Harlan's Race

enjoy the sun and air, and not worry about me or my own being shot at.
    I hungered for a “normal life”.
    Was it possible to get back into personal running? The AAU had a new over-40 masters’ division. Just four months ago, I’d braved the screams of “Kill the fag!” to win the masters’ mile at Madison Square Garden. The victory had felt wonderful — I wanted more.
    Could I believe in something? I still attended a gay church in New York City. But my critics swore that Billy was now writhing in the flames of hell. It was time to decide if I should go on taking the Bible seriously.
    Could there be family life?
    Years ago, my ex-wife had barred me from seeing my two boys. Before Billy’s death, he and I had wanted a family. Gay parenting was still a new thing. But Betsy Heden had loved us enough to help us with it. After Billy’s death, she did insemination from a frozen semen sample, and became the mother of my lover’s child. The unwritten agreement was that Billy and I would have custody. John William was born eight months ago, on September 2,1977. Because of our notoriety, we’d kept the baby’s parentage a secret. Only Vince, John Sive, the Prescotts and I — and Cal Jacobs, the gay doctor who’d helped us — knew the truth.
    With Billy gone, Betsy now wanted to keep the baby. I felt responsible for John’s getting born, and wanted to live close to him and his mother. Maybe even marry her — if she was willing. But she’d already been so alarmed at the death threats, that she’d had Doc Jacobs destroy all the medical records relating to the baby’s conception. And she’d never acknowledged Billy’s fatherhood on the birth certificate.
    Chino’s gritty voice pulled my mind back to the present. “I think you’re wrong,” the Chicano was saying to me. “I can feel that second guy out there. Maybe he wants to get even for his buddy going to prison.”
    “Somebody’s money was behind the operation,” Harry added in. “Custom rifles cost.”
    “There are vigilante groups,” Chino pointed out, “who are heavy into paramilitary stuff.”
    “They’d off you because you’re a symbol,” said Harry. “I know, I know,” I said.
    But the two of them pounded away at me. ‘The next target might not be you,” said Harry. “It could be Joe, Betsy, Vince ...”
    They didn’t mention the baby, because they didn’t know the family secret.
    But I dug in my heels, and told them:
    “Effective today, I’m giving you guys your notice. Please don’t think I’m ungrateful. But I don’t want anybody babysitting me, or taking a bullet for me. I’ll be my own goddam bodyguard. School is out in a week, and I’m going to disappear ... let things cool down.”
    “Where?” John Sive demanded.
    “Fire Island. Spend the summer with Steve Goodnight.” Vince laughed with raunchy glee.
    “You call Fire Island disappearing?” he wanted to know. The two vets let their eyes rest briefly on Vince’s magnificent crotch, as if it was a Vietcong booby trap. “Don’t woriy,” I said. “I’ll manage.”
    “Steve isn’t exactly invisible,” added John. “Not after all the uproar about his last book.”
    “I’m going to look at the water,” I said, as if I hadn’t heard them. “Do some writing. I used to be a sportswriter . . . remember? I’d better have a back-up profession. What if Prescott fires me? What other school is going to hire me?”
    “Better take your .45,” Harry told me.
    “Sure,” I said recklessly. “The cops are pretty liberal in his part of the Island. They won’t like the idea of a nut shooting at summer people. We’ll be okay.”
    Harry shrugged. “I hope we don’t have to say I told you
    so.”
    John’s lips were pressed shut. His eyes were angry, remote.
    Only Chino’s eyes lingered on me, with a haunted anxiety.
    “If you need us, call us,” he said.
    Letting the bodyguards go did make me feel naked. A sniper had every advantage on his side. But my plan to disappear was all worked out.
    “Well,” said Harry, “that’s it, then. John, you heading for San Francisco?”
    “As fast as I can,” said John crisply.
    “Vince, where are you off to?” Harry asked.
    “New York City,” said Vince.
    “I hope that means you’re getting a job,” I said.
    “Got one already,” Vince shot back.
    “Doing what?”
    “Ram signed me for a film,” he said, just a little defensively.
    “A porno film,” I said.
    ‘Yeah.”
    At this news, the other three