June 1969
Mike
I sipped a mint-lemon drink in a well-lit, mostly empty bar. The lighting alone made it different from my first one. No shadows, sticky floor, or watchful eyes. This place didn't reek of danger. Instead of throbbing music and tight-packed bodies, there was open space, cool air, and faint jazz trickling from unseen speakers. It didn't feel like a place to hook up. It felt like a place to think and talk to two friendly men who had already introduced themselves.
A man in his forties who seemed European and maybe Jewish stared down with a slight smile. David's black hair, parted down the middle, hung past his ears. He held it back with a white cloth headband.
I had forgotten to ask the bartender at the other bar what cocktail she made. This mix wasn't what I expected, but still enjoyable.
"You like, yes?" he said with an accent that now hinted at French. There was no way I'd guess his nationality.
His lover was Abraham, a Black man with a dark-grey tank top and a leather biker cap. A white towel lay across his right shoulder. Both were slender with lean muscles. I guessed Abraham as a forty-year-old too.
On the bar, behind liquor bottles, sat a black-and-white photo that couldn't be more than five years ago. The photograph featured a white wedding cake with two plastic groom toppers. "You'remarried?"
"Well," said David with a sly grin, "we can't make it official at city hall, but yes, in our hearts, we're married where it matters."
Abraham draped his arms over David, and his fingers tickled his lover's nipples.
"My love," whispered David with a laugh. "We have company!" Light and dark skin pressed, reminding me of a Yin and Yang symbol painted on a VW bus I rode in earlier.
"Yeah," said Abraham with a rich baritone, "but it's nice to not have to hide." He gestured to me. "Don't worry. He's a good kid."
I imagined they could be together in a gay bar, but maybe not.
David's expression turned serious, sensing my thoughts. "Yes, it's very sad. I have to say he's my tenant and this I do not like."
"Sorry."
David's semi-French accent grew stronger. "There is good. We have a door leading to my place."
"Sometimes I take the back way." His lover leered with a lingering smile.
David stared back with a mock open-mouth look.
They were unusual and not because of the color combination. I enjoyed what happened in the bar with Todd, but I wanted a taste of this life. A husband sounded so nice. "How long have you two been together?"
Abraham spoke first. "Unofficially, fifteen years."
Hishusbandgestured to the photo. "We decided to make it official five years ago, or as much as we could."
"So, this life is possible." I pointed to them both.
I told them about Todd, and I left out the more descriptive details. They stared with no judgment. The sly smiles suggested they had similar experiences.
I described Todd's muscles, lean fit body, serious expression, and haircut that might as well have been shaven. A few times I added 'attractive' and 'really hot.' I had his ID, giving me a photo and proof he lied about his name.
"Oh, he's cute!" said David, and Abraham agreed.
"Yeah, and I don't know anything about him," I said.
Abraham lifted his leather cap, running a hand over his short black hair. "Your young man looks like one of those ROTC people. You know the ones in the army?"
Yeah, he does. It might be a problem.I held the driver's license next to me. "So what do you think? Could we be a couple?"
"Here's the thing." Abraham folded his arms over his tight grey tank top. "Ain't nobody going togiveyou what you want, so you have to take it." He pointed out to no one, but the entire world. "You think people out there like the idea of two men together. Especially us?"
A recent Supreme Court case allowed interracial marriage, but only between men and women. Even in their… our community, they had to hide or maybe they didn't. The wedding photocouldbe in their apartments instead, but it was here, on display behind liquor bottles.
