(by Edward Zeusgany and Alex Anders, © copyright 1999, all rights reserved)

His father, Clark, was the black sheep of the family. Although he had become a lawyer, like the rest of them; he had gone into civil rights law to protect minorities rather than join the clan’s firm of corporate defenders. Further alienating his parents and siblings, he had married a no account Canadian tart, according to them. In this they proved right. Sheila had left without a trace when Donald was five. For the next nine years the boy lived with his father and an elderly, live-in housekeeper.

One morning, while commuting to downtown Los Angles on his motorcycle, Clark’s rear wheel was nicked by an exhausted truck driver in a hurry. He was dead on arrival at the hospital. The emergency information card in his wallet named his eldest brother as next of kin and provided the phone number. After hearing the unhappy news, Nelson immediately called the head of a law firm in LA with whom he had done business. This gentleman arranged for a retired senior partner to go to Donald’s school and to take charge of the situation.

Being summoned to the school office generally meant that routine information was wanted, but Donald knew something was up when he was greeted by the Principal in a rather somber manner and was brought immediately into the inner office, where he was introduced to a very well dressed older man. Mr. Thornton looked the way he supposed a person’s grandfather ought to look. The boy didn’t know because he had never met either of his grandfathers.

Mr. Thornton drove him home in a big, black car that smelled new. Donald went to his room, where he slept and cried for the rest of that day and the next. A doctor came and told him that he was OK. Mrs. Johnson, the housekeeper brought him little snacks that he didn’t have to eat right away, but could leave until he wanted something. Donald knew that there were a lot of strangers in the house because he could hear their voices, specially when he was in the hall on the way to or from the bathroom.

The day following, he spent some time downstairs, but whenever someone tried to be solicitous he had to go back to his room. Only now he couldn’t sleep. Donald was no longer protected by unconsciousness from thoughts of the immensity of his loss and the uncertainty of his future. He had loved his father very much. Only now did he realize how much.

On his short ventures beyond the confines of his bedroom, he learned that the funeral would be the next afternoon and that his Uncle Nelson would arrive at the house that morning. Mrs. Johnson set out clothes for him to wear; his dark green sport coat, light gray shirt and trousers, dark red tie, black socks and loafers, clean underwear. Mr. Thornton explained the schedule, a morning trip to the funeral parlor, lunch, funeral back there at two, internment at the cemetery, followed by a reception at a down town hotel.

*****

Donald was dressed and ready when his uncle arrived from the airport in a limousine. The boy knew that he had met his Uncle Nelson once, a very long time ago, but had no recollection of the event. The thin, gray haired, distinguished man, a shade under the average height, was, in effect, a stranger. On the other hand, he was also the only person the lad knew at all who was a blood relation to him. So when his uncle entered the house, came directly to him and offered his arms rather than the handshake Donald had been expecting, the youngster accepted the embrace without hesitation.

After speaking quietly and briefly with some of the lawyers in attendance, half being colleagues or acquaintances of his father and half associates or employees of his uncle, uncle and nephew had a private conference in what had been Clark’s study. “Your father’s will nominates me to be your guardian, Donald. Is that all right with you?” he asked.

And what if it isn’t, flashed through the boy’s mind. “Sure,” he said. He was aware of no other option and had no reason to object in any case. Then, realizing that this was not a duty his uncle might have sought or wished for, he added, “Thank you.”

“Your welcome, Donald. I have to get back tonight so we’ll be leaving for the airport right after the reception. I’ll have your things packed up and sent out in a few days, but you might want to bring a few special things with you. Why don’t you see to that now. We’ll be leaving here in about an hour.”

*****

The boy hadn’t envisioned the prospect of leaving his room and his home, abruptly and forever. Perhaps it was best not to have had time to think about it. Donald looked about. What did he need to keep with him, he wondered. None of the things that had seemed important to him a week ago appeared now to have any particular value. He picked up a paperback almost at random and stuck it in the carry on bag that Mrs. Johnson had given him along with a smothering, goodbye hug.

It was a long, hard day. The plane left the gate at 6:35 p.m. and arrived after 2 a.m. local time. The baggage was delayed, so they had to wait in yet another limousine until the porters appeared with the luggage. Then there was a long ride to Uncle Nelson’s estate which was located in a suburb on the other side of the city from the airport. Drowsy, Donald swayed with the turns, closed his eyes for a moment and fell asleep with his head resting against his Uncle’s shoulder. When they arrived home, one of the staff helped the half conscious boy to his room.

It was nearly noon when Donald heard a tap on the door and the sound of its opening. Opening his eyes fully for the first time that day, the youngster watched as a nice looking young man entered and began to pick up the clothes that he had dropped in his haste to get into bed the night before.

