The Front Runner

psychiatrist seventy-five dollars a week."
    "Seduced you!" Vince's voice was breaking, incredulous. "You were moping around Eugene just dying for me to feel you up."
    "What you did was, you played on all my insecurities," said Jacques. "You're a really insidious person. You do that with everybody. You're just an operator."
    They went on and on, Jacques cutting and Vince bleeding. Finally we heard Vince crying. Billy and I looked at each other in the dark, and closed our eyes in sorrow and shame at having overheard.
    How long would Billy and I last? We had already had several quarrels. Each time, we were never sure we would make up until we'd actually done it.
    We tried hard to have a good time that weekend. I remember the tapping of Steve's typewriter echoing down the winding ladder stairway from the tower. I remember all of us cooking dinner together, and the drinking members of the party getting a little wrecked on Scotch and wine. We roasted a huge standing rib roast and Idaho potatoes. Billy made a bizarre salad.
    That Saturday night, a huge spring storm was blowing in, and the house shuddered as the wind hit it. The noise of the surf deepened to a bellow. After the dishes were washed, Billy and I pulled on our jackets and went out for a walk on the dark beach.
    We walked slowly along the sand, arms around each other, barefoot. The wind whipped Billy's bellbottoms around his ankles. His hair blew wildly and stung my cheek. In the dark, all we could see was the white
    rumbling surf, and the few lonely lights of the other houses.
    "I can't get Stevie's friend out of my mind," said Billy. "He messes up my dharma."
    "Mine too," I said.
    "You whipped people."
    "I whipped grown men who paid me $200 to do it," I said. "I never tortured any children."
    "Just looking at him, I think—I feel almost afraid, being happy with you. It could be taken away from us tomorrow."
    I stopped and turned him to face me. "What would you do if I died?" I asked.
    We were standing close together. I reached up gently and held the lapels on his leather jacket, and he clasped my wrists. I searched his face with my eyes. He looked so fine and so strange there in the dark, with the wind blowing his hair half across his face.
    "Jesus, I don't know," he said in a low voice. "I haven't wanted to think about that."
    "I hope we're lucky enough to die together," I said. "Like in an airplane crash or something."
    "If you die first, do you want me to kill myself?" he asked.
    I shook my head. "Suicide is a sin against God."
    "I'll kill myself if you want me to," he said.
    A black shock went through me. I could see him cutting his wrists or putting a pistol barrel in his mouth. I kept shaking my head, and found that I was trembling.
    "Look, let's face it," he said. "Someday we're both going to die. Probably separately, probably you first. We have to have peace in our minds about that. That's what Buddha taught. There's just no way you're not going to lose the thing you love most. Peace is what sets you free from death."
    "Do you feel you have that peace? I certainly don't."
    He shook his head now. "I have a very big dread about that. Do you—" He hesitated. "Do you ever think that something might happen to one of us soon?"
    "What do you mean?" My heart was beating wildly.
    "People hate you more because you're the older one. They see you as having corrupted me. I'm always scared to death that someone might try to get you. Send you a bomb in the mail or something. Please be careful."
    "But you're the one out there in plain sight. You're the one running."
    He smiled a little. "We're both out there in front. And they always try to kill the front-runner."
    We had to stop this depressing conversation. We walked on.
    "Actually, we're going to be reborn," said Billy, "so why are we stewing? I wonder where our karmas will take us next. Are we going to be straight? Women?"
    I was relieved at the opportunity to smile. "You mean you want to be reborn as a gay?" I shook him a little.
    He laughed, putting his arms around me. "Sure. As long as it's not as Steve's friend. Maybe I'll be reborn as your coach next time. Boy, have I got plans for you, Mr. Brown. You're gonna run 57-second quarters on your hands and knees."
    The first raindrops were wetting our faces. He kissed me the way he had that first time in Song of the Loon.
    I lost count of the times we made love that weekend. We were laying up treasures for the lonely months ahead.
    That night we slept with the