Heatstroke

Heatstroke Free Novella

Distributed at www.taylorvdonovan.com by Taylor V. Donovan

This is a work of fiction. Characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either author.

Heatstroke © 2011 Taylor V. Donovan.

All rights reserved worldwide. This eBook may be distributed freely in its entirety courtesy of the author, Taylor V. Donovan. This work may not be sold, manipulated, or reproduced in any format without express written permission from the author. This work contains graphic language and explicit sexual content between two men. Intended for adult audiences only. Not intended for anyone under the age of 18.

Cover Design © 2011 Anne Tenino

Chapter One

Michael Spencer wiped his nose with the back of his hand and waited a few seconds, making sure the most recent sneeze attack was under control before he opened a box and started going through its content. He wasn’t surprised when he found nothing but ties, belts, shoes, some sports shirts with awfully wide lapels and a lot of dust. He put the box away and grabbed another from what looked like a pile of at least a hundred, neatly stacked against the far wall of the attic. This time he found ancient women’s gowns and gloves under a thick layer of dust. “Are you okay?” His best friend’s voice reached him from the phone he was holding between his cheek and shoulder. “The dust is killing me.” “Did you find anything?” “Not yet, Charlie.” “Where are you looking now?” “Some old dresser.” Michael closed one drawer and opened the next, hoping he would find something he could use. “Please, don’t tell me you’re touching your granny’s vintage unmentionables.” Michael moved said unmentionables and other clothing articles to the side to make sure nothing was underneath. “Of course I’m not. Why would she keep old underwear up here anyway?” “You are touching them.” Michael chuckled at the mix of horror and disgust in his best friend’s voice. He could never fool Charlie. “So what if I am?” “You’re a freak.” “I’m a freak?” Michael moved from the dresser to the box that was on top of it. “Should I remind you of that time you were making out with a blowup doll in the middle of the school’s football field at three o’clock in the morning?” “That was once, and I was highly intoxicated.” Michael chuckled again. Intoxicated or not, totally straight, I-live- for-tits Charlie was never going to live down getting caught fondling the male blowup doll the rest of their friends had given Michael as a gag gift on his sixteenth birthday. “Find anything?” “Nope.” Michael closed the box and looked around the room, trying to figure out where to look next. “You looked in her bedroom, right? Under the mattress? Old people like to hide their shit under the mattress.”

“First place I checked.” And only for good measure, as somehow Michael had known he wouldn’t find anything there. He started opening boxes randomly. “You should have let me come over to the lake with you,” Charlie said for the hundredth time. “I could be helping you.” He couldn’t answer right away, as yet another sneeze attack left him with itchy, teary eyes, a throbbing head and a running nose. The dust was killing him for real, but Michael refused to give up. He had been waiting for an opportunity to search this house for almost two years and wasn’t about to let some dirt and snot stop him from doing so now. “You know I would have killed someone just to have you here with me, but Mom is still in a snit after Paul’s phone call. She says I’ll be grounded until I leave for college.” Michael wiped his face with his T-shirt and looked around the attic, wishing everything was labeled and he didn’t have to sort through forty or fifty years of boxed junk. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for, but hoped he would find something that either confirmed or denied his suspicions within the next two hours and well before his family came back home. He sneezed again. Michael disliked dust almost as much as he disliked visiting Grandma Elizabeth. Her place, located on Lake Tahoe, was so far from their house in California it took forever and three weeks to get to it. And if that wasn’t bad enough, they had to deal with her attitude to boot. His grandma was a recluse and seemed to resent her own family’s sporadic visits. She didn’t bother to hide the fact that she preferred to be alone either. Bitterness surrounded her and it was almost suffocating to be around her. For as long as he could remember, Grandma had never been a happy person. None of his recollections from when he was a kid included tender hugs or homemade chocolate chip cookies baked especially for him. In fact, the older he got, the colder her demeanor towards him was. There were never cute birthday cards or long talks about happier times in her life, but Michael clearly remembered her slapping him in his face for touching her things and then forbidding him from going near this very same attic the one time he had gone inside and opened a few trunks. To Michael, it had been nothing but an innocent game of treasure hunt, but now that he was older he could see that Grandma had reacted as if he had uncovered the family’s darkest secret. He was nine then and hadn’t uncovered anything, but he was determined to do so now. “You’ll be eighteen in like, a month, dude.” He heard Charlie say. “She can’t ground you.” “Like that would make a difference to my mother.” The dust was so bad that all of a sudden Michael found himself needing a reminder of why he was there, risking both the wrath of his grandmother and losing his lungs. He wiped his face again and very carefully pulled the picture he’d been carrying with him for the past two years out of his jeans pocket. It was black and white and not an original, as he had printed it out from the Internet, but it was big and clear enough for him to notice the striking resemblance between himself and the young man posing in front of the 20th Century Fox Studios logo some forty-five years ago.

The man in the picture was an actor named Richard Bancroft, and had become an obsession to him the moment he started suspecting who he could be. Since then Michael had printed out everything he could find on the guy. He had also purchased his movies online and watched episodes of the T.V. shows he’d been on hundreds of times on the Internet. And all the time Michael had been impatiently waiting for the chance to get to his Grandma’s house and take a look at the things she guarded like a Doberman would his favorite bone. He folded the picture and put it back in his pocket before going through a few more boxes, his impatience growing as quickly as the minutes were passing. There didn’t seem to be anything but old clothes and shoes and he was running out of time. After another sneeze attack it occurred to Michael that heavier things such as documents and photo albums would be under everything else, so he moved the boxes from the top of the pile out of his way and opened a few of the ones from the bottom at the same time. There had to be something inside at least one of them that would answer his questions once and for all. “But you’re an adult now,” Charlie was saying. “She doesn’t have a say anymore.” “I’m not an adult just yet and she says she can do whatever she wants, especially when I misbehave.” “That’s so much BS,” Charlie complained. “You weren’t misbehaving. You’re a teenager and your hormones are all over the place. She can’t expect for you to not take care of that. I mean, what are you supposed to do? Jerk off all the time?” “Maybe…” “And to not let us hang out for an entire month because you had your hands all over some boy’s bits is just plain wrong, dude. Your mother is evil.” “You know what is evil? This damn attic!” Michael sneezed. “I will never be able to find anything.” “You gotta take it easy and concentrate, dude.” Charlie rushed to say. “You’ve been waiting to get in there like, forever, right?” More like forever and a day, but who was counting? The first time Michael suspected there could be some skeletons in his Grandma’s closet he was only fifteen years old and away at a very exclusive boarding school in New Jersey. Academic elitists that they were, his parents decided they would jumpstart his very well planned Ivy League education the moment he turned twelve by sending him to a school located literally down the road from Princeton University. It was also about 3,000 miles away from their home in Silicon Valley, California. Michael knew he had been sent to that particular school because it had a rigorous academic reputation and the best science program in the country, but luckily for him it also had supportive teachers, an inclusive policy and a very rich arts program. He had loved it out there. It was during his third year at Worthington Academy that he got involved in the drama club. He loved the stage, the lights and the costumes, but more than the acting, it was all the aspects of the

production that really fascinated him. Helping things move along backstage made him happy and he wished for nothing else. He got it anyway. During his fourth year at Worthington he landed one of the male lead roles in the school’s revival of Café Au Lait, a very popular Broadway musical. The director of their drama club swore Michael was a dead ringer for Richard Bancroft, the young actor that had made the character of Bernard Collins famous in the early 1960s. He demanded that Michael take on the role; no buts, no excuses. Truth was Michael hadn’t made a big deal out of looking like some famous dude from years ago, but his flippant attitude changed a few months later when he traveled home during the school’s holiday break. For reasons he couldn’t remember Grandma Elizabeth happened to be staying with his parents at the time, and she lost her shit when Michael mentioned his theater director thought he looked just like this Richard guy. She had screamed that Michael didn’t look anything like that perverted actor and demanded from his father that he put a stop to that theater nonsense. She also said his father shouldn’t allow for him to have anything to do with acting, because that world was one of pure evil and sin. She had then looked at Michael again and forbidden him from ever speaking that man’s name again, just like she had forbidden him from going into the attic all those years ago. Michael’s curiosity had been so piqued by his grandma’s extreme reaction that he had started looking online for information on Richard Bancroft the moment he got back to school. There had to be a reason why his grandma had looked like she’d seen a ghost the moment he mentioned the actor’s name. He wiped his nose and looked around again. “There’s shit all over the place!” He complained to Charlie again. “I will never be able to find a thing here!” “Dude, you gotta stop whining and just, concentrate, okay? This is a very important thing we’re doing here.” “We?” Michael kicked one of the boxes and winced when the old carton didn’t give in. “I don’t see you eating dust and sweating your balls off.” “But you know I am there in spirit.” Michael crouched next to the box that didn’t give in, opened it and gasped when he discovered a small trunk under a musty blanket that was filled with pictures and old documents. “Yesssss! This is what I’m talking about.” He peeked inside and there was no containing his excitement at the sight of a face that could have been his own looking at him from almost every picture. “What? What did you find?” Michael couldn’t answer. He was speechless. Torn between feeling happy over what could only be classified as the most successful treasure hunt adventure of his life and outrage over what his grandma had done. “Dude?”

Michael kept taking things out of the box. He found old notebooks, a few leather-bound journals, two Oscar statues, a Tony Award and a bunch of old letters. “Hey, Mike!” He heard his friend calling, but he didn’t answer. Some of the letters were from a Helen Bancroft. Some others were from Richard Bancroft and the vast majority from a Helen Wallace, all of them addressed to Grandma Elizabeth. “Dude, are you there?” “Yeah… Yeah, I am here…” There were several letters from a Manuel Guzman addressed to Richard Bancroft. He also found an old baseball signed by the Guzman guy and some tickets to the 1966 World Series. There was nothing from Grandpa George Spencer. Not a damn thing. “What’s going on? Why are you so quiet? Did you find anything?” “Hold on a second, Charlie.” “But…” “Hold on!” Michael put the house phone down on the attic’s floor and inspected the letters. Many were addressed to Mary Elizabeth Bancroft and sent to some place in Malibu, California. The ones addressed to Richard Bancroft had been sent to the same place. Next he found a black and white picture of two guys making out on the beach. The leaner one was lying on the sand, his arms resting on his sides; his head on the bigger guy’s lap. That guy was leaning over the smaller one, upside-down. Their eyes were closed, but Michael could have sworn he could see the passion between them. Their lips weren’t quite touching, but the intention was obvious. They were about to kiss when the picture was taken. “Son of a bitch…” “Dude! What the hell is going on? I’m waiting here!” Michael ignored the screaming coming from the phone and turned the picture around. “Florida Keys, Summer of ’64,” he whispered. “Jesus…” “Mike! Get on the phone right now!” This time Michael grabbed the phone. “Yeah… I’m here…” He could not stop staring at the picture. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Charlie yelled. “Why did you leave me hanging like that? Did you find anything? Are you still in the attic?” Michael wasn’t surprised at his friend’s spiel. Charlie always talked a mile a minute when he was nervous or excited. “You need to get out, dude. You’ve been there for like an hour. They’re bound to be back any minute now.” “I need for you to look up a few addresses for me on the Internet. Service here sucks and I can’t use my laptop.” Michael knew Charlie wouldn’t hesitate to do as asked. They had been best friends for years and had each others’ back. Not to mention, Charlie was the only person in the world with whom Michael had shared his suspicions, and he knew the guy would do whatever he could to help Michael discover the truth. “Find out who’s living in those houses as soon as you can, okay?” “You found something. What is it?”

“Letters to a Mary Elizabeth Bancroft from Helen and Richard Bancroft. I’m pretty sure Mary Elizabeth is my grandma. I have something from a Helen Wallace, too. Maybe Helen Bancroft got married. There are also some letters from a Manuel Guzman to Richard. A signed baseball by Guzman and a picture… like a porn picture… Well, not really porn but they’re naked… I think it’s them. One of the guys is definitely Richard… and I’m pretty sure the other guy is Guzman. He looks Latino.” “You found a signed baseball by Manuel Guzman?” Charlie shrieked. “Gold Glove Award winner, three time MVP, hall of famer, got his number retired because he’s so fucking good Manuel Guzman? That Manny Guzman? Do you have any idea how much that ball would sell for?” Leave it to Charlie to not bat an eye at the news that some ball player from the past who seemed to be famous had also been gay. Lord, he loved his friend so much. “Millions, Mike. Millions! I can’t believe your gran-” “Can we discuss this later?” Michael interrupted him. “Grab a pen and paper and write this information down.” Michael disconnected the call the second he was done giving Charlie some instructions. A quick look through some of the documents told him he had all the proof he would ever need, so he didn’t waste time searching for anything else. Instead he put mostly everything back where he had found it, then grabbed a bag and filled it with tangible evidence of what he now knew were years of deceit on Grandma Elizabeth’s part. By the time his family returned home, the bag was safely hidden in Michael’s room and he was lounging on the relatively private rooftop, making his way through page after page of what looked like the not so happy story of a man whose disappearance was one of Hollywood’s biggest mysteries of all time.

* * *

Chapter Two

Mr. Thompson was Michael’s drama club director, and such a huge fan of Richard Bancroft that he didn’t seem to be able to stop talking about him. As a result, it had taken only one afternoon for Michael to learn that the actor had done films, television and Broadway shows; that every single one of his performances was outstanding; that he had been nominated for three Oscars, winning two of them, and that he would have been the world’s biggest legend had he not suddenly disappeared from the limelight after only six successful years in the entertainment business. Nobody knew what had really happened to the guy, but even though decades had passed, there was still speculation and plenty of rumors. Some claimed facial disfigurement as a consequence of a car accident had put an end to Bancroft’s career; some others said it was a torrid affair with the wife of a powerful Hollywood producer what ultimately had forced him to retire. The craziest theory said a producer paid someone to kill him and dispose of the body. But it was all speculation as nothing had ever been documented, and that included Richard’s possible death. But now Michael knew the guy had been bisexual at the very least. He could not wait to find out if Bancroft’s sexuality had played a role in his disappearance and whether his grandma had been involved in it. He decided to read the letters from Manuel to Richard first, and did so in no particular order. There were twelve in total and postmarked from several cities all over the country. And they were extremely brief, too, giving Michael the impression the author wasn’t into writing. There was a note thanking Richard “for coming to the game, too bad we lost”; another one “for the tickets, I really enjoyed the movie” and the one for “giving me the best birthday cake ever. I never had frosting served to me in such a way. Can’t wait to have it again.” Michael giggled when he read that. “Oh, Richard, you naughty boy. Where did you put that frosting, hmm?” And by Manuel’s tone, there was no doubt it had been a rather interesting place. Or should he say pleasurable? Then he realized he was talking about a man that most likely was related to him, and the ick factor put a halt to his curiosity. “Yuck.” Another envelope contained a formal invitation to the final home game of the 1966 World Series in Los Angeles. Michael assumed the tickets he found in the attic had been included with the invitation. It was pretty innocent stuff. Nothing one friend wouldn’t send to another. The next letter, though; that was a completely different story…

June 11, 1965 Dear Richard, The last time we were together you said we needed to slow down. That if we continued to see each other so much and so often both our careers would be in jeopardy. You said that my time

away with the team would help to put a stop to suspicions people might have had. You said we couldn’t really trust anyone outside our small group and that it was in our best interest to not write or call one another for the time being. You said, right before you left, that you needed to think about all this and decide how to proceed. Stupid that I am I believed you meant you were going to try to find a way for us to be together without having to worry about what other people think or say. I thought we’re going to find a way to make things right for us. I’ve been back for a month now and haven’t heard from you. No calls, no letters, no messages of any type. You never replied to mine either. I asked Benjamin every single day what’s going on. I asked if you were busy with a new movie. I asked if you were sick, or maybe out of town, but he never answered. I was so goddamn worried about you that I couldn’t see the meaning of it all. Truth is you took the cowards way out and left me high and dry. And then you made sure to do everything you could to show me you have no desire of seeing me again; to make it clear that you have moved on. And today I found out why. But not through you, as you didn’t have the cojones to be upfront about this and tell me to my face. I know you won’t be happy when you get home and find correspondence from me. You were probably hoping I would be gracious enough to accept all this without a fight. But I am not gracious and I’m not an asshole. I mean, what kind of candyass do you think I am? I wish I could, don’t get me wrong. I am so hacked at you right now I really wish I could tell you to go fuck yourself for what you’ve done to me and be done with you. One second I want to tell you that I’ll be fine and I wish you the best, but then I close my eyes and see that picture of you and her together on the newspaper and want to slug you as hard as I can. To put a goddamn wedding announcement on the news without saying anything to me first was low. How could you do this to me? To us? Why the hell are you doing this? What is it going to take for you to understand this is not the solution? How far are you willing to go in order to hide who you are? Have you been with her? Gone all the way with her? I hope not. You are mine and I told you, I am not sharing you. Not with other men and definitely not with a woman. Marrying Mary won’t change a thing, and you barely know her, Richard. You certainly don’t love her. You love me! And I love you and you are fucking killing me. Breaking my heart into so many pieces I doubt I will ever be able to patch it up. I wish times were different and we were free to be together. I wish people would understand that we are not the mental cases they make our kind out to be, but they don’t and that’s something we have to deal with. Maybe some day in the future men like us will be able to be open about who we love, but I can’t wait that long. I can’t be without you for however long is going to take people to get their heads out of their asses. I’d rather hide with you than lose you forever. I need to see you. This desire I feel for you is consuming me, and I can’t conceal my yearning for you any longer. I need you in my life and you need me in yours and that’s all that matters. People can take their opinions and go to hell. Don’t marry her, Richard. I am begging you. Please don’t marry her. Let’s leave. Me and you, together. We can leave all this behind. Pack some bags and burn rubber out of this town. We can find a way… work things out… we will be discreet, but we’ll be together. We can drive until the road ends; get a pad among strangers that won’t recognize us and be happy forever. Just, don’t marry her. Please, please don’t marry her. Let’s talk about this. Will you meet me so that we can

talk about it? You’ve got to. A week from today at my house should work for you. I know you’re in town. Please. I’ll be waiting for you, seven o’clock. Please. Yours always, Manny