“Good morning, Donald,” the young man announced. “I’m Corey. Perhaps you don’t remember me from last night. You were pretty out of it.”

Donald was a little embarrassed. He wasn’t used to having someone waltz into his room and handle his things. Corey was going through his trouser pockets and putting the contents on a small desk situated in the far left corner of the room.

“You have your own bathroom through that door.” Corey motioned with his free hand, indicating the place. “There’s a robe and slippers in the closet. Your uncle’s tailor will be over after lunch. He’s bringing some ready made stuff to get you though a few days. I’ll be back in about half an hour to bring you some lunch.” The young man left taking the youngster’s clothes with him. Donald was glad he had slept in his underwear or they might be gone too, he supposed.

Shortly after dining on a BLT, milk, a fresh pear and two cookies, that Corey had set out on the desk top, the tailor arrived. Mr. Kunzig entered carrying several boxes and a long, thin paper bag over one arm. “Your uncle has all his clothes made for him. And wants the same for you, of course. But that will take a while. So these,” he said, indicating the packages, “are just a stopgap.”

Mr. Kunzig had Donald try on a pair of chinos and a plaid shirt with a button down collar to make sure that they fit well enough. The youngster felt the tailor watching him closely as he changed, but he supposed that it was a professional necessity. After he was dressed in the new clothes and had put on his loafers, over bare feet due to the fastidious Corey, Mr. Kunzig took measurements, a great many more than Donald was used to. He realized, though, that those were for minor modifications of a ready made suit, not wholly hand made clothing. He even had the boy remove a loafer in order to measure his foot.

“Well, I did bring underwear and socks,” the tailor said, in apparent self deprecation, as he was holding Donald’s foot in his hand. “But you wont need to try them on for me,” he commented, to the boy’s relief. “The shirt and pants are OK. Corey is a good judge of size. Maybe I can persuade him to become my apprentice.” Mr. Kunzig laughed as though that were a good joke.

The tailor left and Corey returned. The young man gave Donald a tour of the house and grounds. His uncle wanted him to feel at home and to use the facilities, Corey explained. It was fine to visit the greenhouse or the kitchen and to exchange a pleasant word with members of the staff, but to remember that they had work to do.

If he wanted anything to eat or drink between meals, he should ask the butler. Corey introduced him to Mr. Dunlop, a tall, thin, very quiet man. There were also two maids and a butler’s assistant, Roger. If Donald called for something at night, it would be Roger who would attend to it. The chef, kitchen help, gardener and maids lived off the estate. The chauffeur had an apartment over the garages, Mr. Dunlop and Roger shared an apartment on the top floor. These were private quarters and it was only proper to visit if invited.

On the other hand, Corey said, he was available for a chat almost any time. His position was that of personal assistant to Donald’s Uncle Nelson. However, his uncle was away much of the time and Corey was glad to have someone else to look after. His room was in the basement, near the mini gym and sauna.

There was a tennis court, Corey told him, but beneath six inches of snow right now. The pool, however, was covered, had removable clear plastic sides, and the water was heated to just seventy degrees. Unless the sun was shining, the air temperature wasn’t very high. “Then it’s fine for laps, but not for lounging about,” Corey advised. “I’ll have to call Jack Kunzig and ask him to bring you a bathing suit. You never know who Nelson is going to show the pool house to.”

While telling Donald about these facilities, Corey was showing him the dining room and the small sitting room where they would set up dinner for a group of four or less. His uncle, the young man explained, preferred to take afternoon tea in the library. He would do so today and was expecting Donald to join him. His uncle’s study was off the library. The young man pointed to the closed door. They proceeded to a huge living room that had fireplaces at each end.. The furniture was arranged in four distinct clusters over the largest oriental rug Donald had ever seen.

*****

Tea was at four. Donald arrived at one minute before and the door to his uncle’s study opened at one minute after. “Take a seat, Donald,” Uncle Nelson proposed, indicating with his hand the one across from the tea pot. “I’ll pour.”

The boy sat. “Milk or lemon?” his uncle asked. Donald had never heard of having milk in tea so he asked for lemon. The man slid the sugar bowl in his direction. “I’ll let you add your own sugar,” he said. Donald took three heaping teaspoons, as Nelson thought he might. He had milk and one sugar himself.

“Help yourself to crackers and spread.” Nelson did not care for sweet things in the afternoon. The concoction of the day was minced black olives, grated cheese and herbs. Donald tried a tiny bit. Deciding that he liked it, he took more on a second cracker.

