Teddy did not want to go to the wedding.
It was not because he was anti-social (although he could be withdrawn) or because he had contempt for the institution of marriage (although he did).
He was twenty-five. He was back in school after several years out selling furniture in a big-box, assemble-it-yourself mega-store. He had tests coming up, tests that would determine whether he would stay in school and build himself a future different from his past or whether he would have to crawl back beaten into a past that had kept him diminished and dependent.
So he put on his tuxedo Saturday morning with a certain gloomy sense of defeat. He should be staying home studying. But Mother insisted. She would not hear it when he tried to explain that the tests were important, that school was important, that he needed a clear mind and time to study. There was nothing he could do.
Going to school was not the same as working.
She frowned reproachfully as she said it.
It was like being on vacation.
She laughed bitterly.
She always came back to that. There was nothing he could say. When she made her demands, he could only capitulate.
He felt his hands becoming fists. He wished he could feel those fists around the handlebars of his motorcycle. He needed to feel its speed vibrating in his muscles as he tore through the port streets at speeds far higher than legal. But he'd sold it for money to help pay for school and for living while he went without a paying job.
If he had looked in the mirror, he would have seen a handsome youth looking back at him, a boy he should have been happier to be than he was, well wrought, forward yet shy, but he did not look in mirrors. There were none hanging on the walls. For shaving, he used a piece of an old disk of a mirror. He saw little in it save the patch of skin he was shaving. To shave the rest of his body -- he liked how he felt smooth -- he did not need a mirror. Nor did he need one to see when he combed his hair since it was cut very close to the scalp. It looked good. His skull was just shaped like that. Whatever he did it looked good.
His mother gasped when she saw him as he opened the door for her. She almost forgot where she was.
My handsome son, she said dazed.
What lay beneath her exclamation remained beneath...until in bitter moments it exploded.
He had a disturbing beauty that reminded her of his father before he left her, them, her, before he left her. It was rough and soft and fierce and tender.
She liked to see men strong but not self-sufficient. She needed them to need her. That gave her power over them, the power to command, the power to demand their service. The thought that their need for her, her son's need, her husband's need, that their need for her might be less than her need for them to need her caused her episodes of panic fear and actual physical pain.
She held men by the need for her she could establish in them. But she could only hold them by weakening them. And then she became frustrated by their failures. And then she'd make angry demands on them that were unfulfillable but confirmed her importance because of their incapability.
She held on. Men confused her. She was thrown between ecstasy and despair. Lately she had more often felt despair.
Her hand reached up, nearly reached up, to stoke his handsome cheek. She held back, being a woman vigorous in her power to control. It gave everything she did a commanding aspect. She withheld the caress. It frightened her.
Teddy saw that panic but thought it was annoyance.
You're not going to go into a corner again and refuse to say anything, she said, recovering herself by inventing a reproach.
If I said anything you wouldn't like what I'd say, he shot back with a sense of bitter defeat.
That's what I mean, she said triumphant. What gives you the right to think that you're better than other people?
I don't think I'm better than other people. I didn't say that. I don't think I'm worse, either. I'm different. These particular other people...
You know I don't know what you are talking about, she interrupted. All I know is that you can behave with my family and everyone else a little better than you do, including Larry.
Larry!
Larry. Can't I ever have something for myself but you have to spoil it? Why are you so hostile to him?
How am I hostile to him? he said.
This is not the time for this, she said, digging her upper teeth into her lower lip. We'll be late. You're driving. Don't speed.
He took the keys to her car from her, and held the door for her as she got in the passenger side, as she had trained him to.
Teddy explained to everybody who asked him that he was going back to school, that he hoped to practice labor law, that, no, he did not have a girl friend and that he really was not looking for one especially because he wanted to concentrate on school.
There's money in labor law? his Uncle Herbert, his mother's second cousin and the bride's father, a lobbyist for the pharmaceutical industry asked implying the unfortunate answer by the tone of his question.
Teddy looked at him and wanted to shout at him, but only answered, There are more things to a job than just making money.
