion on Castro. They sat at their usual table in the front window. Kick was
excited by his return to the crowded street.
“God! Castro gives me face!” He pointed to his grin.
Usually Kick’s perpetual optimism made him glow like the blond
movie hero who can see the way out for everyone. Not this time. The
steroidal changes in his face shook Ryan. He was in a way more handsome
than ever, but he looked different from that first night three years before
in El Lay. He was changed and he wasn’t seeing straight.
He refused to acknowledge AIDS.
He could not see that Castro Street had become the River Styx. The
gay parade had slowed to a funeral march. Ryan excused himself and
walked a path through the close tables back to the rest room. Maybe he
was the one not seeing straight. It was he, not Kick who had made himself
the outsider on Castro. He needed a moment alone to catch his breath.
The toilet walls were covered with graffiti. He hated the curse of lit-
eracy. Once you can read, you can avoid none of the writing on any wall:
“You told your parents you were gay. All they could do was hang their
heads in shame. So God in Her infinite understanding sent you AIDS.”
Ryan moaned. “Just what I need. Signs and omens are everywhere.”
He ran from the toilet back to the table. The graffiti resolved his impera-
tive of health. He could not eat the food on his plate. Gay waiters seemed
dangerous.
“Let’s mosey around before we go back home,” Kick said.
“I’d rather go home right now,” Ryan said. “I have to talk to you about
something.”
Kick looked surprised. “You’re the coach.”
The ride home was strangely silent. Kick sensed something serious

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