In the following story, all of the characters are totally fictive and the setting is real. For whomever it would be illegal, immoral or prohibited for any other reason whatsoever to read a story about love between two young men is kindly requested to refrain from continuing. A free picture album illustrating this story (pdf) is available upon request at marin.giustinian@laposte.net. Please remember to help Nifty stay online by sending your contribution. This being said, I hope you enjoy the tale.
HEADING HOME
by Marin Giustinian
Part One : Edinburgh, Scotland, 1966
When Brendan and I agreed to become radio storytellers, he asked me to write down the way I experienced our adventure of falling in love. He asked me to put in all the details I could remember, the big and little, even the most intimate.
I feel that writing our story about the past year is going to be an adventure in itself. I love to write, but usually it's about things I imagine, about stories I dream up. Now, as they say, reality can be wilder than fiction, so here I go, taking a big, deep dive into my own reality! Our reality. Our love.
The big change in my life, bringing me to Edinburgh, began in my school library. My family lives in Charlottesville, Virginia. I was a junior boarder in a boys' prep school about thirty miles further north. I loved studying and wanted to be in an environment of total academic immersion. My parents were fine with it.
So getting back to the library, there was a shelf filled with all kinds of college and university catalogues. Since I was going to graduate the following year, I used to browse, thumbing through a few of them, looking for inspiration, helping me choose. That's when I came across the catalogue of the highly venerable University of Edinburgh in Scotland.
I had always fantasized, about studying in Europe, dreaming about Scotland. I love English and Scottish literature. I wanted to major in English... so in my mind, why not go to Edinburgh? It would be a great change from the University of Virginia where my dad teaches History of Religions and... well, I just wanted to get out of the country and see some of the world on my own!
I talked about Edinburgh with my parents, and after a lot of discussion, they agreed for me to apply. So I applied. At the beginning of my senior year, I sent them all my school records and a laudatory recommendation letter from my headmaster. They replied in April saying that I was accepted.
Once the ordeal of graduation was over, I found myself back in my childhood home, as my mother calls it, the Winthrop House (For the record, my name's Andrew Jordon Winthrop) where I lived through the summer preparing my departure. I took care of my visa, my travelers checks, my wardrobe, trunk, airplane tickets, and lined up my room and board in Mrs. Maggie McGee's foreign students' residence near the Old College. I practiced how to recognize and use the pounds, pence, and shillings of the British currency. I even worked on speaking with an English accent by listening to BBC International on short wave. Actually, all that, with dreaming of theater included, kept me very busy!
But at the same time, I was sort of dreading the change. It was going to be the first time for me to really be alone, having to take care of myself and I admit, that scared me!
Making new friends had always been a problem for me. I wasn't exactly unsocial, but I did tend to keep to myself a lot and depend on my family for affection, support and simple security. The one thing I really enjoyed was working in the special drama department of my prep school. I was very popular as an actor in the school productions. I felt secure when I had a specific role to play and was told what to do and how to do it, playing my part... and not myself, with the others. I was extremely glad to know that there also were several student theater societies in the University of Edinburgh.
Finally the big day arrived. My parents drove me to the Washington airport from where I flew to New York. From there I went directly to London making connections to Edinburgh.
The flights were on time, my trunk and backpack followed and when I arrived to destination, the taxi put me in front of Mrs. McGee's town house. I was dead tired but it was out of question for me to rest up. It was eight o'clock in the morning, local time, and I was beginning my day like everybody else!
The other boarders were polite but not very friendly. I was the only American. The three others were all Commonwealth boys: India, Australia, South Africa. We each had a small single room and only saw each other at meals or bumping into each other in the bathroom.
After a week, I knew my way around, not only in the university but also in the old town. I wasn't yet completely at ease, but I was getting there. I hate having to decide, by myself, what to do everyday. I was really anxious for classes to begin and have a schedule to go by!
When classes were in full swing, I started to investigate the opportunities of joining a student theater society.