“Holy… shit…” Michael put the letter down and raked his fingers through his blond hair. “Holy… shit!” He got up from his chair and started pacing around the roof, trying to wrap his mind around everything he had just learned. Richard Bancroft had not only been gay, but also in a relationship with Manuel Guzman before he’d gone and married Grandma Elizabeth; and there was no way that this Mary mentioned in the letter was not his grandmother. No frigging way. “Holy fucking shit.” Manuel Guzman had been Latino, and going by what Charlie said, a famous baseball player as well. It didn’t get any more jock than that. Still, he had begged Richard not to get married and just run away with him instead. Michael could only imagine the kind of love he must have felt for Richard, in order to be willing to give up everything for him. And Richard had gotten married anyway. Had he not loved Manuel? Had he been experimenting with the guy? Did he ever make it to that game Manuel had invited him to? Because, that had been after his wedding, right? And why did he disappear after getting married? Had he changed his mind? Michael reached for his backpack and took out the plastic folder he had brought with him from California. It contained everything he had been able to find on Richard Bancroft. There were newspaper articles of his movies, his accomplishments, his wedding and the birth of his son, Richard Lewis Bancroft the Third. Michael even found pictures of him and Manny together at the beach, what seemed to be a concert and a baseball game, but everything was dated prior to 1968. The few news articles that mentioned the wife Michael kept carefully separated from everything else. There wasn’t much information other than her being from New Jersey and twenty years old when she married Richard. But there were also a few pictures. Mary Bancroft had been a very pretty lady. She also happened to look an awful lot like Grandma Elizabeth did in the few pictures Michael had seen of her from when she was young. The first time Michael came across a picture of Mary Bancroft he had been struck stupid, and now that he had found Richard’s stuff in her possession, Michael didn’t have any doubts his grandma had some explaining to do.

* * *

Chapter Three

Michael claimed a stomach virus and skipped dinner that night. Not only could he not face his grandma just yet, he was far too anxious to just sit with the family and pretend everything was okay. He had to figure out what had happened with Richard and was hoping to find the answer in one of the journals the guy had kept. The sooner he started reading, the better.

February 10, 1960 Tonight I was sent to bed without dessert. I think I would have been excused from the table without eating anything at all if I had not waited until dinner was served before sharing my news with my parents. I would have preferred to wait a little longer, but I was running out of time. My parents needed to know that I am not attending college after I graduate from high school in a few months. I knew they would not be happy. They want for me to be a dentist, just like Dad. I was expecting for them to be upset, but not so much. Mother said it was all her fault for taking me and Helen to see Ages of Man on Broadway. She cried so much she almost choked on her tears and my old man pounded me so hard I will probably feel it for a month. They finally sent me to my room. That’s fine, though. I know Helen will bring me a slice of Mom’s delicious apple pie as soon as my parents go to bed. She is the best sister in the world. It makes me sad that they feel disappointed, but this is my life. My dream. Hopefully some day they will understand this is something I have to do. I feel like I was born for it. It feels as if I would die if I don’t get to perform on a stage. And I won’t give in if they insist on sending me to college. I have been saving money. When I turn eighteen, I will score a ride to New York City if I have to. My name is Richard Lewis Bancroft and some day I will be a primo actor. Just like James Dean.

June 9, 1960 I have tried my best to get my parents to understand my passion for film and theater, but they refuse to listen. Night after night I tried to explain it to them, but my unwavering resolve to get them to see things my way got them more upset every day. I have now graduated from high school and they are barely speaking to me. I do not blame them, but I resent their attitude.

July 17, 1960 I had promised myself I would not allow for my parents’ disapproval to stop me from going after what I want, and I did not. Only one week after graduation I packed a suitcase, collected my savings and boarded a train to New York; determination my only traveling companion from my hometown in New Jersey to the City of Dreams. I wish it would have been different… I would have liked to been able to count on them…

October 23, 1960 I thought it would be easier. I had convinced myself I just needed to move to New York and everything else would work itself out. I thought I would be able to start auditioning for roles at once. I was very naïve. I am barely surviving. It would have been much harder had Helen not given me her own savings. She insisted I take the money and keet it for an emergency. Now I am grateful for her foresight. It has taken longer than I thought to find work, and suitable accommodations are costly. I manage to make a coin occasionally helping ladies carry their packages, but it is not enough. It is my sister’s money that has kept me fed now that my own savings have run out. I am starting to get worried… Did I make a mistake by coming here? Maybe I should have waited a little longer… at least until I had saved more money…

November 23, 1960 I am cold. And hungry. I miss Mom’s cooking. Helen says I should come home for Thanksgiving, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. My parents are still mad. They have not answered any of my letters. I am just going to go to bed early. If I am not awake I won’t notice how hungry I am.

December 2, 1960 I finally found work. Steady work. I will be a waiter at a very nice restaurant close to the theater district. The owner said Broadway actors frequently eat at his place. I cannot wait to see them. Maybe I will even get to serve them… and some day, I will have supper with them.

“Seriously, Richard? Seriously?” Michael turned a few pages on the old notebook he was reading and rolled his eyes. “If you liked writing so much you should’ve been an author instead of an actor dude.” He glanced at the other notebooks and journals that were hidden in the closet and groaned. “There’s gotta be hundreds of journal entries there. This is going to take forever!” He put the notebook down and groaned again. He was very tempted to skip a few dozen entries. He already knew Richard had succeeded in becoming an actor, but curiosity won over impatience. Even if it took him all night, Michael would get as familiar as he could with Richard Bancroft.

December 31, 1960 I miss my family so much…

February 19, 1961 I am exhausted. My job as a waiter is not glamorous. I work hard. I work long hours and I don’t get to sleep much. I am not going to bemoan my situation, as working at the restaurant allows me to meet many personalities from the entertainment business. I am also making enough money to pay for my classes at The Actors Studio, and that is exactly what I came all the way to New York for. There will be time to rest soon enough.

May 3, 1961 I got my first paying acting job today. It was through a talent agent who is also a regular costumer at the restaurant that I learned about the auditions for a soda pop commercial and I got it!

September 13, 1961 I have done four different commercials now. My face is known in both television and gazettes. I have also auditioned for twenty different plays and musicals, but I have not been called back. So frustrating… Michael wiped the drool off his cheek and blinked several times, trying to focus on the numbers displayed on his mp3 player dock. 2:51 A.M. He left the journal he was still holding on the bed and headed to the bathroom Last he read, Richard had been doing commercials and getting impatient but there were no juicy details. Nothing as revealing as Manny’s letter had been. No wonder Michael had fallen asleep. It wasn’t that the entries were boring. Unlike Manny, Richard had obviously enjoyed writing in his journal. It was going to be awesome to get to know the man through his most intimate thoughts, but at the moment Michael was more interested in what had happened between him and Grandma Elizabeth than he was in his feelings. He went back to his room and kept on reading.

October 29, 1961 I landed a small part on an off-Broadway play. Finally!

November 25, 1961 I still miss mom’s cooking, but this year’s Thanksgiving was much, much better than last. I was signed by a very prestigious talent agency and invited to a formal dinner party. I have now made some friends… it is not so lonely anymore. No time to feel lonely, between work and acting classes. The work at the restaurant is a thing of the past.

April 6, 1962 Having an agent made all the difference in the world to me. I have now appeared on several television shows and worked in two more plays. I am making money and gaining recognition at what others say is an outstanding speed. I could not disagree more. I wonder if my parents know… wonder if they still think I am a failure for not becoming a dentist. More than anything I would want to know if they still love me.

September 16, 1962 I was offered a lead role in Café Au Lait, a Broadway musical about a white man striking a friendship with a black man who was born on the wrong side of the tracks. My agent does not think it is a good idea for me to take it, but I think I will. I want to take this opportunity and deliver a message of equality to the audience while at the same time doing something I love. There seem to be so much segregation out there… so much judgment…

October 23, 1962 Café Au Lait has been well received by the audiences. The show is a hit, and there is some noise I might be getting nominated for a Tony. Richard Lewis Bancroft, best actor in a musical.

November 29, 1962 Some people are born under a lucky star, and the thunderous sound of applause coming from the audience when the cast of Café Au Lait took its final bow on closing night made me realize I must be one of them. How else could I explain my success and popularity after only two years since leaving home? I am sad that Café Au Lait has closed, but excited about what is coming next for me and my career. There were some Hollywood producers in the audience tonight, and after the curtain fell on the last act they came to my dressing room. They were so impressed with my performance that they have offered me a big part in their next film. Tomorrow they will be meeting with my agent, and if the terms of the contract are mutually agreeable, I will be moving to Los Angeles soon.

I wish I could share my exciting news with my family, but, they still don’t talk to me. Fortunately, Helen does. She writes me letters often and even came to see my plays a few times with her friend Mary Elizabeth. She is still the best sister in the world… my only family, perhaps… I am going to miss her dearly when I leave New York.

Michael almost jumped out of the bed when his phone went off in his shorts pocket. Cell phone service so high in the mountains was crappy at best. He had not been expecting to get any calls, and a quick glance at the screen had him wishing he still didn’t have a signal. He groaned when he saw it was 4:30 A.M. He had fallen asleep again. Michael left the voicemail pick up the call and didn’t bother to listen to the message. He didn’t feel like talking to Paul. The guy had ignored his instructions to not call him on his house phone in California and managed to get him in a whole lot of trouble with his parents as a result. Now Michael was pissed at Paul both for acting like a clingy bitch and for running his mouth about what they had done. He needed to decide how he was going to deal with that situation. School was over and so were things with Paul. He was going to college soon and he had to tell the guy again, in no uncertain terms, that there was no future for them. But not right now. Michael didn’t have the head or the time for anything other than Richard Lewis Bancroft; the role he had played in Grandma Elizabeth’s life and ultimately his own. He grabbed a journal, shuffled through a few pages and continued to read.

February 17, 1963 Upon my arrival in Los Angeles the studio set me up in the apartment that I now call home. Leighton Place is very nice. I particularly like the explosion of color around me. The coral paint on the walls provides warmth, and the climbing roses and bougainvillea give me some privacy from my neighbors. It is nothing like my place in New York. I have been here for a month and I love it, but that will not stop me from moving to Beverly Hills when I can afford to buy one of those mansions. It will be a while, though. Not making that much money yet.

May 5, 1963 Filming movies is nothing like I thought it would be. The magic only happens on screen. The effort it takes to create that magic can be grueling at times. But I am fascinated with the process and being able to learn new ways of bringing my characters to life is quite a rush. Being in the presence of movie stars I have admired for years is a dream come true: working with them, an honor. I treasure everything I have learned from them so far. Still, I miss the theater, as no other experience can compare to having direct interaction with the audience and getting their reaction to your work at once. Can’t wait to do it again… Hopefully soon.

July 26, 1963 I miss seeing Helen. The distance is so great between us it is not easy for her to fly out to see me. We write letters all the time, but it is not the same. I feel lonely here… Always surrounded by people, but somehow apart from them all. The only person outside work I talk to is Francis. He cleans the pool in my apartment complex and takes care of small repairs around the place. We started a conversation once and I guess we have become friends. I wish I had more time to spend with him, though. He has many interesting stories, even though he is only three years older than me. He makes me laugh. I feel good around him.

“Here we go…” Michael straightened up and squinted. His eyes felt gritty and he was getting a headache from trying to stay awake, but he was finally getting somewhere. “Was Francis your first crush, Richard?” He turned the page and skimmed through a few entries. “Come on… I want to know…”

September 20, 1963 There is so much to do I don’t even have time to update my own journal. From now on I will only make new entries when something significant happens… or if I feel overwhelmed by things.

October 17, 1963 I can now add Benjamin Newman to my short list of friends. He is one of my producers in the movie I am currently filming and has taken me under his wing. He says we are kindred spirits; that we are the same. I don’t understand how, as he is almost twenty years my senior. I ask him what makes us so similar, but he doesn’t answer. He only insists we are. He even says there are many other kindred spirits, just like us, and one day he will get a few together and introduce me. I am still confused by what he means, but Benjamin is an excellent man that I will always defer to. It will be a good thing to meet others like him.

“Kindred spirits, huh?” Michael chuckled and turned the page. “Is that what they called gays back then or was Benjamin trying to not freak you out with revelations of your own sexuality? Dude, I really hope you don’t have any graphic details here or I’m gonna puke…”

December 31, 1963 It is almost the end of what has been the busiest year of my life. As I believe that deserves a longer journal entry, I will write a brief summary of what is happening in my life.

I have been working day after day since the moment I landed in Los Angeles. I take acting, singing and dance lessons. I meet new people every day and do my best to not feel overwhelmed by Hollywood’s glamorous and oftentimes over the top lifestyle. Being a boy from a small town in New Jersey, I am afraid it gets to me more than I like to admit. I still feel lonely the vast majority of time. I still miss my Mom’s cooking, but not as much. I have learned to live without their presence. My parents’; not Helen’s. Never Helen’s. Right now I need a hug from my dear sister more than anything else. Instead I will be attending a New Year’s Eve party with perhaps hundreds of strangers and acquaintances. I will be surrounded by alcohol, smokes and sex pots that I am told I can have whenever I want. I am not interested in doing such a thing. Many think I am strange. I am only twenty. They say any other man my age would be taking advantage of what’s so freely offered to me, but I can’t. I find their strong perfume nauseating… their shoulders too narrow… skin too pale… voices too high pitched… I know the women attending the party will be some of the most beautiful in the world, yet I find my body does not react to them. Maybe in the future, once I have established myself as an actor in this town, I will start showing some interest. Right now becoming sexually active is the least of my worries. I need to concentrate on people and events that will help advance my career. This is the only reason why I will attend this party tonight. I wish I could bring Francis with me as my guest, but he is not part of this world I live in. Not to mention, I was expected to bring a lady. I chose to go alone, of course. Fortunately for me, Benjamin will be there. He is hosting this soiree, after all. I hope he can spare some time to be with me. Am I happy here? Absolutely. Do I wish I could just come home after work without having to interact with half the people I do? Every single day. It is a gossip mill here. Everyone knows everybody else’s affairs, and I am a private sort. I don’t want to know what they are up to, and most certainly don’t want them knowing everything I do. I keep to myself as much as I can.

February 14, 1964 Something is happening to me. Whereas before I did not have much interest in sex, now I find that I can’t think of anything else. My body has the most embarrassing, untimely reactions, and I don’t know what to think… what to do. I can’t put a name to this disturbing thing that is happening to me, but I need to learn to control it.

March 21, 1964 My friendship with Francis is over. I invited him over for dinner tonight, as I always do when I can manage the time. It soothes me to be around him. He is different. Not part of the Hollywood world. I never could have imagined how different he really is. He took some… liberties with me tonight. He approached me from behind while I was serving some wine and touched me in a most inappropriate way. And when I pushed him away and demanded an explanation from him, he said he was tired of waiting and it was time we did what

we had wanted to do all this time. And he tried to kiss me. Me! Another man! Men do not kiss other men, do they? I have no words to describe how furious I am. How angry at his actions. To insinuate I have wanted to touch him that way… or to have him touch me… That is not only absurd, but immoral. I asked him to leave. He would not, but I insisted. He is not welcome here anymore. I need to look for a new place to live… March 25, 1964 I am losing my mind. Ever since Francis ruined our friendship I have been thinking about the things he suggested… about the way in which he touched me. I know it is immoral, but it does not feel immoral when I close my eyes at night… What is happening to me?

