The Marine Next Door

The Marine Next Door By Terry O’Reilly “Julian? Julian Reynolds?” Julian turned around to see who was calling his name. At first he didn’t recognize the man who was hurrying to catch up with him. When he got close enough for Julian to identify, Julian’s first reaction was to turn and run away. He would ask the same questions as all the others, and Julian didn’t want to go through all of that again. Not knowing what else to do, and feeling it would be rude to sprint away, Julian forced a smile and said, “Craig. Hi.” Craig, a slender, balding man in his forties, but dressed as if he were twenty-five, came up to Julian and hugged him. Julian took a steadying breath and hugged Craig back. When Craig released him and stepped back the anticipated barrage started. “When did you get back in town? How long will you be staying?” and most dreaded of all, “Where’s Virgil? Isn’t he with you?” Taking another deep breath, Julian launched into his explanation, for the third time that day, as to why he was in Mayfair. “Actually, I’ve been back for about three days and—” Craig interrupted, “Three days! Why didn’t you let me know you were here? Who else knows you’re here? Why hasn’t anyone bothered to tell me? I am your best friend, after all!” He looked hurt. So typically gay, Julian thought. One of the reasons I was willing to move away when Virgil suggested it in the first place, was to get away from all the drama and gossip. And as far as you being my best friend—that is purely self-proclaimed. “Well, I’ve been busy getting settled and—” Craig interrupted again, “Settled? You’ve moved back?” “Uh…yes I have. I’ll be teaching at Laughton Middle School—” A third interruption came from Craig. “Am I hearing this right? I thought you guys loved New York. Is Virgil okay with this? I know you were glad to get away from here, for some unfathomable reason. What about his job with the TV network?” “He still has it,” Julian answered, realizing he was being sucked into a lengthy explanation. “Is he going to commute? That’s one hell of a long drive!” “Virgil will be staying in New York.” “How is that going to work? Is he going to be here with you weekends? Are you going to go back to the city to be with him? What? Long distance relationships are so f*****g difficult. So, tell me!” Julian hesitated. He dropped his eyes. “No!” Craig said, covering his mouth dramatically with his hand. He stared at Julian. Julian knew what he was thinking. Julian and Virgil: the poster kids for monogamous, stable, gay relationships in Mayfair? This can’t be happening. “Okay, I need details. Come on. We’re going to Gilby’s,” Craig said, taking Julian by the arm and steering him into the nearby restaurant. “I really have some things I have to attend to,” Julian said feebly, knowing that it would do little good. “Not until you fill me in!” They went into Gilby’s. It was owned by a gay couple. The establishment was a restaurant by day and a gay bar by night. Julian had been there many times with Virgil. He cringed, knowing they might well run into more of his old friends and acquaintances. The host, a tall, lanky, effeminate young man, with a disinterested air, led them to a booth. If he had to do this, a booth would be Julian’s preference. The less conspicuous they were, the less likely he’d have to go over this again—at least for today. Of course he would have to unburden himself, reluctantly, to Craig. That meant it would be all over the gay community by that evening. They refused menus and ordered coffee. “All right, let’s have it, and don’t hold back. I’m here for you,” Craig said sympathetically, reaching out to cover Julian’s hands with his own. Julian had just opened his mouth to begin his tale, when another man walked up. “Oh, God! Julian!” the man exclaimed, literally dragging Julian out of the booth, engulfing him in a tight embrace. “I just heard about it from Ernie! How tragic! You poor baby! How are you holding up?” “I’m doing just fine, Stephen,” Julian said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice as he extricated himself from the man’s arms. “Putting on a brave front! So like our Julian.” Julian sat back down and Stephen slid into the seat next to him. “Julian was just about to tell me about it,” Craig said, irritation showing in his voice, evidently due to the fact that Stephen had gotten the story first. “Good,” Stephen said. “Then I haven’t missed anything.” Both Stephen and Craig leaned toward Julian, sitting on the edge of their seats. So much for a low-key return to Mayfair, Julian thought. “There isn’t much to tell,” he began. “Virgil and I just sort of drifted apart. He was busy with his work at the television station. He’s second chair news anchor for the local morning news. That meant he had to be up and out of the apartment by three. Had to be in bed by eight. By the time I got home after coaching the diving team and finished with grading papers, he usually was in bed. When he did have an occasional evening free, I was either at a swim meet or he was expected to be at some event representing the station. It got to the point it was like we were just roommates rather than lovers. We sat down and talked about it, and decided to go our separate ways.” There was more to it than that, but Julian didn’t want to share those details. When he finished, Craig and Stephen just looked at him as if he’d just sung the old Patti Page song, “Is that All There Is.” Julian knew they had expected, indeed wanted something more dramatic, like a tale of salacious cheating, or a story of how the grass is always greener, and either Julian or Virgil had found someone they’d rather be with, all leading to a tragic, heart-rending breakup. “Oh,” Stephen said finally. “So you just decided to go your separate ways?” disappointment clearly evident in his tone. “Yes. We’re still friends. Always will be,” Julian said, not sure that was an accurate accounting of their situation, but hoping it would quell further inquiries from either of the two men. “Who gets custody of the cat? I know you both loved her, or…was it him?” Craig asked as if hoping he could find one shred of crisis in the situation. “It’s them, Craig. There are two of them,” Julian said, resigned. “Whatever,” Craig said impatiently. Punkin and Patch were Virgil’s present to Julian on the first anniversary of moving to NYC. They were brother and sister. Punkin was a big orange tabby and his sister Patch was a calico, mostly white but with patches of orange and black, hence the names Punkin and Patch. “I’m taking Patch,” Julian said simply. “She’ll be here with me as soon as I get moved in. Virge will keep Punkin.” “Well, I’m glad you’re holding up so well,” Craig said sarcastically, almost as if he’d been further disappointed that there had been no heated custody battle. “So, where will you be living?” “I’m looking for something temporary. I have an appointment to look at a place this afternoon. After I’m here for a while, and I’m sure I’ll stay, I’ll find something more permanent.” “Good plan. Take time to heal, don’t make any rash decisions. Yes, I understand,” Stephen said sagely, putting an arm around Julian and laying his head on Julian’s shoulder. Not to be outdone, Craig reached out and took Julian’s hands in his. “Yes! And we’ll get that healing started right away, get you right back up on that horse, get you back in circulation. We’ll throw you a coming home party!” “Wonderful!” Stephen exclaimed. Julian groaned to himself. This was exactly what he’d hoped to avoid. Why did he choose to return here? He should have gone somewhere where no one knew his name, or who he was. “That’s not necessary. I really would rather not…” But neither Craig nor Stephen paid him any attention. They were arguing about the theme of the party, who should or should not be invited, and whether it should be held at Craig’s or Stephen’s. Julian sighed. Welcome back to Mayfair, he said to himself.