Beauty Queen

down the waterfront, smelling the rank smell of the river. They walked around on the Seaport Museum docks, and gazed up at the masts of the Peking, and Mary Ellen talked about her life too.
    They wound up in one of those dark little seafood restaurants, near the Fulton Fish market, and got a little smashed on white wine, and ate baked halibut fresh off the boats.
    Mary Ellen laughed, her cheeks a little flushed. "I'll tell you one thing about the last couple of months of my life. I never used to know anything about gay men. I sure have learned a lot. More than I ever wanted to know."
    "Oh, I never knew anything about lesbians either," said Bill. "I've learned a lot in the last two hours. It's a shame that we're always two worlds apart." He leaned back in his chair, realizing that he was a little drunk—far drunker than even a liberal Baptist should be. "You know, another crazy dream of mine . .
    "Dreams are not crazy," said Mary Ellen.
    "Okay, another dream of mine is to start a gay Baptist caucus in town. It's there crying out to be done."
    "So do it," she said. "What are you waiting for? Do it, and invite Jeannie to your first service."
    "I'd rather be boiled in oil than do that," said Bill, trying to signal the waiter for some coffee, so they could start sobering up.
    "You've got the perfect place for it," said Mary Ellen. "That little place on the comer there, right by your house. That used to be a shop or something." She giggled. "You could have your own storefront church."
    "That's not a bad idea," said Bill.
    "Liv and I'll help you. That is, if you'll accept the help of a renegade Presbyterian and an imported Lutheran."
    Bill threw back his head and laughed, a cathartic laugh that seemed to vent some of the tensions of the past couple of months.
    "Seriously," said Mary Ellen, "call Reverend Erickson and have it announced at MCC next Sunday. Do the same for MCC in New Jersey. Run an ad in the Voice. Liv and I can go around and put up notices. We'll rent chairs. What kind of an altar do you need?"
    Bill leaned across the table toward her, with a mock-serious look. "Before we go any further, my dear, I have to know just one thing. If you died today, are you sure you'd go to Heaven?"
    Mary Ellen was grinning through her glow of wine.
    "I'm more sure of it than I ever was in my life," she said.
    "Good," said Bill, grinning widely. "Because I can't possibly associate with infidels."
    Later that day, Bill called Marion at home.'! know I've been, uh, nothing to admire for a while," he told Marion. "But all that's going to change. If you can find it in your . . . heart to appreciate the change. I'd like ... to see you."
    Marion must have been struck speechless—he was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Bill, have you been drinking?"
    "Yes, I have," said Bill. "I just got drunk with a very lovely, uh, lesbian who has made me see the light of God's truth. It's amazing what three glasses of, uh, wine can do to a man."
    Marion was laughing.
    "Bill, you have no idea how funny you sound. I've never seen you drunk, and I don't want to miss it. Where are you?"
    "I'm at Sloppy Louie's, on South Street. My lovely friend just left, because her lover will be home from work. Why don't you . . . take a taxi over here?"
    Fifteen minutes later, Marion was getting out of a yellow cab in front of Sloppy Louie's.
    As Bill watched Marion walk stiffly toward him, he realized all over again why he loved Marion. Laughing reckless Marion, the idol of the Grand Prix circuit, who was brave enough to drop out into a quiet and mundane life. Marion, who was brave enough to admit he was chicken. Marion, gay, though kissed by a thousand beautiful women as they handed him trophies. Only now, he felt, was he feeling the force of Marion's courage in his life—and this was through his decision to come out.
    The two men walked slowly south along the waterfront, into the deep shadow under the Brooklyn Bridge, then out into the sunlight beyond again. Bill managed to convey to Marion the information that he was organizing a little Baptist caucus in the store on the comer of the South Street block, and that he was going to invite Jeannie.
    "You mean you're not going to tell her beforehand?" said Marion. "You're just going to have her come and find out . . . like that?"
    "That's . . . right," said Bill.
    "What do you think she'll do?" said Marion.
    "Probably tear me limb from limb," said Bill. "You must meet Mary Ellen. Wonderful girl. Wish I'd had a