Michael closed the journal carefully and took a deep breath. He needed a moment after reading that last entry. It had been written forty-eight years ago by a man he never knew, yet he could identify with pretty much every single word. Being away from home, doing whatever was needed in order to achieve certain goals, the lack of interest in girls… not knowing what it meant… He pulled Richard Bancroft’s picture out of his jeans pocket and took a good look at it. The man had been a sharp dresser. He was wearing a dark tux that had been perfectly tailored to fit his tall and lean body. His dark blond hair was slicked back with the help of some pomade, his blue eyes had a mischievous twinkle and his face was flawless. Nothing in his appearance gave the true nature of his sexuality away. At most, he would have been called a metrosexual, Then again, Michael wasn’t sure if that word was used back in the sixties. Michael understood having to hide one’s sexual orientation. It was a very difficult thing being gay in the twenty-first century, so he imagined it must have been hell when Richard was young. After reading Manny’s letter to Richard, Michael knew something had scared the actor enough to push him into getting married. He had wanted to hide his sexuality and sacrificed Manny’s love in the process. That’s how it looked so far, anyway. Obviously, the wife had been a beard. Did she know that she was when she married one of the most handsome and popular actors of all time, or did she come to the realization later on? That would certainly explain the bitterness... but not making up an entirely new life.

* * *

Chapter Four

“Dad, do you think you can drop me off by the lake on your way to the doctor’s office?” Michael yawned at the same time he poured some syrup over his waffles. He was exhausted after staying awake half the night reading and trying to figure out how he was going to approach this subject with his family when the time came. And he knew it would be soon. No way could he sit on something so big. No frigging way. “We are on a tight schedule, Michael,” his father said, not looking up from the book he was reading. “I don’t think we can spare the extra time.” “But it’s on your way to town,” Michael persisted. He had stopped reading the journal entries after the one about Richard trying to control the demands of his body. That was intimate stuff and it felt wrong to be reading them in his grandma’s house, even though she had probably read all the journals at some point. “He already said no, Michael,” his mother said from the kitchen area, where she was preparing more tea. “Besides, must I remind you this is not a vacation? We are here to take your grandmother to her yearly physical appointments and after what transpired right before we left our house, the last thing you deserve is to be entertained.” “What happened before you came here?” Grandma Elizabeth shot him a cautious look. She had been staying away from him since they got to her house the previous day. Michael figured that now that he was all grown and looked so much like Richard, it must be freaking her out to look at him. “Just…kid’s stuff… you know how they are. Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Elizabeth.” It didn’t surprise Michael that his mother chose to keep the events a secret, as she was still trying to deal with the potential embarrassment and humiliation that Michael’s behavior could have caused her. It didn’t make a difference to her that she had found out about said behavior through a very inappropriate phone message to her son from his partner in crime, nor that they were never caught. She still behaved as if he had committed a capital sin and the entire world blamed her for it. “It wasn’t as big a deal as we first thought, Susan,” his father said, still not looking up. “I understand it would have been embarrassing had the boys been discovered, but they weren’t.” Michael put his fork down and looked at his father. When he first listened to Paul’s message on their answering machine and got an earful about all the naughty things they had done with each other, his dad had been as upset as his mom. But apparently he’d had a change of heart at some point during their road trip from Silicon Valley to Lake Tahoe, and that was perfectly fine with Michael. “Just remember to be more careful in the future, son. I understand the urge to… play… but there are better places than the school’s library to do so. Are we clear?” “Yes, sir.” Michael didn’t know what else to say, as this sudden display of support had taken him completely by surprise. The last thing he had expected was for his parents to be cool with his choice of games, especially his choice of partners. Although he had never officially come out to

them, he hadn’t bothered to hide anything either. Michael wasn’t flamboyant, but he was obviously gay. To have his parents not make a big deal out of it was totally awesome. “I think you should drop the boy off by the lake, Richard. I told you this yesterday.” He heard Grandma Elizabeth say. “He was probably bored out of his mind in this house. There’s nothing to do.” Michael took a sip of his orange juice and tried not to snicker at his grandma’s words. She didn’t want him alone in her house. Was probably afraid he’d go treasure hunting again, just like when he was nine. Well, too late to be worrying about that. “He’ll be fine,” his mother said, joining them at the table. “He’s grounded, you understand.” “Can’t he be grounded at the lake?” Grandma Elizabeth insisted. If her efforts weren’t so pathetic, Michael would have laughed. “Don’t worry about me, Grandma. I’m just going to grab a book and go into the woods. Find a nice place to rest and read, you know?” He ate some of his waffles and chewed on it slowly, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, then asked something that made Grandma Elizabeth choke on her coffee. “Dad, how come you never talk about Grandpa George? Being here made me realize I don’t know anything about him.” “I don’t know anything about him either,” his father said, reluctantly looking up from his book. Michael wasn’t surprised to see he was reading R.B. Lewis again. His father taught English Lit at Stanford and could be a snob when it came to reading material, but he was also a huge fan of Lewis’ psychological thrillers. Michael’s mother teased him all the time and said his dad was R.B. Lewis’ biggest groupie. He’d met the author in person when he was about to start college, and somehow had become friends with the older man. They had kept in touch throughout the years, visiting whenever possible and writing and e-mailing one another when it was not. His dad had gotten him into Lewis’ books too, and now the guy was a family friend. His mom adored him; his father did too, and even he’d jumped on the bandwagon at some point. R.B. was smart and funny and pretty rad for an older dude. Not to mention, he always gave him awesome presents. Plus, he wrote the best books like, ever. Michael always had a great time when they brought him along for dinner or golf. Going to the movies with him and his dad whenever one of Lewis’ books was made into a film had become sort of a tradition and one of Michael’s favorite things to do. “You need to read this one,” his dad said to him. “It has to be one of his best. I’ll pass it on to you when I’m done.” “Thanks, Dad,” Michael said. “But can we talk about Grandpa George now?” “He passed away when I was a toddler. I don’t remember him at all,” he glanced at his mother and drank some of his coffee. “Whenever I asked about him, Mom refused to give me any details. She said it was too painful to talk about him.” “But that was years ago,” his mother said. “Aren’t you over it by now, Elizabeth?” “I’ll never be over it,” Grandma Elizabeth grunted, then buried her nose in her cup of tea.

“Dad should know about his father,” Michael persisted, secretly enjoying his grandma’s obvious discomfort. “Was he a scholar too?” “I don’t know.” Richard wiped his mouth with a napkin and turned to look at Grandma Elizabeth. “Was he a scholar, Mom? What did he do for a living? At least you can tell us that much.” “No, he was not,” she said, not looking at anyone in particular. “He was… a doctor. A family doctor. Small practice. Nothing important.” “A doctor?” Repeated his mother. “I think that’s a commendable profession, Elizabeth.” “I agree,” Richard said. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” “He was not around,” Grandma Elizabeth snapped. “What difference would it have made to anyone?” “It makes a difference to me,” Michael said. “I’ve been working on my genealogical tree, and it would be awesome if-” “You are working on what?” Grandma almost yelled. “Why would you do that? What do you care about dead people?” “I think it’s very important to know where we come from, Grandma,” Michael swallowed his waffle and smiled at the old lady. “Don’t you?” “That’s fantastic that you’re working on your genealogical tree, Michael. I am proud of you for taking that initiative,” his mother said, apparently forgetting she was still upset at him for making out with a fellow student at the school library. To say he didn’t come from a warm family would be the understatement of the year. Richard and Susan Spencer were both professors at Stanford University and completely dedicated to their work. As their only child, Michael grew up surrounded by books and adults, and the library had been the only playground he knew for a long time. They weren’t touchy feely but they were loving and supporting and never failed to praise his academic achievements. Michael knew he’d gained about a thousand points with them just by mentioning the genealogy thing. “I think it is all nonsense,” Grandma Elizabeth grumbled. “I don’t,” his father said. “You’ll have to show me what you have so far, son. I am interested in learning about our ancestors.” “I’m still working on one of the branches, but I’ll show you as soon as it is complete.” He smiled at his dad, genuinely pleased that his old man approved, and then turned to his grandma again. “Do you happen to have any pictures of Grandpa George?” “Not a single one,” she said, getting up from her chair. “They were lost in a fire.” “A fire?” Richard asked with a frown. “When did we have a fire?” “Many years ago,” she snapped again. “Can we go now? Let’s just take care of my appointments so that you all can be on your way to California.”

“I’m sorry, Grandma. I didn’t mean to upset you…” Michael got up and kissed her wrinkled cheek, and what do you know, she almost pushed him away. “You’re right. Better get to the doctor so that we can make sure your heart is strong enough to deal with whatever comes your way for a few more years, okay?” He stepped away from her and opened the fridge to get some mayo and cold cuts out. “I’m just going to make a few sandwiches to take with me, if that’s okay with you?” She didn’t answer. Not that he was expecting her to. “You know, if you really want to go to the lake…” Michael smiled at his mother. “That’d be great, mom.” “Go get ready,” she said. “I’ll put a few snacks together for you.” “Thanks!” He smiled again. Who would have thought genealogy would be the road to forgiveness? “I’ll be good to go in five minutes.”

* * *

April 2, 1964 I asked Benjamin to help me find a new apartment. He wanted to know why. I could not tell him, so I said Francis has been taking some liberties and has become an annoyance. It is unbearable to be around him, and that was the honest truth. Benjamin asked the strangest question. He wanted to know if Francis is a kindred spirit. I did not answer. I did not think I had to, as Benjamin had this look in his eyes… it was a knowing look… He did not explain. He just smiled and hugged me. He also touched my face in a rather… tender way… It felt good. I needed a friend, and it felt good to lean on him, even though he is a smaller man than me. I did not let it last long, though. I have come to realize I can’t trust my body these days. I still do not understand about the kindred spirits he keeps talking about and I told Benjamin as much. He smiled again. Said one thing is not knowing and the other ignoring it. Then he said he will help me find new suitable accommodations, and invited me to his vacation home in Florida. He says it is time I take some time off and face certain things. I accepted. I need to know.

April 15, 1964 I think I know, what kindred spirits means… I think I know…

April 28, 1964 Fourteen months after moving to Los Angeles, I am back in New York. As predicted by many, I was nominated for a Tony Award. I feel honored by the recognition, but also extremely nervous. Not only because the ceremony is taking place tonight, but because for the first time in almost four years I will be seeing my parents. I have mixed feelings about this reunion. A long time ago Helen promised me she would work on changing their position. She said it was only a matter of time until they realized I have a right to follow my own dreams. Considering they will be my guests for tonight’s ceremony, I have to assume my nomination for a Tony was more effective than anything Helen could have said. Is it terrible of me to admit that I wish I didn’t have to see them tonight? That having a normal conversation with them is something I prayed for many a night, but I now dread? Four years ago I was a boy. I had no experience in life nor had I been exposed to the different ways of the world. I am not the same man I was when I left home, and I am not entirely sure I want to risk them noticing the changes. For this reason alone I wish they would have stayed away. Even more than my parents, I am afraid of seeing Helen. As close as I am with her, there are things about me that not even she knows. They are new things… complicated things… aspects of my personality I do not fully understand yet but at the same time are undeniable… I doubt I will ever be able to tell her about it, but fear she will see it regardless of how well I can hide it. As much as I have missed her, I must confess I would rather not see her again; not hug her again, if my sacrifice would guarantee me a lifetime of letters from her. But they are coming tonight and I must prepare myself for all possibilities. I just have to remember that, no matter what, the show must go on.

April 29, 1964 I won! I won a Tony for Best Actor in a musical! Tonight Benjamin is taking us out to celebrate. Helen is coming back to New York and she’s bringing her best friend Mary Elizabeth with her, and we are all going to a nightclub to dance the night away. My parents are not coming, even though we have left our differences in the past since last night. I have never met this friend of Helen’s. I’m not particularly interested in meeting her either, but I am happy she is making the trip with my sister. That way she won’t have to be by herself on the train.

June 20, 1964 I can hardly contain my excitement today. For the first time since moving to Los Angeles, Helen is coming for a visit. Things are fine between us, as I have been able to conceal my inner thoughts and desires from her and everybody else, but Benjamin suggested I included Mary Elizabeth in the invitation. He says it is good for men like us to be seen with women as often as possible.

As Benjamin is a great friend that never misleads me, I took his advice. I do hope he is available to provide some entertainment for Helen’s friend. I just want to spend time with my sister. August 12, 1964 I am officially on vacation for the next two weeks. Benjamin has a place in the Florida Keys. The house is beautiful and the surroundings a tropical paradise. It can only be accessed by boat, which makes it completely private. I have only been here for two hours and already love it. I must ask Benjamin how much does a personal island cost. I would spend every cent I ever made just to have the luxury of total privacy.

August 14, 1964 In total Benjamin invited twenty people to the island. The majority has arrived, but I am told there are some others that will be here by the end of the week. All the guests are men. I was not expecting this, and I am livid at Benjamin for not letting me know what the purpose of this vacation was. I understand he only wants to show me there are many like us, but he did not have to ambush me this way. I really was looking forward to some rest and relaxation… I really was…

August 17, 1964 I cannot deal with this. There are too many men around wanting to show me how kindred our spirits can be, and I’m not interested. The communal loving is not for me. My affairs will be conducted in private and that only if I ever decide to conduct them. It is going to take more than physical need to get me to indulge in things I have only experienced in my dreams so far. It won’t happen in a room full of men, no matter how similar we are.

August 19, 1964 I found a perfect spot where I can bathe in the sun and enjoy the serenity of the ocean. It is located on the east side of the island; fifteen minute walk away from the main house. Not too bad, but far enough to discourage the others from venturing this way. I finally get to be by myself.

Michael put the journal down and reached for his cell phone. Service by the lake was way better than it was at his grandma’s house, and he needed to talk to his best friend immediately. It was imperative he knew whether Charlie had been able to locate Richard’s sister or not. Michael knew she’d have the answers he needed, and if in order to locate her he had to hire a detective, he would. He was sure his friend would be able to lend him some money to pay for one. “Where the hell have you been?” Charlie asked the second he answered his phone. “I tried to call you last night like a thousand times, dude.” “I told you the service is crappy up there. I never got any calls.” “I tried the house phone too. Nobody ever answered.” “Grandma doesn’t accept phone calls after six,” Michael explained. “She turns the handset’s volume down so that it doesn’t disrupt her in case someone calls.” “That’s some weird senior citizen peeve, man.” “It’s what it is,” he said with a shrug. “Were you able to find out anything on those addresses I gave you? Do you know who lives in the houses?” “Of course I did! Don’t I always have your back?” “Hit me with it,” Michael said, managing to sound a lot calmer than he really was. “Right… Okay... The house in Malibu belongs to some famous plastic surgeon,” Charlie said. “He gives rich women fake noses and titties. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out my own mother is one of his patients cause, she probably is. I mean, did you notice her chest on graduation day? Way bigger than it was when-” “Why would I notice your mother’s chest?” Michael snapped. He was too tense to be able to deal with Charlie’s rambling humor. “Because it is ginormous?” The guy went on. “How could you not notice? I mean, unless you’re blind-” “Or gay?” Michael rubbed his forehead. “Dude, you’re talking about the size of your mom’s chest. There’s something definitely wrong with you.” “There are many things wrong with me, but you already knew that.” Charlie admitted with a laugh. “Hope mom doesn’t decide to get a new ass, too. Looks like I’m going to need some of her doctor’s money for therapy in the near future.” “Whatever.” He took a deep breath, annoyed with his friend but incapable of getting mad at him. “Richard Bancroft owned the house for a few years, then sold it to a guy named Benjamin Newman in 1971. Newman then sold it to somebody else in the late eighties, and that somebody sold it to the surgeon. I wasn’t able to find any other properties under Bancroft’s name in California.” “What about the other address in New Jersey?” Michael whispered.

“Mr. and Mrs. Wallace still own the house.” His friend sounded as excited as Michael felt by the news. “I Googled the place, dude. It’s located about three hundred miles north of Worthington Academy. How’s that for a coincidence? We could have visited her two years ago.” “That’s fantastic news, Charlie!” Michael got up from his beach chair and started pacing around. If the Wallaces owned the house, that had to mean Helen was still alive. “It gets better.” “How so?” “I have a phone number for you. Got pen and paper?” Michael called Helen Bancroft-Wallace two seconds after he finished talking to his best friend.

August 20, 1964 If I could skip dinner I would, but I can’t be rude to my host. Every night I show up and make sure I do not encourage those that find it difficult to take no for an answer. I look around the table without making eye contact with any of the men. The ones who have tried to get inside my bedroom I don’t address at all. I can’t have them misinterpreting my courtesy for interest on my part. Being the youngest and most inexperienced among Benjamin’s guests, I am always more of a listener to the conversations taking place than I am an active participant. The others are between thirty and sixty years old, and have no qualms talking about their adventures with other men. I find myself both in awe and appalled by the way in which they live. They should not be married. I know they need to deflect the attention from what they are, and that their wives are none the wiser, but they should not be married and lying to their loved ones in such a way. We should not have to lie about who we are. I do not want to lie.