Just making money, he snorted and shook his head.
With such thinking you expect to find a girl to marry, he said.
Before Teddy could answer someone not much older than himself, good looking and commandingly handsome in his tuxedo, who was holding a vodka sour and openly eavesdropping, interrupted the conversation.
We've met, he said to Teddy, who looked at him without a hint of recognition.
Of course, you don't remember, he said, slipping his arm around Teddy's shoulder and directed him towards the French window leading to the terrace. Naturally, he laughed, you don't remember something as it's happening. You can only remember it afterwards.
Teddy allowed himself to be led.
But what's happening? he said with a crafty grin.
This.
This?
This.
And with the last this, Gregory blew ever so gently a wave of warm breath on Teddy's neck and then left it to spiral through the canal of his ear.
Outside, the sky was darkening. A flight of steps led down from the terrace to a landscaped garden and a small, simulated woods.
Have we really met before? Teddy asked.
We're meeting now, Gregory said. I knew you didn't belong here when I saw you.
What?
This is not your scene.
A snort of laughter escaped as Teddy said, It's obvious?
It's obvious Gregory said.
How so?
But instead of speaking, by way of answer he took Teddy in his arms and kissed him on the mouth.
They had already come within the confines of the simulated woods around the hotel.
Teddy drew back and looked at the stranger, dazed, but not frightened, not at all frightened.
He knew this was it.
I have to be inside, he said.
I'm Gregory, the stranger said taking his hand and bringing it to his lips. Tell me your name.
Teddy.
Teddy. I have my car Teddy. We're already outside, Teddy.
He said the name slowly, ruminatively, lingering in it.
I have to go back in, Teddy said.
Gregory looked at him.
My mother, Teddy said, dropping his eyes.
You'd rather be with her than with me, Gregory said with the simulation of a pout.
Teddy's heart was taken.
No, he laughed. For sure I would rather be with you.
Then why are you letting your mother stop you?
Because she's like that.
And what are you like?
You're right, Teddy said. Most of the time I'm like how she tells me to be.
And I'm like this, Gregory said taking Teddy to him and kissing him again, not stopping until his command over the boy had established itself.
He took his lips away. Teddy gasped and fell against him.
Gregory touched his fingers to Teddy's lips and shook his head.
What are you like? Gregory said.
I think you know what I'm like, Teddy said.
Lowering his head, he added, But it's useless.
You want me.
I do, Teddy said.
My motorcycle is by the gate, Gregory said. Follow me.
But my mother...
Teddy did not say it.
He followed.
Gregory stretched his hand out.
Teddy took it.
They walked together secretly through the shrubbery. It was under a black sky with only a waxing crescent moon.
How could you have done such a thing? his mother hissed through angry teeth. First I was concerned, but then I was humiliated. I was embarrassed. I had been left stranded by my own son, having to beg for a ride and explain why I had to with some half-baked lie about your having to be home early to study and then justify it. And you could not care less how it felt when everyone saw my car was standing right there in the lot. What did you expect me to do? What could I tell them? And then I had to bear all their condescending sympathy.
Teddy said nothing.
When are you going to grow up, get a real job or go into the army and become a man and get married instead of this eternal going to school? she said.
Gregory held Teddy close and touched his lips with his own, and held his hard skull, thumb against the inion, in the palm of his hand.
It is alright, he said.
But you don't understand, Teddy said. Her life has been difficult.
Gregory answered, That does not give her the right to make yours difficult, too.
Of course he was right, and yet, he was not seeing something. It was typical of the way people who have broken traditional bonds usually miss the painful subtleties of which they disapprove.
Teddy rubbed his thumb and forefinger around the edges of the handle of his nearly empty coffee cup.
The same demons from which we flee function powerfully, nevertheless, in the network of interdependencies that form each relationship.
And then Gregory understood. The boy was bound, in pain, crippled. The mother who had crippled him, just because she had, had become indispensable to him. He was not afraid that he would collapse without her but that she would collapse without him.
The horror.
He said it to himself as he shook his head.
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