“I know these are lot of changes for you, Donald. I hope you’re comfortable. Is you room OK?” his uncle asked him.

“Yes. Thank you,” the youngster replied.

“I don’t think I should send you off to school right away. It would be better for you to stay here, get used to this being your home. I’ll find you a tutor for the time being, and then you can go to Lawrenceville in the fall. That’s where your father went, his father and grandfather. Does that sound all right to you?”

“I don’t know if I would be admitted to Lawrenceville,” Donald mused. He knew it to be a very selective prep school.

“Your grades and test scores are good enough, Donald. And you’ve already been admitted. They know very well how to nurture a young man like yourself.”

The boy’s head spun at the speed with which things could be arranged.

*****

Donald’s uncle went out for the evening, so that night Donald dined with Corey in the small sitting room. “Your uncle often has guests for dinner, but I suppose that sometimes it will just be the three of us,” the young man informed the boy. “When he has family over, I wont be included, and when he has business dinners, neither of us will be. Which is a very good thing as far as I’m concerned,” he tagged on at the end.

After dinner they went to the media room, where there was a large screen TV. Corey said that it was Donald’s turn to choose a movie. The teenager removed ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’ from the racks of videos, and asked Corey if that was all right with him. It was. The youngster wanted to watch something familiar that held no surprises for him.

The following morning Donald spent in the library. It was arranged like a book store, with sections labeled history, fiction, art, reference. The boy poked around for a while, then decided to choose something to read. He wondered if he was required to read his selection there or if it was all right to take a book to his room. If that was allowed, did he have to sign it out somehow? He decided to ask Corey later and for now do his reading there.

At lunch, Corey told him that he could take books to his room. In the unlikely event that his uncle would want one of them, they could be found easily enough. A book or magazine found anywhere else would be returned to the library by one of the maids. “So, if you put anything down it may not be there when you look for it,” Corey chuckled. He gave Donald the message that his uncle would be expecting him again for tea that afternoon.

The youngster took several books to his room. Donald was sprawled on his bed reading, when he heard a rap on the door. Opening, he found a tall, thin, blond lad who held out a package. The older youth introduced himself with, “Hi, I’m Roger.”

Donald took the proffered paper bag. “It’s your bathing suit,” Roger informed him, stepping into the room. “A speedo, maroon. I looked. Hmm, It’ll bring out the red highlights in your hair. Oh! I’m studying hair styling. Kunzig sent it over. Are you going swimming? I’m on my own time now. I work evenings and am on call at night. Can I practice on you? You have nice hair.”

“Do you cut my uncle’s hair?”

“That’ll be the day. Corey says he’ll let me do his sometime. Maybe in the spring, so if he doesn’t like it he can just get it cut short for summer. Sometimes I use the pool weekdays or whenever your uncle or guests aren’t using it. If I’m off, that is. Do you mind if I swim when you are?”

“Of course not,” Donald said, meaning that he didn’t mind at all.

Roger smiled happily. “Do you want to go now?” the older boy asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” Donald answered.

“OK. Well I’ll put your name on a locker in the dressing room Do you want me to put your suit in the locker?”

Donald took the nylon bathing suit out of the bag. It was sealed in clear plastic. He looked to see how to open the package.

“Give it here,” Roger said. Taking it, he brought it to his mouth and used his teeth to make a tear. He handed it back.

Donald finished opening the package and took the suit out. Then he removed a tag and tossed the debris in the waste paper basket that was beside the desk. He placed the suit in front of himself at the waist and looked at it. It seemed OK to him.

“Hmm, nice,” Roger observed. “Are you sure you don’t want to try it out?”

“Yeah,” the youngster confirmed, handing the suit back to older boy. “Thank you,” he said.

“OK. If you can’t sleep some night, be sure to call for some hot milk or cocoa. That’s what I’m here for. If you ask for two cups, I can have one with you,” Roger slyly added just before leaving and taking Donald’s bathing suit with him.

*****

Donald’s uncle had another guest for tea that afternoon. They came out of the study together a few moments after four o’clock. The very thin and elderly man was introduced to him as Professor French and was to be his tutor. Lessons wouldn’t begin for another week, but his uncle wanted them to become acquainted.

After tea and after his uncle had retired to his study, Prof. French interviewed his student. He asked Donald to tell him about each of the classes he had been taking, what had been covered in each, what assignments had been given, what books had been used. Then he gave Donald the assignment to write two versions of his own future; one representing the life he would like to have and the other being the life he expected to have.

