of themselves from twenty or thirty years ago. They had the serene disregard of child emperors grown old. But this man was too perfect. No one went near him.
Will leaned on the bar, talking to a man named Rockwell. Rockwell was a ringer for Everett Dirksen. He wore a hothouse tulip in his lapel. “Must be some mistake,” he said, sipping at his daiquiri and nodding toward the man. “His feathers must've caught fire and he plopped down on Washington Street. It happens sometimes, you know. They fly too close to the sun.”
Will said, “I don't think he's real. I think he's a hallucination we're all having. It's mass hysteria, you get enough gay men together in one place and sometimes their dreams sort of, like, coalesce.”
“Oh, he's no dream, Willy. He's real, he's on the prowl. Trust me, he's out tonight looking for something.”
“Love,” Will said. “Love love love love love. What's anybody looking for?”
“Lots of things,” Rockwell said. He sang, “Most gentlemen don't like love, they just like to kick it around. Cole Porter, the sage of our century.”
“I don't know,” Will said. “We're afraid of love, don't you think? We say we want what we can get. If we can get laid, we say that's all we want. But really, don't you think everybody just wants to fall in love?”
“A very pretty view of human nature. Frankly, I half wish he'd go away. He's making me nervous. What does he want here? Just veneration, if you ask me. There are men like that. Admiration queens. I'll bet you the price of a drink he's going to go to a half-dozen bars tonight, speak to no one, and then go home and get off in front of a mirror.”
“Who knows?” Will said. “Do you think it's fair to judge somebody like that just because he's handsome?”
“Old crones have been passing harsh judgments on pretty young things since time immemorial. Those of us who were once pretty young things ourselves are usually correct.”
“He could just be here hoping to meet somebody. Why not?”
Rockwell said, “The Duchess of Windsor could be browsing Woolworth's hoping to find something she'd like, but the odds are she'd have an ulterior motive. How old are you, Willy? Aren't you about ready to shed your youthful idealism? Past a certain age, it's no longer becoming.”
“What will you give me if I go talk to him?”
“My undying respect.”
“If he turns out to be just a regular, decent guy, you'll have to buy me my drinks for the rest of the month. How's that?”
“All right. Go. Report back.”
Will took his beer and walked purposefully up to the man. It was the only way. He got courage from Rockwell, from the idea of being seen as someone heedless and courageous. He said, “Excuse me, but I have to ask. What are you doing here?”
“Huh?” The man's face was blunt, placid, deeply carved. He was Will's age, a little older.
“This bar is the exclusive province of sad old queens,” Will said. “I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave.”
“You're not an old queen,” the man said. He tilted his beer bottle to his lips. An oval of reflected light slipped along the bottle's shaft.
“I have visiting rights here,” Will said. “My name is Will.”
“Matt,” the man said. They shook hands. Matt wore a white dress shirt and pale blue corduroys, smelled too strongly of cologne. His hair, a lavish abundance of dark-blond curls, did not quite touch his collar.
“You really are getting everybody all upset,” Will said softly, conspiratorially. “You're too handsome for this place. You're making everybody else feel like they look the way they really do look.”
“Maybe I should leave,” Matt said.
A shock of uncertainty ran through Will. Was he driving the man off? He knew that when he was nervous he could be too slick, too clever, though he knew, too, that in a sense he did want this Matt to go. He was too finely wrought, too fortunate. The ease of his beauty hung awkwardly in the unfresh air.
“No,” Will said. “I didn't really mean it, I'm just trying, you know, to be clever.”
“I'm getting tired, anyway,” Matt said. “I have to get up in the morning.”
“Oh. Well.”
Matt yawned to illustrate his fatigue. A thread of clear saliva stretched from his upper to his lower teeth.
“I actually have to get up, too,” Will said. “I have to teach in the morning. I just came out for a quick beer with my aunts and uncles.”