Michael shook his head and closed the journal carefully after reading its last entry. “Looks like you didn’t want to be in the closet, man,” he whispered, taking another journal out of his back pack. He had sorted them out the previous night so that they were in order. “So what happened? Why did you marry her?”

August 21, 1964 One more guest arrived today; just in time for supper. That he is not an actor, producer or business man is obvious from his manners and physique. He is taller than the rest of us. Stronger. His shoulders are wide enough to carry the weight of the world. His legs are long; his arms powerful. He looks like he can either squeeze the breath out of a person from one hug

alone or make them feel protected. His hair is the color of midnight, and so are his eyes. I never saw darker eyes than his… or more luscious lips. He reminds me of my favorite treat. His lips are plump as an apple, and his skin the color of the caramel I very much love to lick. I have met Latinos before, but none that can compare, or even come close to him in looks and charm. When I first saw him my body temperature elevated so much I felt feverish. In a matter of seconds I went from feeling cool and collected to dizzy and weak. He said hello and the muscles in my stomach cramped… and lower… down there… I ached… That was not normal, and because I had been out on the sun so much, I thought I was suffering from heat stroke. His midnight eyes sought out mine and I could not breathe. I was not sweating, but I could feel my skin was flushed… probably red. He looked away and I felt confused… lost... He talked to some of the other men and I felt agitated. Then he got closer and my pulse got faster. He smiled at me and I felt disoriented… I could not remember where I was. By the time he shook my hand I was hallucinating… images of him picking me up and carrying me up the staircase would not leave me alone. And when he released my hand and turned to greet the next man all I wanted was to drag him out of the dining room and hide him somewhere safe… somewhere those sexual vultures could not get to him. It was the strangest behavior I have exhibited in my entire life. I thought about excusing myself, but I did not. Even though I had just met him, something inside me balked at the idea of being away from him, so I stayed. I dealt with my drumming heartbeat and pretended it did not skip a beat every time he glanced my way, and somehow I worked up enough nerve to ask him to sit next to me. He did. He talked to me; smiled at me… He asked if he could keep me company tomorrow and I said yes. Absolutely. A thousand times yes. A timid smile passed between us. A veiled but intense look… A brush of his fingers against mine under the table… That’s when I realized it was not the Florida sun that had so unexpectedly hit me, but a marvelous Cuban man who now has me under his spell. His name is Manuel Guzman and I cannot wait to see him tomorrow.

“So it was love at first sight for you, wasn’t it, Richard?” Michael blinked a few times. “One look at the hot Latino and you were a goner.” Michael turned the page, and quickly turned it again when he realized what he was reading. The next several entries were all about Richard and Manuel and their time in Benjamin’s private island. He didn’t read them. Even though he was dying to know, that shit was private. It belonged to Richard and Manny and it was bad enough that his grandma had most likely read it. Michael refused to do the same. It felt as if he’d be violating something sacred, and he promised to skip everything that had sexual content.

He put the journal down and reached for his cell phone one more time. Getting in touch with Richard’s sister was turning out to be as difficult as getting into his grandma’s damn attic. For starters, Helen didn’t live in the New Jersey house anymore, and although her son did, he didn’t believe Michael was who he said he was when he first identified himself. The guy had hung up on Michael and ignored him every single time he’d called after that. His lousy disposition didn’t stop Michael from continuing to try. He dialed again and again. He left his name and phone number. He explained who his grandmother was and why it was so important he spoke with Helen. Why couldn’t that asshole understand that? He sighed when the phone kept on ringing, and was ready to leave yet another message when Helen’s son answered. Apparently he was done doubting Michael’s words. The conversation went fine, and one hour and five phone calls later, Michael finally started getting answers to the questions that had bothered him for way too long.

August 23, 1964 After five incredible days and nights together the time came for Manny to return home. He is a baseball player with a very rigid schedule, and although he wanted to, it was impossible for him to stay longer than the five days he had originally planned for. It was hard to watch him go, but knowing we’ll be seeing each other soon makes the distance tolerable. Fortunately for us, he plays for a team in Los Angeles; very close to my home. There are no words that can properly express what I’m feeling right now. All I can say is that my mind has been captivated; my heart claimed and my body awakened by a man that is strong, handsome and has a soul as pure as snow. Benjamin assures this happens all the time. Two strangers will meet while vacationing in some tropical beach, have a torrid affair and believe they want more, but eventually sanity will return and the strangers will move on. I hope he’s wrong. This doesn’t feel like a fling to me, and I certainly want to be more than a summer vacation affair to Manny. I hope Benjamin is wrong… Tonight I’ll pray that he is…

* * *

Chapter Five

By the time Michael got picked up from the lake he was so furious at his grandmother he couldn’t even talk. Sitting next to her in the back seat of his father’s car was torture, and it had taken a good amount of control he didn’t even know he had to keep his mouth shut. Looking out the window helped, but he was aware of the suspicious looks she kept throwing his way. It was as if she knew he knew. As if, somehow, she had managed to figure out what he’d been up to. Then again, maybe she was just being paranoid. Hard for someone not to read too much into everything when they were keeping so many secrets, right? She would not be wondering for long, though. Michael didn’t feel like saying anything just yet, but he damn well was working on a hell of a surprise for her. Dinner time couldn’t come soon enough.

October 7, 1964 I went to see Manny play today. As usual, his performance was outstanding. They say he is one of the greatest players to ever grace the right field. That the way in which he hits the ball is unique, and to see him run at full speed around the bases is the thrill of a lifetime. I do not know much about baseball, but most definitely agree with the fans. And it thrills me to no end to hear the crowd cheer for him while he moves so gracefully on the field. I saw him look my way several times. It is not always possible for me to come say Hello every time I get to go watch a game, but he always knows I am there. He always looks for me. I know because we have a secret code: a quick brush of his shoulder against his left cheek and a twirl of his hair around his finger. That is the signal he uses to let me know he has seen me. How I wish things were different for us. How I wish we did not have to hide; to plan days in advance just so that we can be together for a few hours. To come up with excuses to be together or to have to explain our friendship to the world, as they do not understand how an actor and a Latino baseball player can be friends. We have nothing in common, they say. We are as different as the sun and the moon. They could not be more wrong. Manny and I have everything in common, as we have discovered through the numerous letters and phone calls we have exchanged since we parted ways in Florida. We both like to read. We both like the theater. He likes to cook and I love to eat new things… the list goes on and on. We both want to travel the world and eventually settle down somewhere private. We want to be together forever. I shared my feelings with Benjamin. I had to tell someone or I would have exploded. He called me a fool. Said only someone as inexperienced as I am would think lust is the same as love and that it will pass in a few weeks. I let him laugh. I know how I feel. I don’t need to be as versed as

he is in sexuality and relationships to know it is not lust that keeps me awake every night wishing I could be in Manny’s arms. It is not lust that makes me feel like I have lost a limb only because we are apart. And this pain in my heart whenever I think about the hundred different things that could tear us apart? That’s not lust… That is something else… something bigger and powerful and very much lasting. Our jobs are demanding and we travel all over the place, yet we have managed to keep in touch and be together ten times. Ten wonderful, breathtaking, delightful and satisfying times. Sadly, it was not possible tonight. Perhaps next week… Please, lord… let it be next week…

November 20, 1964 Three days at my parents’ house and I’m ready to take my own life. Things in Los Angeles have been out of control for a while. I am famous now. My face is on television and the big screen, and my name on the marquees of every city. The audience recognizes and praises my hard work. They identify with the characters I have played and constantly demand more. I receive so many scripts and offers from directors and producers that I cannot keep up with them anymore. I now have an assistant and a small group of people to help take care of every detail of my career… and life. As a result, I have no privacy. Helen insisted I came home. She is now engaged and wanted me to meet her fiancé. Although I’m happy for her and it has been years since I had a holiday with my family. I almost declined. I miss them all very much, especially Helen, but I fear they will be able to discover the truth behind my close friendship with Manuel Guzman. The entire world knows about it. For some reason, the press does not stop commenting on it. But Manny is visiting what he calls his big rambunctious family in Miami. He loves them and they love him and I am happy they are very supportive of him, but I worry out of my mind when he is with his mother. Manny is twenty-four years old. At that age, Cuban men are already married and raising kids. So far he has been able to use his work as an excuse not to make that kind of commitment, but that does not stop his mother from introducing him to every Carmen, Teresa and Maria living in their neighborhood when Manny goes home. Her goal is to see him married by the time he turns twenty-five, and I cannot deal with that. I despair thinking she might be able to convince him. At the end I decided to get over my irrational fears and come home. I am an actor. I can pretend everything is normal for as long as I have to. Have I not been doing the same in Los Angeles for months? I needed to escape for a few days and visiting my family was the perfect solution. They would be able to distract me from thoughts of Manny surrounded by women I did not know but hated all the same. Mom and dad still live in the same small town where I grew up, so I expected peace and solitude. A total change from the hectic and superficial climate that is so characteristic of Los Angeles. Instead I got the entire town stopping by to say hello and ask for an autograph. My parents did not stop them. Guess they are not upset I did not become a dentist anymore.

I also got questioned about my friendship with Manny. The family reads the magazines and newspapers. They are worried about the rumors. They say it is not good for me if people start believing I am like some of those other actors that secretly crave men. I told them Manny is a good friend and refused to discuss the matter. I cannot deal with their scrutiny of my private affairs. And there is Mary Elizabeth. She is still my little sister’s best friend and I am almost sure she lives in this house as well, because for three days I have not been able to go to the restroom without bumping into her. She follows me around. She wants to talk. She tried to kiss me! Twice! She flirts and my parents encourage her. Apparently, they want for me to start dating her because she is an excellent girl from a good family and would take care of me. Mary Elizabeth Spencer is the reason why I am hiding in my old bedroom at three o’clock in the afternoon. God, I want to go back home. I want to see my Manny.

“Mary Elizabeth Spencer,” Michael whispered. “That explains our last name. It was Grandma’s maiden name. I’m going to have to look into that. See if there’s any of her family around.” He took a deep breath. “Shit, Richard. How could this be? You’re all jealous and shit of the women wanting to get with Manny… worried about him getting with any of them, and at the end it was you who bailed on the poor guy and married a woman you didn’t even like.” Michael turned a few pages and sighed. It was already four o’clock. He wanted to have as many facts as possible before dinner, but he couldn’t take the time to read every single word Richard had written. He skimmed through a few journal entries and smiled when he read Richard had finally purchased his dream house in Malibu and how much he liked to look at the ocean because it reminded him of his Manny. They’d had an honest to God relationship. Somehow they managed to go to the movies together. They went out to dinner a few times and visited museums. They even went to see Elvis and The Beatles together. Richard had seen The Beatles in concert. Live. Lucky bastard. Life had been good to the man. He was young and all kinds of handsome. He had money, fame and love. He should’ve been happy, but Michael could tell, even when Richard didn’t write about it, that he wasn’t. Hiding was getting to him. He went back and forth between wanting to be out as a gay man and wanting to hide who he was; between wanting Manny to be out with him and resenting his man whenever Manny suggested they left everything behind and became hippies. There was pressure on both of them, too. From their families, producers, coaches and friends. They all kept asking when they were planning on marrying nice girls and starting families. At times Richard thought he never would, but some other times he wrote it would be a good idea. Michael wondered if Manny had been aware of Richard’s doubts before he got news of his man’s impending wedding.

Probably not.

March 7, 1965 After three weeks apart, I am finally on my way to see Manny. Thanks to Benjamin’s generosity we will get to be together for quite some time, as my good friend is letting us stay at his Florida house. Ten days in a private paradise; surrounded by the same bright sun, white sand and blue ocean that months ago witnessed the beginning of what I hope will be the rest of my life. No maids; no cooks; no help in any way. We will have to fend for ourselves, but we will be completely alone. I cannot wait to get there. Although Manny is flying out of Los Angeles it was impossible for us to be on the same plane. Benjamin said it would be a fool’s move to let others know of our intentions. I had to agree. Manny was not as easily convinced. He wants to scream at the top of his lungs that I am his and he is mine. He wants for the entire world to know we are together and is ready to bat a few heads off if anyone dare say to his face that this is wrong. It took me hours but he finally agreed to say he is going to see some of his family in Miami and I just told a few people I am going to New Jersey. I loathe the secrets and the lies, but understand there are no other options for men like us. When I first realized the true nature of my sexuality I decided I wanted to be open about it. I really thought I could be. I did not want to pretend to be in a relationship with some random woman just to keep people from gossiping. I thought I could just be with the one person I love more than anything in the world, society be damned. I was utterly naïve. Benjamin might call us kindred spirits, but we are gay. It scares me a little, to write down what I am. I have been in a clandestine relationship with another man for months. I have done things many consider perverted or degrading and could get us either committed or arrested. I have risked being discovered many times, just so that I can have one kiss from the man I love… I know who I am and what I want and do not regret anything I have done so far, still it scares me to write it down. It makes the reality of people in our position all too real. There are some courageous souls that have gotten together with the same purpose. They have formed organizations to fight for civil rights and against the homophobia that is rampant in this world, but they are not making much progress. Not only is homosexuality still taboo, but classified as a psychiatric disorder as well. There is no tolerance for people like us. And so I rather hide and patiently wait for the rare opportunities when Manny and I can be together for more than a few hours at a time.

April 24, 1965 I had dinner with Benjamin tonight. The director was not present, but we discussed my new movie that I just started filming. Benjamin is the producer and he likes to have his hand in everything. We also discussed a story I have been writing in my spare time. He says it is very

good, and maybe we can do something with it. I never considered writing until a few months ago. My dream was to be an actor, but now that I have accomplished that goal I find that I need a new challenge. An idea crossed my mind and before I knew it I was bringing it to life. Turns out I enjoy writing immensely. Benjamin says it could be an excellent project for television. I wouldn’t be opposed to that. The second part of our conversation I didn’t enjoy. It was my close friendship with Benjamin that stopped me from leaving the restaurant the moment he started on my relationship with Manny yet again. As much of a kindred spirit as Benjamin is; as much as he indulges in his desires and carnal pleasure, the truth is he will never be honest about it. He’s terrified of being found out, which is why he has as many women as he has men, and that in addition to his marriage. Now he’s terrified on my behalf. He said that gossip is spreading and rumors are getting louder. He told me I’m being careless. That I am letting the world see my affections are not normal by not dating women and spending too much time with Manny. He said people are wondering why I have been parading all over Hollywood with him instead of some pretty girl. I was furious. I let him know, in no uncertain terms, that there is nothing abnormal about the way I feel for Manny. That our relationship is as good as any other couple’s in this town. Better, even, because our love is real. Benjamin said he has no doubts of that. He knows we are the real thing, but reminded me the world is not ready to see men together; to accept that I want a husband instead of a wife. He says my days in Hollywood will be over if people find out. I said I don’t really care. I’ill take Manny over acting any day. That’s when Benjamin asked if I care about Manny’s career and what will happen to him if the men he is in such close quarters with ever find out what he is. He asked me whether or not I care if Manny gets beaten to a pulp. He says being an actor I would probably get more kindness and compassion from the people in my life, but the men Manny is surrounded by will never show him any kindness. He’ll get thrown off his team and he’ll have to face hundreds of enraged fans. He told me Manny could get killed by a mob like that. Benjamin says both Manny and I are the best at what we do and have brilliant careers ahead of us. He said I need to think about that the next time I decide to be out in public with Manny. He says I should seriously consider dating a girl. I could not date a girl. I belong to Manny… I belong to him…

“Michael?” The soft knock on his bedroom door had him hiding the journal under the pillow and scrambling out of bed within two seconds of hearing it. “Yeah, Dad,” he opened the door and looked at his father. “What’s up?” “Charlie’s on the phone.” “Thanks,” he took the handset from his father and shifted from one foot to the other. “Dad, listen… there’s something I have to do.”

“What is it?” “I know I’m grounded but… See, I have to leave here sooner than we thought.” “Leave to go where?” his father asked. “You know we have two more days of medical appointments before we can go back to California.” “I wasn’t planning on leaving with you guys,” Michael chewed on his lower lip and held his father’s gaze. “It’s important, Dad.” “What is this about?” “I’ll tell you later. For now, I just need for you to promise you’ll back me up if Mom refuses to let me do this.” His father took a deep breath. “I don’t know, Michael. I can’t agree to let you do something I don’t know the first thing about. Where are you going? With who?” “Dad, please,” Michael begged. “I can assure you, this is the most important thing I’ve done in my life. I need you to stand up to Mom and let me leave the house if she says I can’t.” “You need to explain to me what’s going on.” “Tonight,” Michael promised. “I’ll explain it all tonight, okay?” “Okay,” his father shook his head, patted him on the shoulder and left the room. “Charlie?” Michael said on the phone, closing the door and going back to bed. “Did you find me a flight?”