Having nothing better to do that evening, Donald began thinking about writing his essays. He knew how revealing they could become, so his first step was to decide how he wanted to present himself to this stranger with whom he was going to be in close contact for some time. The second one was easy, it would be about becoming a lawyer. In it he would accept the life that his family, what was left of it, expected of a Jameson.

It was the first that was difficult. What did he really want anyway? And how much of it would he want to tell his uncle via the Professor? He didn’t want to seem dull, nor did he want to appear to be too clever. While he had many talents, and supposed that there was nothing that he couldn’t do, he was not passionate about any particular occupation.

*****

The following morning, Mr. Kunzig was back for fittings. Donald was in and out of his clothes half a dozen times while the tailor made marks and stuck pins. The man seemed to the boy to be too much of a perfectionist.

While he worked he asked Donald what sports he liked. In fact, the lad was rather indifferent to spectator sports. Nor did he participate in organized athletics, although his physical abilities were somewhat above average. He supposed that he would have to do something in prep school, soccer perhaps. Then again, he did like swimming.

That thought led him to use the pool for the first time. At first he had the place to himself and did several slow laps of the crawl. He had received routine lessons from a Red Cross instructor, not competitive coaching, so his technique was recreational. Then he did one lap as fast as he could. When he stopped at the other end, out of breach, he found Corey standing there right above him at the edge.

“Hi,” he offered. Corey, in white trunks, had a trim and solid body, was of average height and had short, curly, dark blond hair. Donald considered him to be handsome.

“Hello,” the youngster brightly responded.

Without further word, Corey mounted the diving board, made an expert approach and bounced high several times on the end, each time returning to the board. Then he dismounted, went to the edge of the pool and splashed water on himself. After this preparation, he returned to the diving board and executed a front one and one half somersault in pike position, landing a bit short. It looked perfect to Donald, who was impressed.

After swimming a few more slow laps, he watched Corey perform a series of dives. Some began with the young man standing at the end the board his back to the water. Some were twisting dives, for others the young man spun like a ball.

“That was really good,” Donald complemented his uncle’s assistant, when he took a rest.

“Not really,” the fellow protested. “I’m way out of practice. When I was in college, I was pretty good. But now …, so so.”

“It looks good to me,” the boy insisted.

“You could be a diver,” Corey suggested.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re too small to be a swimmer. All the top swimmers are really big; tall, long legs, long arms, big hands, big feet. The best divers are average sized guys. With good coordination, of course, good sense of balance. Really short guys are better off being gymnasts. But average height and build is good for a diver. One can get into a tight tuck, but still have the height to look impressive when you hit your entry.”

Donald didn’t say anything to this. “Think about it, and if you want to learn, I’ll teach you,” Corey offered, before jumping into the pool and beginning his own set of laps.

Later Roger joined them, flailing about, all elbows and knees, making a lot of splash and little headway. But he seemed to be enjoying himself more than the other two. He grinned and talked and choked on the water.

Corey and Roger left at the same time. The youngster stayed in the pool for a further quarter hour. Then he dried off and dressed for lunch.

*****

His uncle had yet another guest for tea that afternoon. They came out of the study together a few moments after four o’clock. Dr. Baynaud took milk and one sugar, the same as his uncle. Donald stuck with lemon and three sugars.

“You shouldn’t have too much sugar, my boy,” Dr. Baynaud said in more of a friendly than an admonishing tone.

“The Doctor is my personal physician, Donald,” Uncle Nelson explained. “Since he’s here today, I’ve asked him to give you a check up.”

Everything gets sprung on me, the youngster thought, it just pops up. Because no response seemed to be required, he didn’t give any. Instead he took a flaky roll that had chunks of tasty salami baked right into it. He noticed with satisfaction that the Doctor took two.

The two men talked for a while about the latest recommendations concerning vitamins. Donald tuned out. His mind followed a path of its own devise, one that a few minutes later he could not have retraced.

Suddenly, tea was finished. Uncle Nelson rose from his chair. “You can use my study,” he was saying to the Doctor. Then he left the library by way of the other door.

“Come along, my boy” Dr. Baynaud urged.

Ill at ease, Donald proceeded the Doctor into the room that he had only glimpsed before. It was dark, wood paneled, and reeked of power and money. A small black bag was parked next to a straight backed, wooden, arm chair on the visitor’s side of the large desk. Dr. Baynaud turned this sideways and sat down.

“Take everything off, son,” he decreed.

Donald knew that a man would call him “son,” or “my boy,” in order to establish a fatherly and dominant relationship, justifying a greater degree of intimacy than they would otherwise enjoy and making him more respectful and compliant. What annoyed the teenager most about this, is that it worked on him in spite of his understanding its operation and intent. He stripped.

