Vintage Rob

Chapter 25 - Heart to Heart

No one followed Rob down the inside stairwell. From the porch, he scanned the shadows stretching along the crammed residential street. Streetlights illuminated sections of the sidewalk at regular intervals. The dark night smelled of magnolias, and there were no movements other than tree leaves. Over the years, most of the houses in the neighborhood had been divided into apartments, but a retired couple of Italian ancestry, old-timers, still occupied the entire house next door. In the morning, they tended an elaborate garden on a small strip of land between the two houses. Rob examined the side of their dark house, looking for Mark's silhouette among the familiar shapes of shrubbery, vines, and picket fence. All clear, unless Mark slipped behind the houses and planned to come at him from behind.

A few houses away, someone wearing cowboy boots stepped into the half-light surrounding a post office box. The trim figure line-danced to the edge of the sidewalk, waved, and melted back into the shadows.

Rob did not know what to make of Mark's playfulness. Though messed in the head, Mark functioned reasonably well. Unless he had a weapon, he did not have an advantage.

Rob strode forward, aiming for a tree close to where Mark last stood. He swerved onto the adjacent lawn at a random point, leaped over a shrub, and ran at a crouch.

He spotted Mark, stationary like the mailbox, and closed in. Mark raised his hands in front of his chest. They were empty and unclenched, so Rob halted. Mark sidestepped closer to the light and smiled. "Wanna fight?" He made fists and danced back and forth.

"What a joker," Rob said. "Why so merry?"

Mark reached out for a handshake. "You."

Rob stared at his hand. "Me? What do you mean?"

"The interview." Mark's warm grin seemed genuine.

Rob braced himself for deceit, such as a destabilizing yank, but he shook Mark's hand, and nothing bad happened. "You're here to thank me for an interview?"

"You said we shouldn't meet again, but I appreciate your help. Most people suck, but you came through."

Mark made no sense. "I came through...?" Maybe the FBI pretended to be the CIA and interviewed him as part of an investigation, or through some twisted government logic, maybe contacting Alan Lord had actually secured Mark an interview. "Did they offer you a job?"

"They will. Surprised?"

Rob shrugged his shoulders, aiming to convey nonchalance. "Good for you." Mark charmed Julian and the others and was more capable of normalcy than Rob thought. Maybe the US government had interviewed him and decided a psychopath was spy material. Stranger things happened in this world. "You going to the subway station?"

"No. Home."

"Where's that?"

"Cambridge, just over the town line." Mark started down the sidewalk. He looked back once and stopped.

"That's really why you showed up tonight?" Rob said. "To thank me?"

"Yeah."

Rob wasn't so sure he believed that. "I'll walk half way."

They passed the Davis Square subway station in silence and headed toward Porter's Square. By the time they reached a 24-hour supermarket, the silence bothered Rob. Mark seemed nervous, giddy actually, and would not look at Rob. Best to bid him adieu. Rob looked through the windows at the supermarket's deserted aisles. He could buy hamburger and beans for chili.

"Did you see your daughter in Tokyo?" Mark said.

"How do you know about that?"

"You told me." Mark imitated the sharpness in Rob's voice and looked at him as if only conflict made eye contact possible.

Rob did not remember telling Mark anything about Makiko, but it could be true. They met the week he left for Japan. "I didn't see her, but maybe she'll want to meet me now that I hang out with rock stars." The small talk surprised him. Mark was trying to be human.

"Isn't that CD bad for your cover? It's a lot of publicity."

So, Mark still held on tightly to his delusions. "Mark, I'm not a spy."

"I've been trying to figure out how a CD behooves us. I can't figure it out." Mark sounded calm, thoughtful, and delusional, all at once. "Whatever you're doing, I envy you." Mark swallowed hard. "But, I want to say, I believe you're in danger."

What a surreal conversation. Rob stopped walking. The walkway in front of the supermarket turned a corner, and the stores after the supermarket were closed. "I hope you get the job, Mark. Either way, we stay away from each other, okay?"

Mark grabbed Rob's arm and squeezed his bicep. "No, come to my apartment. I just asked if you were in danger, that's all."

"Let go, mate," Rob said.

Before releasing Rob's arm, Mark squeezed it. Rob almost felt sorry for him. "Dude, I'm not gay. That kiss - I hated it. I was just messing around, trying to draw you out."

"Your brother's a fag."

"So?" That information was not common knowledge. Rob had only learned of it in recent years and had never spoken to Gene about it. He pointed at Mark's chest. "Don't check up on me or my family. That's creepy. No one's going to find that attractive, by the way."

Mark stared at Rob's finger. He spoke very calmly. "Maybe I'll do your brother instead of you."

An orange car drove close to them. It turned into a nearby parking space. The unshaven driver emerged from it. He wore red shorts and ran past them into the supermarket.

"Come to my house," Mark said impatiently. "If you're in danger, I can help, you know."

For Mark, maybe parts of their crazy conversation had passed for intimacy. Rob frowned and turned to go, but Mark grabbed his shoulder. Rob shook off his grip and pivoted to face him. "I'm not in danger, because I'm not a spy. I'm not gay either, though I wish you well, except for the creepy reference to my brother."

"I was joking. I'm not gay."

"I don't care if you are. It's just that I'm not."

Mark clenched his fists and scowled. "I'm not gay."

"Okay, great. Sorry about the misunderstanding, champ." Whether or not he was in denial, Rob could not help. Mark probably needed a professional. "Goodnight and goodbye." Rob headed toward the supermarket entrance.

"Hey!"

Rob walked on until something hard banged a No Parking sign up ahead. He looked back in case there were more projectiles.

Mark's hands were on his hips. In his world, throwing rocks was flirting. "Don't cross me," Mark said. "You'll regret it."

Rob laughed. "What happens when someone crosses you?"

"You don't want to know."

Rob had faced men in war zones whose power and whimsy took lives. He pondered describing such men, because Mark was not one of them, but mentoring Mark the clown was not his job or responsibility.

Mark stood with his legs apart and his shoulders and arms tense, but his facial features suddenly softened. "You're okay. I like you."

Rob laughed. "You're ridiculous."

Mark thrust his fists into his jacket pockets. "I can do anything I want to you."

Physically, Mark probably was stronger, but if he deployed it as badly as he deployed his smarts, Rob had nothing to worry about. "Enjoy your life, bebe." Rob took four or five steps before sensing movement from behind. A punch impacted his cranium, another knocked him off his feet.

I've read some very interesting stories about gay male athletes who had a difficult time accepting themselves. What do you think? Is Mark a caricature, as a villain and/or in other ways, or not?

As far as Rob is concerned, Mark is a distraction. Rob just wants to get back to Tokyo and Makiko. Is there anything he should have done differently?