Page:Jay Little - Maybe—Tomorrow.pdf/232

 grief. "Oh, Gay … the whole thing is a mess. It breathes of loathsomeness." He sighed deeply and looked tenderly into Gaylord's startled eyes. "Be careful, my little Gay. You're the kind they like to catch. The kind they like to take up to some damned doctor, who's generally the biggest faggot of us all, and have him pump you with stupid questions, trying to make you all the time … Then, he always wants to give shots … Shots … He wants to change you … God knows they can't … I've had them."

"Paul?"

"What?"

"What's a faggot?"

"A faggot … don't you know what a faggot is?"

Their cheeks touched with a shuddering continuous laugh. Paul gripped Gaylord tightly in his arms.

"I guess I'm just dumb."

"Oh … Gay … I'm sorry … Here I've been talking like a condemned old man … I thought you knew all about … well about faggots and gay life."

"You sound like you know what you're talking about. How old are you, Paul?"

"I'm twenty-seven … and I don't know if I'm right or wrong … I get carried away sometimes … and I didn't want you to get mixed up with all this mess … I'm sure of one thing though … I know what a faggot is … a faggot is the name one feminine boy calls another … Now do you know what a faggot is?"

"I think I do … I …"

"Let's forget this serious stuff … I'm sorry I got so rattled … You know what a faggot is … you know how one works?"

"No …"

"I'll show you … How's that …?"

Gaylord gazed at Paul. What could he say to that? Paul touched his hair, adjusting the wave on his head. Then he reached down and put his hands behind his neck, locking them there. "Gay …" he whispered …

"Is this the way a faggot works?" Gaylord tried to grin. Paul gave him a quick kiss and sat up … "Stinker … Here I was trying to make love to you." 222