May 19, 1965 I knew something was wrong the moment I saw Manny tonight. His usually sparkling midnight eyes were serious and dull, and his luscious lips were pinched. He did not answer when I asked if something had happened. He just kissed me out of words and air and took me to his bed. Things there were different too. Manny has always been a very passionate lover, but tonight his embrace was more intense, his kisses hungrier; and when he took me I felt him deeper than ever before. I felt consumed by him in the most wonderful way. But I knew something was wrong. Between the two of us, Manny is the quiet one. He talks through his actions, often leaving the words for me to express. For the most part I do not have a problem with that. I have gotten to know him so well I have but to look at him in the eyes in order to find out what he wants. What he is thinking. And he never had a problem letting me look to my heart’s content. Tonight he was hiding from me, so I had to ask. He was stubborn, but I kept asking until he had no choice to either answer me or throw me out, as I almost drove him crazy. I listened carefully while he told me about a conversation he had with another player a few days ago. I made sure the consternation that took a hold of my heart when he told me this player was

not inviting him to his wedding reception was not reflected on my face. I took a deep breath and rubbed his shoulders while he told me the reason why he was not invited. I swallowed the fear that felt like a lump in my throat when Manny said that this player did not want any friends of a queer tainting the occasion. I smiled and kissed him in gratitude when he said he would gladly kill that pendejo for daring to insult me. Such a knight in shining armor, my Manny is. And while he ranted in Spanish I stopped being his Richard and got ready to give the best performance of my life. I told him everything will be fine. I told him to let it go; that being called queer did not offend me. I said I’m sorry that he was left out, but I did not tell him I am scared for him and that I fear he can be physically harmed. I did not tell him about my conversation with Benjamin and how real his words had just become for me. I just kissed him until he forgot about everything and made love to me again. And at the end of the night, when it was time to part ways, I managed to convince him that it was a good idea to put some distance between us right now. I told him I do not want to put my career in jeopardy or see him do the same. He did not want to, but he agreed to give me some time while he is away with his team. I don’t know how I’m going to survive without hearing from him, but I’m happy he will be safe.

May 27, 1965 My little sister has always been my best friend. She is two years younger, but she assures me she’s thirty years wiser than me. Apparently being a woman gives her the advantage. I tend to disagree. I’ve been out in the world. Seen and done things she probably does not have the first idea about, but now that I need to make a decision that will change both mine and Manny’s lives, I realize I need her advice. I am flying home today. I’m talking to my sister and confessing everything to her. I’m going to tell her what I want and what I need. I’m going to tell her I am in love with a wonderful man and that I hope to spend the rest of my life with him. Helen loves me. She’s always been supportive of me. I know what I’m about to tell her won’t be easy to understand or accept, but I’m hoping her love for me is stronger than any prejudice she might have. Men like Manny and I are different, but we deserve to be loved and accepted at least by our families, right? If they don’t, then what hope is there for us?

May 28, 1965 There was a brawl between several baseball players after a game a few days ago, but we only saw it in the newscast tonight. The news men couldn’t tell what started it. Apparently the individuals involved refused to tell Manny was involved. He’s never been involved in a brawl before. He is a very nice man, loved and admired by the entire country. Hispanics think of him as a hero… He could have been hurt.

I got so scared for him… I cried. Helen held me. She still loves me. She says she will always love her big brother, no matter what. Now she’s scared for me, too… but not as scared as I am for my Manny…

June 1, 1965 I’m taking Mary Elizabeth out to dinner tonight.

June 5, 1965 I read there was another brawl between some players. Manny was involved in that one too. God, please, let him be fine… Let him be fine…

June 22, 1965 I received a letter from Manny. I must have read it at least a thousand times. I did not go to Manny’s house tonight. He asked me to, but I didn’t go. He probably hates me now… He called me a coward. He’s probably right… This is the hardest thing I have done in my life. It hurts so fucking much…

* * *

Chapter Six

Michael divided what he now referred to as his treasure into two different groups. In the first group he put some of the letters that Grandma Elizabeth had received from Richard and Helen, several pictures of Richard and Mary Elizabeth with their baby, a few legal documents and the notebooks and journals that Richard wrote immediately after leaving home. The journals containing entries from the moment he had met Manny to the day he disappeared Michael put in his duffle bag along with some letters, pictures, the two Oscars and the Tony Award. He secured everything and added a few teachers to make sure nothing would get damaged. Next he grabbed his folder with all the research he had done on Bancroft prior to coming to his grandma’s house, the DVD from the school’s revival of Café Au Lait, his laptop and headed out to the dining room. It was showtime.

* * *

“Michael, can you please stop playing with the computer and come to the table?” his mother put the casserole down and took a seat next to her husband. “One second, Mom,” Michael inserted the DVD and waited for it to load. “I just need to set this up really quick.” “What is it?” Grandma Elizabeth asked, frowning at the laptop screen when the first image came up. “What are you doing?” his father asked. “You know we don’t watch television while we’re having dinner.” That comment almost made Michael smile. He wasn’t allowed to watch T.V. while eating but it was perfectly fine if he wanted to bury his nose in some book. “I know T.V. is not allowed, but I thought we could make an exception tonight,” he said, turning his laptop a little so that his grandma had a perfect view of the screen. “This is a musical I was in, Grandma. I wanted for you to see it before we go back home. It came out pretty good, considering we’re all amateurs.” “A musical?” she whispered, her eyes fixed on the screen. “Yeah,” Michael took a seat next to his father and smiled at his grandma, even though she wasn’t looking at him. “I mentioned it to you last time you were in Cali, remember? I got the lead. I nailed it, too, if I say so myself.” “I have to agree Michael was excellent in it,” his mother said. “And his drama club director was right: he looked exactly like that actor from years ago.”

“But… I thought we all agreed on not letting you be in that thing,” Grandma Elizabeth put her fork down and turned to look at her son. “Didn’t we agree, Richard? I told you it wasn’t a good idea.” “I remember you being against Michael participating in the musical, yes, but I never agreed to anything,” his father said, and it was clear he was taken aback by Grandma Elizabeth’s reaction. Obviously he had forgotten her actions from the previous time they had discussed this. “But theater is evil,” she said. “And all actors are perverted.” “Come on, Elizabeth,” his mother said. “Don’t you think that’s a little extreme? Besides, Michael is not an actor. It was something he did for fun. Granted musicals can be a little trivial, but he was keeping excellent grades. We didn’t see anything wrong with letting him be part of the drama club if that’s what he wanted.” She put some of the casserole in her plate and frowned when she noticed how pale Grandma Elizabeth was. “Come on, Grandma,” Michael said, proud of himself for being able to keep his cool. “The musical was great and I was very good as Bernard Collins.” He pulled his laptop closer to his grandmother. “Why don’t you look at it?” “I don’t think your grandmother is interested in watching a musical, Michael,” his father said. “But why not?” Michael asked. “It’s not like she hasn’t seen it before.” “I don’t understand your reluctance,” his mother said. “There are far worse things than musicals, Elizabeth.” “I agree,” Michael said. “Far worse… like … getting caught making out with my boyfriend in the school’s library. That could’ve been way worse.” “What makes you think your grandma has seen Café Au Lait before?” his father asked at the same time his mother put her glass down on the table hard enough to spill water all over the place. “Michael Richard Spencer, shut your mouth right now!” she yelled at him. “I can’t believe you just said that! I am so mortified.” “Grandma went to see Café Au Lait when it first opened in Broadway,” Michael answered his father’s question and completely ignored his mother. “Is it true, Grandma? Do I really look that much like Richard Bancroft?” “What… what do you mean you got caught making out with your boyfriend?” His grandma’s eyes had opened to the size of saucers. “What do you mean?” “He did not get caught,” his mother said. “I would’ve killed him if he had.” “How do you know Mom went to see that musical?” his father asked. “You meant to say with your girlfriend, right?” Grandma Elizabeth said, his eyes darting from Michael to his father to the laptop screen where the opening musical number of Café Au Lait was playing and back to Michael again.

“I meant boyfriend,” Michael confirmed, a crooked smile forming on his lips. “I’d never make out with a girl. They have cooties.” “Michael, what is wrong with you?” his mother glared at him. “You’ve been acting so out of character for the past two days. You’ve been hiding in your room, and you were awfully quit on our way home this afternoon,” she said. Then to his utter surprise put her hand on his forearm and squeezed it lightly. “Does this have anything to do with… you know… that school situation?” “Not at all,” Michael said. “Do you miss the boy?” “What? Mom, no! Seriously! “You are still grounded, you know, but if you need to talk to him or something…” “That was just me playing around Mom. I don’t miss him or anything. I’m fine,” Michael smiled at his mother. She sounded genuinely concerned. “I just have some shit on my mind, you know?” “I thought you were born and raised in Seattle, Mom,” his father said. “When did you go to New York?” “Language, Michael!” his mother said. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Grandma Elizabeth asked Michael, not paying attention to her own son. “If you think I’m saying I like boys, then yes, you are,” Michael rushed to say, more than happy to bug the shit out of his grandma. “That’s it!” His mother slapped him on the shoulder. Hard. “What has gotten into you?” “What?” he asked all innocent.” What did I do? It isn’t as if my gayness is a secret.” “There were better ways to let your grandmother know,” his mom said. “You can’t like boys,” his grandma said. “But I do. A lot,” he said with a smile that he was sure didn’t reach his eyes. “Must be genetic, right?” “Genetic?” his father said. “What in the world are you talking about?” “And you never answered my question, Grandma,” Michael continued. “Do I really look like Richard or not?” “You didn’t answer me either,” his dad said. “When did you go to New York City?” He turned to look at Michael. “Why do you think she went there anyway?”

“I know she went to see the musical with her best friend at the time. Her name was Helen,” Michael said, a slow smile spreading across his face when his grandmother covered her mouth with one trembling hand. “She’s Richard’s sister.” “Who is Richard?” his mother asked. “Are you still talking about that actor? And why did you mention homosexuality being genetic? Does this have anything to do with that genealogy project you’ve been working on? Was someone else in the family gay?” “I don’t want to talk about this,” Grandma Elizabeth said. “And I don’t want to watch your stupid video either.” “Way to be supportive, Grandma.” “Don’t be disrespectful, Michael,” his mother slapped him on the shoulder again. “Turn that thing off right now,” his grandma ordered. “There are other gays in our family?” his father asked. “I didn’t even know we had more family!” “We don’t!” his grandma snapped, then got up from her chair and slammed the laptop closed. “Please, Elizabeth,” his mother said. “There’s no reason to get so upset.” “We don’t have any other family,” his grandma repeated. “And George was not a homosexual.” She shot a dirty look in Michael’s direction. “Was it on my side of the family then?” his mother asked. “Who is Richard? And who is Helen?” his father asked the second his mother got quiet. “How does Michael know about her?” He looked around the table, trying to figure out what was going on. “He has no idea what’s he talking about,” his grandma said. “I’m going to my room.” “Come on, Elizabeth,” his mother said. “We don’t have to watch the video. Just sit down and eat, please.” “Mom is right, we don’t have to,” Michael reached under his chair and grabbed the folder he had hid in there when he first walked in to the dining room. “We can we talk about my genealogy project instead.” “I’m not hungry anymore,” his grandma said. “I’m going to my room, and you better stop talking about things that don’t concern you,” she growled at him. “Fat chance,” he growled right back at her. “Michael!” His mother admonished yet again. “Sit down, Mom,” he heard his father say, and one look at him told Michael he had finally realized something important was going on.

“I want to go to my room.” “And I want answers,” Michael said. “I want to know what happened to Grandpa. I want to know what you said to him every time he contacted you, and if you ever replied to any of the letters he sent asking you to let him see his son. I want to know why he disappeared and how come nobody has ever seen him again. Did he die? Where is he buried? What did you do with his body? I mean, I kinda understand you being hurt because he was in love with somebody else, but he never betrayed you, Grandma. And Dad didn’t have anything to do with that, did he? And you’re the last person who ever saw Richard. You gotta know what happened to him! You’re his wife!” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Grandma Elizabeth said, her wrinkled face hard as a stone and her eyes impenetrable. “Michael, sweetie…” His mother caressed his arm in an effort to calm him down. “What is going on?” “We know what happened to my father,” his father said. “He suffered a heart attack. He-” “That’s a lie!” Michael interrupted his father, not once looking away from his grandmother. “George Spencer didn’t die when you were a toddler. He didn’t even exist! Spencer is Grandma’s maiden name. Mary Elizabeth Spencer. Did you know that’s her full name?” he knew he was getting louder by the second, but he didn’t care. “She changed it when she left her husband. She changed her name and made up a fake husband and a story to tell you and the rest of the world and never let your real father or you aunt see you again.” “Aunt..?” his father repeated. “Real father… We have more family?” “Helen is your aunt,” Michael said. “She’s married to Robert Wallace and they have five children whom, in turn, have thirteen kids between them, so yeah, we have more family. I didn’t get to look into Grandma’s side yet but I won’t be surprised if we have plenty of relatives living in New Jersey. That’s where’s she’s from. Not Seattle.” “Oh, boy,” his mother whispered right before getting up from her chair and running to her husband’s side. She took his hand in hers, then grabbed Michael’s arm with her other. That gesture of support coming from his mother almost made him weep. It was good to know both him and his father could count on her. “Shut your mouth right now,” his grandma ordered. “No,” his dad said. “I want to hear this… I need to hear this…” “You were born Richard Lewis Bancroft the Third, Dad.” “Bancroft,” his mother repeated. “Like the actor?” “Just like the actor, which explains why I look exactly like him and Grandma here almost swallowed her dentures when I mentioned other people had noticed the resemblance as well,”

Michael didn’t care that he was being disrespectful and the fact that his mother didn’t call him out on it proved she thought Grandma Elizabeth deserved his fury and scorn. Regardless of the reasons she might’ve had, it was despicable what she’d done. Michael watched his father rub his face with his hands and take a deep, shaky breath. He was pale, and his blue eyes were full of barely contained tears, but he was trying to remain calm. His blue eyes were identical to Michael’s… Richard Spencer looked a little like his father, too. “Why?” his father finally asked to no one in specific. Michael could only imagine how he must be feeling at the moment. He’d had time to prepare for this, but it was all new to his dad. He waited for a few seconds, but wasn’t surprised when his grandma didn’t answer. She just kept looking in the kitchen’s direction; her face hard and her eyes dry. Not a single sign of regret for what she had done to her own son. “As far as I can tell, because he was gay,” Michael said. “He was in love with a guy before he married Grandma. I don’t have all the facts yet, but it looks like he changed his mind about living a lie. He talked to Grandma about it. And I know he tried to talk to Manny. That’s the name of the guy he was in love with… but then he disappeared. Nobody’s seen him since 1968. “Sweetie,” his mother said, “are you absolutely sure about this?” “He kept journals, Mom. I’m positive Richard Bancroft was my grandfather,” he said directly to his dad. “I spoke with Aunt Helen earlier today, Dad. She lives with her husband in Florida. They retired there a few years ago.” He took his research folder and handed it over to his father. “This is everything I was able to find on him on the Internet, but I have lots more I found in Grandma’s attic.” He ignored his grandmother’s gasp. “It wasn’t easy to get in touch with Aunt Helen. Lots of people have called her throughout the years asking for Richard, so she’s a little skittish. But I was able to prove I’m the real thing, and she believed me. She wants to see me… see us…” “Is this what you were talking about earlier today?” his father asked. “Are you going to see her?” “Yes. She invited me… well, all of us. Me, you and Mom. They’re having some sort of celebration this coming Saturday. I think she said it’s an anniversary or something like that, and she’d love for the entire family to be together for the first time,” Michael glanced at his mother, but spoke directly to his father. “I need to go, Dad. I knew you’d want to go, too, once I told you about it, but you need time to sort things out here and I can’t wait. I know I’m grounded, but I can’t wait.” “Is he going to be there? “My… you know, my father?” Michael swallowed the lump in his throat. He was almost eighteen years old and not once had seen his father look as fragile as he did now. “I don’t know… I don’t know what’s happened to him. Aunt Helen wouldn’t tell me. She just said certain things are best discussed in person.” Michael closed his eyes and refused to cry. That was the part he was dreading the most: to be told his grandfather was dead now that he had just found him. “Never mind being grounded,” his mother said. “How are you planning on getting to Miami?”

“Charlie booked a flight for me. Seven A.M. tomorrow. I’m gonna need a ride to the airport, though… and I owe him six hundred bucks.” “You should have come to us as soon as you found out about this,” his mother admonished in a very low voice. “But I can understand why you didn’t. I’ll make sure Charlie gets the money back.” “Thanks, Mom.” “Show it to me,” his father said, getting up from his chair. “Show me what you found in the attic.” “Come on,” Michael got up, and so did his mother. “I have it in my room.” “Don’t even think about going to your room,” his father warned his own mother, who was yet to show any emotions after what had just transpired. “You and I are going to have a long talk.”