The man looked into his ears with one device and into his eyes with another. He stuck out his tongue. Watched as the doctor heated up his stethoscope with his own warm breath.

“Do you spend much time in the sun?” the man asked.

“Sure. In the summer.”

“Get sunburned?”

“Sometimes.”

“Badly?”

“Not like some.”

“Bad enough to blister?”

“On my nose a few times.”

“Avoid any sunburn in the future. Use whatever strength of sunscreen you have to and limit your exposure. Sunburns you get when you’re young can lead to cancerous lesions years later. I’d better do a through check of your skin.”

Dr. Baynaud proceeded to do just that and more in a very thorough physical examination.

*****

That night Donald did have trouble getting to sleep. He thought it would be soothing to use the sauna, that the heat and damp would make him drowsy. In his imagination he put on his slippers and went down to the basement, removed his pajamas, wrapped a towel around his waist, and opened the heavy glass door. The steam made him feel like he was suffocating, but he knew he wasn’t. He sat on the bottom bench and relaxed. The sauna began to have its effect. After ten minutes or so, he lay down on the bench and closed his eyes.

Then he heard a light noise. He wasn’t alone. Someone was in the dark corner of the upper bench. Too tired to move, he remained still. He thought he could hear someone breathing. The steam came on and he heard nothing. Then the youngster felt a tremor in the bench as though, perhaps, someone had changed position above him. Was it Corey, Mr. Dunlop or maybe a guest like the tailor, the doctor, the professor? It could be someone his uncle had invited whom he hadn’t met. Could it be his uncle, himself?

The person, whoever it was, was descending to the bottom level, was close to him now. Donald remained motionless. He imagined that the person was kneeling beside him, that he sensed the other’s breath on his skin. Then the person’s hands touched him, searching for the end of the towel where it was tucked , loosened it, moved the material aside, leaving the boy exposed. So, instead, Donald shook off this elaborate fantasy and took Roger up on his suggestion to call for a cup of hot cocoa.

The door was lightly tapped, then opened by the older lad carrying a tray with a steaming pot and two cups. “It’s me,” he twitted. “I saw Dr. Letch here, did you get goosed? He’s a good doctor, but I don’t think young guys really need to have their prostates checked. He does all of us, of course. Physicals, I mean,” he giggled, “… and whatever we need.”

“I thought he just wanted to see how tight I was,” the youngster commented.

“How tight are you? Oh, my, I can’t believe I asked that. Don’t tell me unless you want to. That’s funny. Everybody’s been so careful, for them. They all thought you were as innocent as a babe.”

“My Dad told me about Uncle Nelson. It never dawned on him that I could be gay, too.”

“You are? So, which one of them do you like? Corey’s cute. They’ll be lots more to choose from once they know they don’t have to be afraid of shocking you. Your uncle’s been keeping traffic to a minimum.”

“I like boys younger than me,” Donald said.

Roger’s momentary look of disbelief quickly gave way to mock sadness. “They’ll be stunned, not to mention disappointed,” he commiserated. “A baby chicken hawk. Who’d have thought it.”

“I want you to keep it to yourself.”

“You want me to keep a secret? Do you think I can?”

“Yes. I think you’re my friend.”

“I am. So, you’re really tight then. I’m not. …”

*****

At prep school, Donald did well academically. Prof. French had taught him how to study, something none of his previous teachers had manged. By his second year, he was diving competitively and was the top diver his senior year. This gave him status with the freshmen he most wanted to impress.

The lad went on to Princeton, where he was never more than the number two diver on the swimming team. Donald volunteered his services at the local Y in order not to be cut off from the younger teenagers he preferred. He continued to excel in his studies.

Donald maintained his youth work while in law school. After graduation he joined the family firm, only after exacting an agreement that he could give half of his time pro bono to defend the civil rights of indigents. The alternative, he told his uncle, was for him to go into personal injury law right there in Philadelphia and make heavy use of the family name.

Uncle Nelson only wished that his youngest brother had been half as clever. But, perhaps it wouldn’t have done any good. The times were different then and their overly strict father was still alive. The old man night have had him killed.

In due course, Donald inherited his uncle’s estate. Roger became the butler when Mr. Dunlop lost his eyesight, but nobody told Mr. Dunlop. Corey stayed on in semi-retirement. Donald got his suits from Kunzig and Son. His new physician had been on the staff at Lawrenceville, but had to leave for some reason. Professor French was no longer among the living, but there were several young academics among Donald’s confidants.

A number of promising but poor youngsters from the city had the advantage of being mentored by Donald. They each were awarded Jameson scholarships at Lawrenceville.

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