* * *

Chapter Seven

July 6, 1965 For years I have listened to what Benjamin has to say. For years I have solicited and often taken his advice. He is a close friend; older and wiser than me. He’s managed to build a successful career and survive in this town. He has different tastes and needs that he’s kept satisfied for years without ever having any eyebrows raised at him, and his reputation has never been fodder for gossip in a place that seems to live for it. I always thought he had all the answers and not once did I stop to consider that maybe we want different things out of life. I should have. For the first time since meeting Benjamin I find myself wishing that I had not paid attention to the ideas he put in my mind. By taking a wife and pretending that I am not a homosexual man I have surrendered to the kind of false life that disgusted me so much in the past. I have also relinquished my dreams of a future with the person I love and the biggest joy I’ve ever known. In return, I get to watch Manny play his game and live his life in a safe way. I know I should be outside in the garden; standing next to my bride and greeting everyone that came to celebrate this day with us. But here I am instead: hiding in my studio and trying to come to terms with the enormity of what I’ve done.

July 25, 1965 I saw Manny outside the studio today. I came out there he was; his midnight eyes watching me from across the street. He looked so tired. He wasn’t too close, but I could tell he’s lost weight. He was unshaven, too. Manny never goes unshaven. He says a face as handsome as his needs to be shown. I totally agree. But he was unshaven and his clothes were disheveled… Lord, he looked wretched. He took a few steps forward but stopped right before crossing the street. There he waited and waited… I didn’t go to him. I didn’t dare. I’ve missed him too much… wanted him too much… I knew I wouldn’t be able to refrain from touching him. People would’ve seen, and my sacrifice would have been in vain. He was still waiting when I got in my car and drove away from him.

August 30, 1965 Mary Elizabeth has had no problems adapting to Hollywood’s lifestyle. She loves the parties and the glamour; being catered to and receiving special treatment. She gloats about our

luxurious house and cars and clothes and jewelry means more than anything else to her in the entire world. She lives to dress up and constantly tries to out stage the most popular actresses in the business. She has made friends with which she spends all her time. They go out every day. I don’t know where to, nor do I care. I’m just grateful her presence has put to rest all those rumors that a few months ago could have cost Manny his life.

September 9, 1965 I went to see Manny play today. He’s had an excellent year and I wanted to be there for him, even if I am not. I’m not sure if that makes sense. I miss him so damn much. Every single hour of every day I think about him. I read his letters and I look at his pictures. I pray that he’s at least content, and that some day he understands why I had to do things this way. Then perhaps he’ll be able to forgive me… Perhaps he won’t hate me so much anymore… I took the exact same seat I did when I went to his games in the past. It was a risk I knew I shouldn’t have taken, as it could get people talking once again, but I couldn’t sit anywhere else. I needed for Manny to see me. I needed for him to look my way and do his special secret signal he did to let me know he’d seen me. I hadn’t realized, not until I got to the stadium, how desperate I was for something… anything… that would connect us again. And when I got it… God, he looked up, brushed his cheek against his shoulder and smiled at me! It was the biggest, brightest smile I’ve seen on that gorgeous face of his. I smiled back at him, and it got bigger yet. Everything faded away. The crowd, the other players, the noise… Manny was smiling at me, and I felt alive again. During the fifth inning my elation came to an end. I was approached by a young guy who usually sat near me during the games. He had a message to give me. “Stay away from him”. That’s what the wrinkled note said. I don’t know if he wrote it or somebody else asked him to give it to me. I didn’t try to find out either. All that mattered was that I had exposed Manny again. I couldn’t leave the stadium fast enough.

“Would you like some juice or soda?” Michael looked at the flight attendant and shook his head. “How about some coffee?” Now, that was something he could definitely use. “I’ll take a cup, thanks.” “We have sandwiches, salads and cheese and fruit trays. Would like to purchase anything?” the lady asked, all smiles and shit. Michael couldn’t reciprocate. He was too nervous to be pleasant. His stomach tied up in one too many knots for him to even smell food right now.

“Just coffee, thanks.” He took the plastic cup from her and set it on his tray to let it cool off a bit. A quick glance at his watch told him it hadn’t been even an hour since take off and he almost groaned out loud. The minutes seemed to be dragging since the big confrontation with his grandma the previous night. One look at his original birth certificate and a few of the letters Richard and Helen had sent to Grandma Elizabeth pleading with her to let them see the boy was all that had taken for his dad to break down and start crying like a little kid. Michael and his mother were not far behind. The night had been an emotional roller coaster, with his dad alternately screaming at or refusing to talk to his own mother. Grandma Elizabeth told them why she’d kept quiet. She was convinced that “Richard was a spawn of the devil”, that “Divorced men are never good parents”, said that “If Richard didn’t want me then he couldn’t have you either”, and explained that she “made up a story about a dead husband because being a widow was much better than having people know I’m divorced”. His father had lost his shit and screamed at the top of his lungs that those weren’t acceptable reasons for her to decide to deprive him from having his father. There was what felt like hours of relentless interrogation from all of them. At first she’d refused to answer, but just when Michael started getting worried about his father suffering a heart attack or something from so much yelling, Grandma Elizabeth decided to grumble a few answers. Apparently the Spencers were a force to be reckoned with when they decided to gang up on someone. No, there was never a George Spencer. No, there wasn’t any life insurance money from him either. No; she never told anyone where she was going once she moved out of the Bancroft mansion in Malibu. She really didn’t know what Richard had done once he left. Yes, she’d thrown him out and threatened to hurt herself if Richard dared to come back. Then she’d said she’d give the boy to someone. No, she was never crazy nor did she think she needed psychological help. She said Benjamin Newman bought the Malibu house and all the money from the sale came to her. She said she didn’t use the money to send Richard Jr. to college. She had received a letter from someone notifying her that her son was the recipient of some kind of scholarship. No, Richard never knew where she lived but Benjamin always tried to get the information from her the few times they met so that he could give her money. Yes, she thought the money came from Richard. It was a lot of money. Yes, as far as she knew Richard had been alive back then, but she didn’t know anymore. Benjamin passed away in the early 1980s and that was the only connection she had with Richard. Michael’s head had been spinning by the time she shut up. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, but nothing came out of his mouth. He was outraged at her actions. For some reason he kept thinking they wouldn’t have been as extreme had his grandfather been in love with another woman instead of a man. Maybe his opinion was biased, but hey, he was gay, so whatever. Michael took a sip of his coffee, buried his nose in the journal and settled back in his seat. Once the worst of the storm had passed, he’d locked himself in his room to read the last entries

Richard ever made in his journal. He knew he was reaching, but he was hoping to find clues as to where had his grandpa had disappeared to all those years ago. He hadn’t found anything so far, but now it was time to just go back to the entries he had skipped. He was determined to know everything there was to know by the time he met his long lost aunt. September 21, 1965 Being married isn’t as easy as I thought I would be. Feigning happiness is complicated, even for an actor like me. When I proposed to Mary Elizabeth we both knew there was no love between us, but she assured me it would come with time. She was wrong. I might have chosen to stay away from Manny, but I still belong to him. Determination to keep him safe has helped me fulfill my spousal duties, but I know my body would never perform with anybody else. I will forever be his.

September 27, 1965 We went to a party at Benjamin’s house today. As usual it was lively and gay. Only the best music, drinks, food and guests. I amused myself trying to guess how many of those guests would have stayed if they knew how very gay the party really was. I saw several of the men Benjamin introduced me to while at his house over a year ago. I didn’t say hello to any of them. Their presence made me feel exposed and more uncomfortable than ever around Mary Elizabeth. This time around I wasn’t as quick to judge them or the decisions they’ve made, probably because I am now one of them. I understand that hiding behind a wife is sometimes the only plausible option for men like us, but I refuse to copy their actions in every way. I might not love my wife the way I should, but I won’t disrespect her either by being unfaithful. Truth is I just wanted to come home, and had almost convinced Mary Elizabeth it was time to leave when I saw him across the room. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t focus on anything other than this tall, strong, fantastic looking man that until recently had been mine. I couldn’t stop my reaction to him. My heart was beating its way up my throat and my lower body hardening to a painful state of arousal, and I couldn’t stop it. I wanted to go to him. I wanted to touch him and kiss him and beg him to take me away. I needed to feel him. Have his lips consume me and his skin touch mine. Lose myself in his heady scent. I wanted to take him in my mouth and not let him go until I’d made him spill. I wanted to drink every drop and then start all over again. And I know that wouldn’t have been the end of it. My Manny, he’s passionate and has the stamina of a purebred stallion. I know he would’ve had me on my back and spread open for him fifteen minutes after I’d finished swallowing the last drop of him. I wanted this so bad I almost went to him. I didn’t have to. He came to me instead.

I was paralyzed. He shook my hand, even though I don’t remember taking his, and from behind the white noise in my head I heard him introduce himself to Mary Elizabeth. She was smiling and he was a perfect gentleman, telling my wife how he and I used to be close friends but not anymore. She asked why. He said he wasn’t entirely sure but hoped to find out some day. They talked some more… I can’t be sure about what, as it was impossible for me to pay attention and conceal my physical and emotional reaction to his presence at the same time. I tried to leave. I remember pushing Mary Elizabeth toward the door, but she stood her ground, smiling up at my handsome Latino and asking if he was an actor, just like Ricky Ricardo. I remember laughing at that. That my wife didn’t know the actor’s real name and had referred to him by the name of the character he played on television struck me as the funniest thing in the world. I laughed and laughed. I could feel tears coming down my face, I laughed so much. I couldn’t stop. At least not until I heard Mary Elizabeth tell him she would love to go to one of his baseball games. And Manny said she was welcome to come… that I knew where the best seats in the house were. He left soon after. I don’t remember much of what I did, but at some point I must have left the party and drive us home because here I am, hiding in my studio trying not to cry.

Michael groaned for real this time. Up to that point he’d managed to stay away from anything related to his grandpa’s sexual life, but by the time he realized what he was reading it was already too late. Yikes. Grandpa got a hard on for his man while standing next to his wife and Manny could go ten rounds in one night. T.M.I. Overload. He was going to need therapy for the next twenty years in order to get that image out of his frigging head. He shuddered and kept on reading.

October 5, 1965 We went to the game. Mary Elizabeth insisted. She likes to be seen around town with me. We took my usual seats. Manny didn’t look in my direction once. I felt like throwing up the entire time. His team won. There were congratulations and victory dances among the players down on the field before they headed to the dugout. Right before getting there Manny turned around. He brushed his cheek against his shoulder. And he flipped me the bird.

October 14, 1965 Not only did Manny’s team win the World Series today, but he was also named MVP of the game. I am so proud of him. I wish I could tell him how proud I am. How happy for him. I’m so happy I can’t contain my tears. He’s the MVP. He’s a champion… I think I’m going to drink to that…

November 20, 1965 Found out today Benjamin is going to his house in Florida for a few days. I know why. I know what happens there. So I asked with whom. I needed to know. He told me and I swung at him. For the first time in my life I hit another human being. He told me to calm down; to get over it and just go with them. That it would be the perfect opportunity to work things out with Manny and come to an agreement. He said marriage was supposed to give me the freedom I needed to be with the man I decided to be with; not make me miserable. He said I’m doing everything wrong and if I don’t get my head out of my ass it won’t be long before Manny finds a replacement. I swung at him again and left.

November 21, 1965 I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about Manny going to Florida with Benjamin and his group of uninhibited friends and I want to die. I can’t take this. I can’t think about him with someone else. I know I am being irrational. I cannot expect for him to be alone for the rest of his life when I have made it more than clear that I am not going back to him, but I do. Doesn’t he understand what I’m doing for him? He needs to understand… I’ve got to make him understand…

November 30, 1965 I was a fool to accept Benjamin’s invitation. I should have known there was a possibility I would encounter things I didn’t want to deal with, but I had to talk to him. I had to talk to Manny. I found him with a man. They were out on the patio, talking and smiling and feeding each other fruit! Well, the other man was feeding fruit to Manny, and Manny was letting him. He shouldn’t have let him! I remember that man from last year. He was a lecherous pig incapable of thinking about anything other than sex. Manny knows how the man is, too. But there he was, talking to him like they’re best friends. I told that pig to leave us alone. He didn’t want to, but he must have realized I was ready to commit murder, because he finally got up and left. And Manny had the… the… balls to tell me I had no right to ask the man to leave. And he asked me what I was doing on the island. It made me so angry to hear him ask such a thing. Didn’t he really know? He should have, and because he didn’t I yelled it to him. I yelled that he wasn’t being fair. That I had given up my sanity and my happiness and more importantly, I’d given him up just to make sure he was safe. I gave him up! I told him I was dying from the pain caused by not having him in my life, and that it’s unfair for him to take my sacrifice and throw it out the window. He wasn’t supposed to be with other men. He wasn’t supposed to be with anybody else!

I demanded that he gathered his things and came back to Los Angeles with me. I yelled at him until my throat started to bleed, and he yelled right back at me. He was more furious than I was. He kept going from Spanish to English, making me miss half of what he was saying. He called me a coward. He said I’d betrayed him. He said I was the worst person ever for taking my wife to see him play. He told me to go back home. To leave him alone. I kissed him. I grabbed his face, pulled him against me and kissed him with all the love and desire I’d been smothering for months. I rubbed myself against his hard body; begging without words for something I craved so much, I thought I’d die if he didn’t give me it to me. Then I took his hand and covered myself with it. I could feel its heat and strength through the fabric of my trousers. And for one glorious moment he squeezed me. Hard enough to hurt, but I felt no pain. He didn’t open my fly. He didn’t take me in his hand and stroke me up and down the way I like… yet I exploded all the same. I was still trying to recover from the blinding pleasure I’d just experienced when he pushed me away from him. He looked at me for a long time and right before my eyes I saw him turn into stone. His midnight eyes became dull; his lips a hard line. And when he spoke, I felt the ice in his voice running through my veins. He said he wasn’t a cheap thrill. That whenever we had touched in the past had been with love. He said I lost the right to touch him the moment I decided to betray his faith in me. I argued that I did it to keep him safe, because I was scared for him. He said it wasn’t my decision to make. He said he doesn’t want to see me ever again. He looked at me in the eye and told me to go home to my wife, because that’s whom I belong to now. I just knew he meant it with all his heart.

December 20, 1965 I drove by Manny’s house today. He visits his family every year for the holidays and I knew he wouldn’t be around. There’s a For Sale sign in the front yard. At first I couldn’t understand why he would want to sell his place. Manny loves his house. He bought it when he first started making money as a baseball player and he’s proud that he owns it in full. Many times he said he would never get rid of it because it was also our special place and everything inside now reminded him of me. It took me a few minutes, but I finally realized that I am the reason why he doesn’t want to be in his own house anymore. He’s disposing of his memories of me. He wants to leave me behind. He is leaving me behind…

“Shit, Richard…” Michael whispered, quickly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand before anybody noticed he was crying like a baby. Reading his grandpa’s journals it was easy to forget that the guy had been only twenty-one when he met the love of his life and twenty-two when he lost him. He always sounded so formal; so proper. Michael hoped things had turned around for the guy. That at some point in his life he’d been able to recover from that terrible breakup with Manny and the story with his wife. He wanted to think that eventually Richard had found himself a good guy to love and be happy with. On the other hand, he kind of preferred to think the guy was long gone. It was easier to believe his grandpa was dead than to wonder why he’d never tried to find his son. Yes, Grandma Elizabeth had been pretty selfish, but forty-three years was a damn long time. He could’ve done something had he wanted to. Hire a detective, Google them, whatever. Then again, maybe he’d moved on. From Manny, from his marriage and from his son. He wiped his eyes again. He was trying to be fair and understanding, but it hurt. It fucking hurt that his grandpa never knew about him. It really did.

* * *

Chapter Eight

January 14, 1966 I don’t want to leave the house anymore. I don’t want to have to go to work. People annoy me so much with their constant gossip and questions… I don’t want to hear them and I don’t want to look at them. Their attitude and behavior are nothing but a reminder of why I did what I did. I don’t want to be constantly reminded of how much of an idiot I was.

February 23, 1966 I had lunch with Benjamin today. He’s worried about me and my emotional health. I never even knew Benjamin would notice anyone’s emotional anything. He’s a good man, but self-centered for the most part. He was offended when I told him that. Apparently he can be very sensitive as well. I asked if he’d seen Manny. I couldn’t help myself. Benjamin said last he heard, Manny was trying to get transferred to a different team. Selling his house wasn’t enough for him. It seems he can’t stand to live in the same state as me.

March 30, 1966 Mary Elizabeth is pregnant. We’re going to have a kid. I… this is a miracle. We haven’t had sex in months. I never thought I’d be a father… I’m going to be a little person’s Daddy! I’m terrified.

April 23, 1966 I was nominated for an Academy Award this year. I have been dreaming of this moment my entire life. I studied, rehearsed and worked for it until I was exhausted. I won. That coveted gold statue is mine. It means absolutely nothing to me.

July 6, 1966 I received a telephone call from Helen today. She’s worried about me after a conversation she had with Mary Elizabeth. My pregnant wife is upset because I have become a hermit. She told Helen I don’t go to parties, I don’t host any parties, we don’t go out often enough and we don’t invite people over. I said we should be getting ready for the baby’s arrival. We need to be responsible about money, as there are no guarantees I will be making movies for years to come. Hollywood is the kingdom of whims. The same people that love you today could hate you tomorrow. I need to make sure my family is provided for. Also, I am not in the mood for parties. These days I only manage to smile when there’s a paycheck involved. Helen wanted to know if I have recovered from my ill fated affair and wonders if she didn’t make a mistake by agreeing with Benjamin in that I could never let the world know about Manny and I. I did not answer. It was never ill fated between me and Manny. I killed it myself. But that is something I don’t discuss with anyone. The events are still too recent… too tender. I fear I might crumble and never be able to get up again if I so much as mention his name. And what does it matter if she made a mistake or not? I know I did… but it’s too late to rectify.

August 12, 1966 I went to see Manny play today. I know he doesn’t want to see me, but he can’t stop me if he doesn’t know I’m around. I wore casual attire and made sure to stay away from my usual seat. Nobody noticed me. He looked fantastic. I couldn’t see his face from where I was, but I didn’t need to. I know by memory the shape of his eyes; the slight bump on his nose; the tilt of his mouth. I know every expression line that forms around his eyes and mouth when he laughs… and when he hurts. To be able to sit amongst strangers and look at him without raising any brows was exactly what I needed to feel alive again. For nine months I restrained myself. I managed to respect his decision of not wanting to see me again, but I can only be so strong… I just needed to see him…

August 23, 1966 Benjamin is out of town. He didn’t tell me where he’s going and I did not need to ask. At this time of the year, there’s only one place where he would go. I’m doing everything I can not to think about the possible guest list.

Mary Elizabeth hates me. She’s gained weight with the pregnancy and can’t go out with her friends anymore. I don’t understand why she complains so much. I can see how uncomfortable she is in such a late stage of her pregnancy, but shouldn’t she be enjoying this? God knows that watching my child grown inside her belly is the only good thing in my life. She should be happy too.

September 8, 1966 I am a father! Richard Lewis Bancroft, the Third, was born today. He is perfect. He has all his little toes and fingers and the cutest button nose. His hair is dark, like his mother’s, but I think his eyes are blue like mine. I love him so much already. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.

December 24, 1966 I drove by Manny’s house tonight. He moved out a long time ago, but it’s the only connection still have with him. I parked across the street and took my bottle of gin out so that I could have a drink with him. We ended up having five. I wished him a Merry Christmas. He probably didn’t hear me. He is with his family at this time, and Manny always said they can be really loud, but I wished him a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year and all the happiness in the world. One of us deserves to be happy. I doubt it will ever be me.

The plane was shaking like crazy. Michael put the journal down and shut his eyes, praying the turbulence didn’t last long. “Damn,” he whispered. “I hate this shit.” He gripped the armrests of his seat and ignored his travel companion, some business man who was shooting dirty looks his way, as if he wasn’t scared shitless himself. Michael hated people like that. Once the turbulence was finally over he took the credit card he was only supposed to use for emergencies and called home. Michael knew his dad had been very tempted to get himself a ticket and board the plane to Florida with him, but ultimately decided he needed more answers from his own mother and take care of her medical appointments before he could leave Lake Tahoe. His dad had always been a very responsible man. “Hello? Honey, is that you?” Michael smiled and let out a deep breath. Although his parents had never been touchy feely with one another, they had always been very loving and supportive of him. Michael never had a reason to doubt they wouldn’t give their own lives for their son’s, but he never saw anything that’d indicate they’d do the same for each other. Last night’s events had changed that. “Michael?” “Yeah, Mom,” he said. “It’s me.”

“Is everything alright? You didn’t land yet, did you?” She sounded exhausted and worried out of her mind. Michael knew she probably hadn’t even been to bed yet. She had been in protective mode for hours now. “Halfway across the country, but wanted the check on you guys... Find out how’s everything with Grandma and Dad.” “Well, your father finally went to bed, thank goodness. He’s exhausted after… you know…” Michael waited for a few seconds. He was sure his mother was trying not to cry again. “He called Aunt Helen and spoke with her for a while. You have no idea, she was so happy to hear from him. They made arrangements. Dad and I will be flying to Florida tomorrow night.” “What about Grandpa?” Michael asked. “Did she say anything about him? She wouldn’t tell me anything.” He was thrilled to talk to the woman he’d gotten to know through his grandpa’s journals, but she had totally pissed him off. “She could’ve told me whether Grandpa is alive or not, couldn’t she? I don’t get what the big fucking deal is.” “Michael, language!” He rolled his eyes. “For you and Dad’s sake I’m hoping he is alive, but honey, you have to be prepared that he might not be. Maybe that’s why Aunt Helen hasn’t said anything. She doesn’t want to tell you over the phone… And maybe she’s afraid you wouldn’t have gone to see her if you knew Grandpa Richard isn’t around anymore.” “Well, that’s bullshit!” “Michael, do not be disrespectful to your aunt, do you hear me?” “Come on, Mom; I won’t. I’m just… you know…” “I know… Believe me, I know,” she repeated softly. “Listen, I need to let you go. I’m going to take Grandma to her doctor appointment and let Dad sleep for a while. He needs it very much. And so do you. Put those journals away for a bit and make sure you get some sleep, okay?” “Okay, Mom,” he agreed, even though he knew he wasn’t going to. “And call me as soon as you get to Sarasota,” she demanded. “We need to know that everything’s okay.” “I will.” “Love you, honey.” “Love you too, Mom.” Michael ended the call and continued to read.

February 4, 1967 We fought again today. It seems like Mary Elizabeth and I can’t be in the same room together without having an argument over one thing or another. A party I don’t want to go to, a party I

refuse to show up to even when we are the hosts, my newly found appreciation for gin, my lack of appreciation for her beauty, my obsession with being a good dad, the time I spend writing my stories, the possible reasons why I leave our marital bed every night to go out to the patio to watch the ocean until the sun comes up and it’s time to go back to work… She seems to have a problem with everything. I do my best to make her happy, but it doesn’t seem to be enough. I need to get more gin…

April 23, 1967 I won another Academy Award. I’ll drink to that.

May 30, 1967 I dreamt of him tonight. We were together again, making love under the stars; the sound of the waves crashing around us… I need to see him… God, what wouldn’t I do to be able to see him for a little while.

July 4, 1067 Richie is such a smart little boy. He’s the joy of my life and I missed him so much the past four weeks. Going to different locations to work on new films is not something I like to do anymore. I prefer to be home, with my son. That’s why I’m considering working on television from now on. I don’t want to be away from him. We christened him today. Benjamin will be a wonderful godfather. I know he will.

July 25, 1966 Actors slip into somebody else’s life every day we go to work. We talk different; behave different from how we normally do. Every role is a challenge that requires attention to details and dedication. As an actor I have learned the ways of bankers, doctors, construction workers, cowboys, policemen and priests. I can laugh and cry at will. I am so good at pretending to be someone else that I have been recognized for my good work in more than one occasion.

Yet, I cannot pretend that I am not dead inside… that the only thing in the world that matters anymore is my son. He gives me the strength I need to keep working and make it through the day… through another day…

August 12, 1967 It could have been a perfect visit. My parents met their grandson for the first time. Helen and her husband joined us as well. She is pregnant and happy. But Mary Elizabeth is not. She ruined the one weekend I was looking forward to. August is a difficult time of the year for me. Going home to New Jersey, a place where nothing reminds me of what could have been but was not, was supposed to keep me occupied and entertained. I was hoping that being around my family would make me feel happy. That maybe the excitement of seeing them again would stop me from trying to drown my sorrows in gin, which is something I seem to be doing every day. I don’t want to turn into a drunk. I don’t. Mary Elizabeth decided it was a good time to discuss my flaws and how much of an inadequate husband I turned out to be. She claims I mislead her. That by marrying an actor she had expected to lead a glamorous life. Instead she is home changing diapers. She whined and nagged so much I wanted to kill myself. She also complained about my decision of not making any movies that will take me away from home and the amount of time I spend writing stupid stories that no one cares about. She begged my mother to talk to me and convince me to be reasonable; to make me see that giving up my fame and fortune would be insane. I had to laugh. I hadn’t realized until that moment how little she knew me. By God, if she wanted for someone to convince me of something, she should have asked Helen. It is because of my sister that I ended up married to Mary Elizabeth, after all.

September 8, 1967 It is my son’s first birthday. I willingly hosted a party today. I celebrated having him in my life. Mary Elizabeth was happy again. She even wanted to have sex. This is the reason why I’m hiding in my studio. I can’t be with her… I just… I can’t…

November 22, 1967 I saw Manny today. I stood close enough to smell his scent… to feel the heat of his skin on mine. It happened at Benjamin’s house. I received excellent news in the mail from Benjamin’s attorney and I had to thank my friend for helping me decide what to do with the stories I’ve been writing. I drove to his house unannounced. Manny was visiting with Benjamin when I got to his place. They have remained friends and I’m grateful for it. Even though I don’t put Benjamin in a difficult position by asking him to give me any details, it is comforting to know I talk to someone who, in turn, talks to Manny. I took a look at him and froze, but at the same time I was consumed by the heat that covers my entire body whenever I’m near him. I was paralyzed and incapable of saying anything. I just kept looking at him; praying that he’d stay long enough so that I could at least breathe him in. He didn’t talk to me and excused himself far too soon, but I could tell he wanted to come to me. He almost did. He took a step towards me and extended his hand… perhaps to touch me? Maybe he wanted to take me in his arms and never let me go… God, I wish he had. I wish he had told me how stupid I was for giving him up, then finally forgive me and take me away. I wish I could become a hippie or a beach bum or whatever he decides we have to be in order to be together. I wish I knew how he feels. He never touched me. He didn’t even talk to me. He just excused himself and left. He left.

December 5, 1967 Mary Elizabeth thinks I am being unfaithful to her. I assured her I am not, but she demanded I told her who my mistress is. I asked what makes her think I have one. She said we don’t have sex. That is the truth. I have no desire for her, but that doesn’t mean I have a mistress. I told her I am preoccupied about work and changes in the movie industry. She screamed at me so much she woke up the baby. I told her to settle down. She said I only care about my son. Of course I do. I told her that, and also that she should care about him too. It isn’t good for the baby to get scared like that. She yelled some more and threw me out of our room. I don’t think I’m ever going back.

December 24, 1967 I drove by Manny’s house today. I parked across the street and had a few drinks with him. I talked to him. I told him how much I miss him… how much I hurt… I asked if he still hates me or if he even thinks about me anymore. I asked him if he’s happy and if he found somebody else to love.

I’m glad he didn’t answer. I’m not entirely sure what would have happened had I been able to confirm my Manny loves somebody else.

December 31, 1967 We hosted a party tonight. Mary Elizabeth had a marvelous time. I just went upstairs and played with my son.

January 25, 1968 We fought again, and it was louder than ever before. Mary Elizabeth was livid. In order to discover who my mistress is she’s been looking through my things. This afternoon she found my journals. I did not deny any of it. And it felt so good to be able to be honest with her. About what I am and who I have loved for years. I told her the marriage is not working for me. That it isn’t fair for her to live with a man who will always belong to another man. She wanted to call the doctors and have them treat my condition. Said they will be able to cure me. She asked if I am with Manny. I was honest with her. I said that I broke his heart and he hasn’t talked to me for many years. I don’t have any illusions he ever will. But that doesn’t change the fact that I will never love her the way she deserves to be loved. I told her I want a divorce. She hasn’t talked to me in the past hour. I’ll wait a little longer and give her some time to calm down, then I’ll try to reason with her again. We need to be able to come to some kind of understanding. We owe it to our son. I don’t want to do anything that might hurt him.

* * *

Chapter Nine

Everything was a blur from the time Michael’s plane landed at Sarasota Bradenton International Airport to the time they made their way to his aunt’s car. There where hugs and tears and more hugs. From his aunt, his Uncle Robert and the two grandchildren who came along with them. He couldn’t remember their names, but he’d take care of that once he’d settled down. He liked Aunt Helen a lot. She was tall and beautiful; old and ageless at the same time. Her voice was soft; her eyes even softer. Uncle Robert was obviously crazy in love with her still, and her grandchildren didn’t hide how much they adored her. Aunt Helen sat with him on the third seat of their mini-van. She patted his hand while he talked to his parents then took the phone to assure them she would take good care of him. Then she grabbed his face between her hands and cried again. She said he looked exactly like her brother had when he was a boy and told him she couldn’t believe how much he’d grown since the last time she’d seen him. Michael was baffled by that comment; totally confused. He had just found out they existed. Why would she say she’d seen him before? He didn’t say anything to her, though. She might have looked ageless, but she was old. Late sixties, going by what he’d read in the journals. She must’ve been confused. She hugged him again. It was a weird feeling, to be so close to a person that was a stranger but didn’t feel like one. He was anxious and relaxed at the same time: feeling comfortable but completely out of place. He looked out the window and wondered if the rest of the family would be as welcoming as Aunt Helen and Uncle Robert were. God knew the cousin in New Jersey had been a total pain in the ass when Michael first called his house. His aunt rubbed his head and he relaxed against her shoulder, totally enjoying her attentions and the scenery outside the car. He wanted to ask about his grandpa, but he didn’t dare. If he was going to get bad news, he didn’t want to hear it just yet. “Is your house far from the airport?” Michael asked, watching the palm trees and the ocean that was so close he could smell it. “A few hours away,” she said. “But don’t worry. We’ll be home in no time.” “How many is a few?” “About three hours.” “Right,” Michael sighed. He’d just spent what felt like ten hours on a plane. The last thing he wanted was more traveling time. “Hold on a second,” he said turning to look at her. “If you live so far, why did you have me fly to this airport?”

“Because we’re going to the island, of course,” she patted his hand. “That’s where we’re having the celebration on Saturday. Half the family is already there, but the rest will be flying in tomorrow. Not everybody was able to take time off from work.” “The island?” Michael whispered, an idea forming in his head but he was afraid to run with it. He asked anyway. “As in Benjamin’s private island?” Aunt Helen chuckled and patted his hand one more time. She did that patting thing a lot.“It hasn’t been Benjamin’s in… lord… forty-two years? Richard bought it from him as soon as he had enough money.” “Is that where he went when Grandma Elizabeth threw him out?” “Eventually, yes. He needed to get away. A private island that not many people knew about and could only be accessed by boat was the ideal place for him.” “Of course…” Michael felt like the biggest idiot ever. He should have known. Benjamin Newman had been Richard’s closest friend. He’d opened Richard’s eyes to what he was, introduced him to other gay guys, advised him to get himself a wife and tried to help when Richard got all depressed. He even was his father’s godfather! Of course he would’ve helped Richard when the shit hit the fan. “Is he gonna…” Michael chewed on his lip for a few seconds and started again. “Can you tell me what happened all those years ago? The last journal was right after he told Grandma he wanted a divorce, you know?” He almost asked if his grandpa was going to be on the island, but changed his mind at the last moment. So what if they were going to Richard’s island? That didn’t mean anything. He could’ve left the place to his sister for all Michael knew. “Richard went to Benjamin’s house,” his aunt said, and the soft look in her eyes told him she knew he was stalling. That he didn’t want to ask. “He tried to contact Mary Elizabeth, but she wouldn’t take his calls. Robert and I flew to Los Angeles as soon as we heard of what has happening… I figured she would listen to me. We had been friends, you understand? But she wouldn’t. She felt betrayed and was furious at Richard for taking the lifestyle she was accustomed to away from her. He never intended to do such a thing.” “You gave up pretty soon, didn’t you?” There was no mistaking the accusation in his voice. He was furious on his dad’s behalf. They could’ve tried harder. “She… threatened us with doing certain things if we didn’t stay away,” she said, careful not to mention Grandma Elizabeth’s crazy suicide talk. He could see why she didn’t, but it was unnecessary, as he already knew about that. “Richard didn’t want to take any risks. We continued to write letters to her, though. We were convinced that was safe. I think, between your grandfather and I, we must’ve sent her twenty letters every week. She never answered… not once.” “Then she disappeared and started a new life as some other man’s widow,” Michael concluded. “First in Utah, then Seattle, New Mexico and even Vancouver for a few months before buying the house in Lake Tahoe,” she said, looking out the window. “She was good at disappearing, and back then we didn’t have as many resources to locate people as we do nowadays.”

“We’ve had those resources for at least twenty years,” Michael muttered. He was happy to have found his aunt, but still couldn’t understand why his grandpa hadn’t looked for them the moment he could. Aunt Helen patted his hand again. Was she trying to get him to calm down? “I know,” she said. “Benjamin was the intermediary, but Elizabeth was very careful the three or four times she met with him. Richard hired a few detectives, but I’m afraid that didn’t help. Mary Elizabeth was good at covering her steps… she was too smart for her own good... She was able to get away with what she’d done. Had it not been for that scholarship that Richard was smart enough to set up, he would’ve never been able to find his son,” she said, a huge smile spread across her face. “Here we are, dear, she announced, completely unaware of Michael’s confused look. “You’re going to love this place!” Michael’s mind was reeling. What did she mean, Richard would’ve never been able to find his own son? He never did find him! He opened his mouth to ask Aunt Helen what in the world was she talking about, but he caught a glimpse of the small island ahead of them and all thoughts escaped his mind. At some point in the past forty years an access bridge had been built from the mainland, but gigantic iron gates kept the island private. As the mini-van entered through them Michael’s jaw hit the floor. The place was magnificent. The bluest water ever, broke at the shoreline on bright waves that kissed white sand. There were palm trees and all kinds of other colorful trees and flowers in full bloom. The landscape was unbelievable. He could see yards, gardens and outdoor living space. The house was located about ten minutes away from the main gate. It was big. Like, palatial big. The kind of big Michael had only seen on shows like America’s Richest Homes or MTV Cribs. In the backyard there was a tennis court and an awesome pool with lots of teenagers and kids splashing in it. The adults were on the chairs and around the bar and grill. To the left of the house Michael spotted a private dock with some jet-skis, a speed boat and a damn yacht. His grandfather, or whoever owned the place, was definitely holding. But Aunt Helen said she didn’t live in the island. Could that mean Richard did? Uncle Robert pulled up in front of the house. Michael took a deep breath and got out of the minivan. The nameless cousins ran off to the pool area and Michael followed the adults inside… which was exquisite. He could tell everything was expensive, but it didn’t look like a showroom. It was homey and well lived in. Some of the pillows on the couch were askew. There were some cups on a coffee table and toys all over the place. The sight made him smile. Michael knew the place from Richard’s description of it in his journal. He knew where the bedrooms were and how many bathrooms. He knew where to find the kitchen, the dining room and the studio. He even knew in which direction to go in order to find that secluded stretch of beach his grandpa had loved so much and ultimately been made loved to by the man he had lost. If he closed his eyes, he could feel Richard’s presence in the house. How crazy was that.

“This way, dear,” Aunt Helen said. “Let me show you to your room.” She turned around to follow Uncle Robert, who was already half way up the stairs carrying Michael’s small suitcase. The duffel bag containing the journals, the Tony Award and the Oscars he kept with him. Michael blinked a few times and took several steps back. “Would it be okay if I look around a bit?” he asked. “I promise I won’t touch anything. I just wanna-” “Don’t be silly,” his aunt interrupted, coming back down the stairs and touching him lightly on the arm. “You can touch whatever you want.” She cupped his cheek. “I know the past couple of days have been quite emotional for you, so we’re going to leave you alone for a bit, okay?” “Thanks,” Michael said with a smile. “I just need to… you know…” Take everything in? Pinch himself to make sure he really was in this house? He didn’t know how to explain it to her, and luckily he didn’t have to. She patted his cheek again and headed towards the door. “Make yourself at home. We’ll be out in the patio, whenever you’re ready.” The moment he was left alone Michael began exploring the first floor. Several of the bay windows were open, letting the tropical breeze in. Everything was modern. The house might be the same, but it had undergone some serious renovations. He walked through the living room, the formal dining room and the kitchen. He opened pantry closets and storage closets. He found a game room and a huge home theater. The library was located in the back of the house and so well stocked Michael just knew it was going to make his parents weep. The last room he walked into was an office. It had almost as many books as the library did and he just knew it had been his grandfather’s. Or was… “God, please,” he whispered. “Let it be his office…” Michael broke into a huge grin when he noticed an entire bookcase against a wall contained the work of R.B. Lewis. Man, his dad was going to die when he found out his own father was as big a fan of the famous author as he was. This was something good. They could bond over it or something. At the very least it’d be an ice breaker. Grandpa was definitely a fan. Only the real hardcore fans made sure they got special editions, hardbacks and paperbacks of every installment and goodies related to the books. There were bookmarks and mugs and even tote bags on a chair in the corner. “Jesus,” he chuckled. “He’s worse than Dad.” Michael put his duffel bag on the floor and walked over to the desk. The chuckle turned into a laugh when he spied the screensaver on the computer. The R.B. Lewis logo he’d seen on the every book the author had ever written was slowly swirling around on the screen. “And here Mom thought Dad was R.B.’s oldest groupie.” Michael knew there was a chance he might be wrong about his grandfather, but he refused to think about it. “I gotta make sure I have Dad take a look at this,” he grabbed a book from the desk. “Maybe we can take a picture of it. Dad can show it to R.B. next time they have dinner together.” Michael opened the book and looked through it. “Oh, Dad…” he read the title of the book and laughed. “You’re gonna be so jealous. Someone’s got an advanced copy of the new book before you!”

He laughed again and put the book down next to a huge stack of papers and a few notebooks. He looked around the office again, trying to find the best spot to display what he’d brought with him. He’d just decided the Tony Award would look best on the desk when it hit him. A dead person wouldn’t have a computer with his favorite author’s name as a screensaver, right? He wouldn’t receive advanced copies of books that readers didn’t have any details about either. And that title he’d just read? Never heard it mentioned before. Not once. His father would have said something. Michael hadn’t been able to see much of the author since he went away to Worthington School, but his dad always kept him in the loop of whatever R.B. was up to next on his writing material. Michael set the Oscars next to the Tony and went around the desk. A crazy idea was taking form on his head, and he needed to either confirm it or discard it. Immediately. He moved the notebooks to the side. If he found at least one piece or correspondence he’d be able to… His hand slowed down and finally froze on top of the new book; the name of the author jumping at him. R.B. Lewis… R.B… Lewis… R… Lewis… B… “No…” he whispered. “It can’t be…” He traced the name with his index finger then squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds before looking at the name again. He couldn’t focus on it. The tears wouldn’t let him. “It can’t be…” “Welcome home, Michael.” The deep, shaky voice that reached him from the door was one he knew. He first remembered hearing it when he was four years old, but he knew by talking to his dad that he had been a baby the first time he met its owner. And that voice might not have been a regular, but it had most definitely been a constant in his life. He knew it from dinner at his house with his parents, from going to the movies, from trips to Disneyland and even museums. It’d been present at a few of his birthday parties. It had given him advice and wished him the best of luck when he was sent to Worthington. He’d heard it on the phone congratulating him for his performance in Café Au Lait and asking for a copy of the DVD if the school made on. It belonged to a man that for years Michael had thought of as the coolest surrogate grandpa a guy could’ve had. He didn’t remember moving, but he’d never forget the bear hug he received from arms that were still firm and strong even though they belonged to a sixty-eight year old man. The tears didn’t let him see his face, but he didn’t need to right now. He already knew what the man looked like, so he buried his face on his grandpa’s neck instead and wrapped his arms around the broad shoulders. He felt so solid. Michael knew he was in good health… that with luck he’d have his grandpa for many years to come. They hugged tighter. “It’s you…” Michael managed to say. “You’re there all along...” “Oh, Michael…” his grandpa was sobbing. “I brought your journals and your awards,” he whispered. “She didn’t have a right to keep them…” “Thank you for that…”

“You should’ve told us!” He hugged the older man tighter. “Why didn’t you?” His grandpa caressed his blond hair and kissed him repeatedly on the cheek. Michael broke down and cried like a baby. “You should’ve told us.” “I wanted to. I swear I did,” Grandpa pulled back, but only a little, because Michael wouldn’t let go of him. He blinked a few times, trying to focus on the older man’s face. His grandpa wiped out his tears and kissed his forehead. Michael broke down all over again. “I didn’t think it was right for me to tarnish you and your father’s image of Mary Elizabeth,” he explained. “I decided to wait. I had you and your father in my life. And even Susan, who happens to be a wonderful lady, you see… I decided that I could wait to tell you… “That’s what he says,” the teasing voice came from the door. “But I know better. The moment you started to look like him is the moment he started hoping Mary Elizabeth would grow a conscience and admit to what she’d done. And I’ve got to tell you, he’s been on pins and needles since he found out you’re playing his character in Café Au Lait. We knew the time had come.” Michael’s head snapped to look at the newcomer, and his day all of a sudden got a hundred times better. “Oh my God!” Only one thing could’ve made him let go of his grandpa right now, and it was staring at him from the door. His hair wasn’t midnight black anymore. It was now sprinkled with gray. But the eyes were the same. He’d recognized those twinkling, soulful eyes anywhere from description alone. “Oh my God! Michael sobbed and laughed at the same time, and he hugged this man as tightly as he had Grandpa Richard; with the same joy and love. “Oh, Manny,” Michael hugged him again. “I’m so damn happy to see you here!” “There’s no other place I could ever be,” he said. “We belong together, your grandpa and I, and we’re damn happy to see you, too!” He hugged Michael with one arm and used the other to pull his partner against them. It was the best group hug ever. Michael savored it for all of one minute before he started with the questions. “You gotta tell me what happened after you disappeared. How did you two get back together? I thought you didn’t want to see Grandpa again!” He told Manny, and then turned to look at his grandpa. “I need answers.” “And you shall get them,” his grandpa said, steering him towards the door. “Did you plan it?” Michael continued to ask. “Was that the reason why you wanted a divorce, Grandpa?” “I didn’t plan a thing,” Grandpa Richard said with a chuckle. “He hated me, you see.” “But you’re here together,” Michael pointed out. “He couldn’t have hated you that much!” “Let’s just say I loved him more than I hated him,” Manny said. “And yet he played hard to get,” his grandpa said, rolling his eyes in the cutest way. “For three years, he told me I couldn’t have him. How cruel was that?”

“Oh, stop complaining,” Manny lead them upstairs into what looked like a family room. “I have made it up to you, haven’t I?” “You most certainly have,” Grandpa said, leaning in to share a quick kiss with his partner. Michael’s heart melted all over the deep burgundy carpet. He looked around the room, trying to give the couple some privacy and recover from the cuteness overload, but completely forgetting about it when he spotted the pictures. There were several. Of Grandpa Richard and Manny, of them with another guy and a huge blue marlin, of people Michael assumed were family members on both their parts… and of him and his father and his mother. He took a framed picture of himself with his dad and grandpa. It had been taken during a trip to Disneyland when he was ten. Michael remembered his dad wasn’t crazy about going, but Richard, or R.B., which was what they’d called him all that time, insisted they went. It was a perfect day. “God…” Michael whispered, sitting on one of the couches. “I can’t even imagine what Dad’s reaction is going to be when he finds out.” “I want to be the one to tell him, Michael,” his grandpa said, sitting next to him. “Please don’t mention anything before they get here tomorrow.” “I promise I won’t.” He placed the framed picture on the coffee table and took a deep breath. “For a price, of course,” he added with a huge grin. “Did you come to the island to see Grandpa?” He asked Manny. “Did Benjamin help you? “Oh boy,” Manny laughed, turning towards the door.” Not only he looks like you, but he is just like you. “I’m going to get some refreshments for us.” “Thank you, love.” Michael’s eyes got all misty again. He just couldn’t handle the cuteness overload between those two. “Michael,” his grandpa said, covering his hands his own. “I know you have many questions and I’m more than willing to answer every single one of them, but we have time for that. Can’t we just enjoy the moment for now? I’ve been waiting my entire life for this, you know?” “Can I stay with you for a while?” Michael asked. “I have a few weeks before I gotta to college, and it’d be awesome if I could… you know… be with you?” “You don’t even have to ask,” his grandpa said with a smile. “You’re welcome to stay for as long as you want and visit whenever you feel like it.” “Thank you, Grandpa,” Michael smiled and hugged the man briefly. It was amazing, how easy the transition from calling him R.B. to calling him Grandpa had been. “I want to take you to the patio and introduce you to the rest of the family. They’ve been waiting to meet you. Not too patiently, I might add.” “I’d like that very much. Aunt Helen, I gotta say, she’s awesome,” Michael looked into his grandpa’s blue eyes, so similar to his own. R.B. had always wore glasses, which was probably

the reason why he hadn’t noticed before, but truth was both him and his dad had blue eyes that were identical to Richard’s. “I’m glad she was supportive of you.” “I am too. My parents… let’s just say they weren’t as accepting as Helen was when I told them Manny and I were a couple.” He looked sad for a moment, but shook himself out of whatever memory he was visiting and smiled. “But that’s neither here nor there. This weekend we celebrate.” “Aunt Helen mentioned there’s an anniversary or something going on,” Michael said with a shrug. “Is there gonna be a party?” “Why, yes. Of course there’s going to be a party.” Michael giggled when his grandpa swatted his arm. It was the gayest gesture he’d made so far and it just tickled him to no end. “Forty years of wedded bliss, my sweets. That’s not to be taken lightly.” “Oh my God… is it your anniversary?” “Indeed… and someday I’ll give you details, but for now, I just want to enjoy your presence and get ready for my son’s arrival. It’s about damn time.”

* * *

The family was huge and loud and happy and Michael loved them all instantly. They’d talked to him like they did every other member of the family. He was teased and ragged on and embarrassed the same as the other teenagers in the family did. He was included in every conversation and treated as if he belonged. And the most amazing part was he actually did. Michael rubbed his hair with a towel and walked to the window in the room he’d been assigned. It was almost midnight and with the exception of the crashing waves and the occasional seagull, everything was quiet outside. The bright moon as well as the garden lights made it possible for him to see everything, and he took a moment to take the surroundings in. The island was magnificent and he couldn’t wait to explore it in the morning. His cousin Steven, who was one year older than Michael, had offered to give him the grand tour, and later on he was scheduled to go snorkeling with his cousin Melissa and her girlfriend Tonya. Yup. He definitely loved his family. He was about to turn around when he noticed the two figures walking towards the beach. They were holding hands but didn’t seem to be talking. After almost forty-five years together, Michael figured they didn’t have to in order to communicate. He’d watched them all day. He’d seen them share subtle and not so subtle touches; feed each other and hug lovingly when they went in the pool. That there was still passion between them was obvious, and looking at them now had Michael thinking that that was exactly what he

wanted for himself. He wanted the real deal. He wanted the true love story and a happily ever after. After watching Richard and Manny together, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to settle for less.

* * *

Chapter Ten

July 15, 2011 I have spent four hours visiting my past through journal entries I wrote an eternity ago. Journals that I believed were lost but have now been returned to me by a smart, talented and loving young man that I finally get to call grandson. I find myself analyzing my feelings and thoughts at the time, and wonder what could I have done differently in order to at least decrease the amount of pain I caused some people. Stay single; don’t listen to Benjamin; don’t listen to Helen; grab your man and runaway with him… the answers are a dime a dozen. But like Manny always says; hindsight was always smarter than foresight, and sometimes we just have to live and learn. Our journey was anything but easy for a long time. If I ever need any reminders, I have the journals to attest to that. Together we survived police departments that harassed our community and a legal system that persecuted it. We witnessed the first establishments that catered to homosexuals and the riots with the police as a result. We witnessed the beginning of the gay liberation and attended the first Gay Pride march. People were starting to see we were not sociopaths after all. But soon after we thought that we were safe, many of our friends began to die, victims of a merciless murderer that targeted men like us. Manny and I lived through all that. It was never easy, but it was worth it. On a personal level the journey was even more difficult. Many years were dedicated to the search for an ex-wife who didn’t believe I deserved to see my son, and many others praying to God for guidance, as we didn’t know how was best to proceed once I found my son. It all paid out at the end. Today I feel blessed. Today I celebrate my union with the man I fell in love with the moment I saw him. A man that even after all this time has but to look at me in order to set me ablaze. Today I celebrate surrounded by friends, family, my daughter in law, my son and my grandson. I never dared to entirely believe this day would some time come. We met forty-seven years ago in this tropical paradise we now call home. Our friends at the time thought the affair would only last as long as the summer vacation, but Manny and I always knew ours was the love of a lifetime. I’ll drink to that.

The End

About the Author

Taylor V. Donovan is a compulsive reader and author of m/m romantic suspense. She is optimistically cynical about the world; lover of history, museums and all things 80s. She is crazy about fashion and shamelessly indulges in mind-numbing reality television; passionate about civil rights and equality for all. When she is not making a living in the busiest city in the world or telling the stories of gorgeous men hot for one another, Taylor can be found raising her two daughters and two terribly misbehaved fur babies in the mountains she calls home. Taylor's first novel, Six Degrees of Lust, is being published by MLR Press. Release date coming soon.

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