The Paradok Alternative Student Theatre appealed to me. I like the word, 'alternative'. When I showed up, I saw a little bill posted in the entrance. It announced the audition for an all male cast in a creation done by a certain Brendan Sutherland, resident author in the post graduate course of Theatre and Performance Studies. The audition was open to all students, I jotted down the information, deciding to give it a try. I got lost looking for their tiny playhouse and showed up five minutes late.
When I walked into the theater, there were about ten or twelve other fellows chatting together waiting for the audition to begin. Of course, I checked them all out. There's always competition at an audition. I hate it but that's how it goes.
Having lived my growing years in an all male community, I often felt a fire in me for my classmates. But the fire never dared showing its light. There was just the burn.
So when Brendan Sutherland came across the stage and hopped down onto the audience level where we were gathered in front of the first row, I gasped. I'm sure the light flashed! It was love at first sight for me. In fact it upset me being so deeply affected by the riptide of emotions I went through. The simple sight of the man took my breath.
He extended to us a courteous welcome, requesting that we be seated and passed us a paper upon which we should write our name, age, home town and field of study, mentioning the year. When he saw we had finished, he collected the papers, looking at each one of us, reading our names. I was the last.
He smiled, looked at me straight in the eyes and said, "Nice name... Hmm... Andrew Winthrop, from Virginia... Interesting..."
I thought I'd melt. Thank God there was little light off stage because I'm sure I was red as a stop sign.
As Brendan told us about the project, I was devouring him with my eyes. He was no more than thirty with perfect skin, well shaved. His auburn hair was thick and curly, just enough to enhance the streaks of blond. It looked natural. Seeing how he was, it had to be natural. I couldn't see him using anything unnecessary to better his looks. He stayed very calm, poised, almost stern, but when he smiled his teeth sparkled. I loved it when he was looking for his words, the tip of his tongue flitted across his relaxed, fleshy lips. His dress was casual, elegant and in the best of taste, without being at all show-offish. I had to force myself to pay attention.
He insisted on the fact that the play would be, 'work in progress'. It would be one non-stop act, set in some vague medieval era. There would be a young nobleman, traveling with his squire. They sought shelter in an isolated abbey. A monk welcomed them and gave them a room with a large straw bed over which hung a crucifix with a nude Christ on the cross. From that point on, the rest had to be written in collaboration with the actors he had chosen. Rehearsals were scheduled in the evenings, three days a week and we were warned that a few weekends before the premiere in late March could be required.
"If any of you have problems working on theme conveying the realities of normal homosexual energy, you can leave now," he stated, "and for those who stay on, we shall now begin."
He went on stage. Three of the guys left in silence. Brendan reduced the lighting down to a single circle, center stage. He then came back down with us and asked each of us to step up on stage and take three minutes at the most to introduce ourselves. He had arranged the names in alphabetic order, calling us one after the other. Of course, I was last.
I was very excited as I stepped into the light. I stood my ground, flashed a smile and began with my best American southern drawl, "Hey there, you all. I'm Andrew Jordon Winthrop and I'm mighty glad to be here. I'm from the state of Virginia... You know, the former English colony, Pocahontas and all..."
The guys laughed, and when I switched over to my best Queen's English, there was a sudden silence.
"However, I do think that it is totally pointless that I be American, considering the fact that Mr. Sutherland's play takes place in the British Isles where, at that time, no one even suspected that there could be another world elsewhere. Actually one of the reasons for which I came to this university was not only because of my love to study English and Scottish literature, but also because of the the theater societies proposed here. I love acting and I've been a diligent, assiduous, and zealous member of our drama department in my prep school... in the former colony of Virginia... overseas. The homoerotic theme doesn't shock me. I'm relatively free of prejudices concerning something absolutely ordinary in most refined human males. Of course I'm lying, but I'll try! All of you are checking me out right now, like I checked you out before. It normal. I enjoy being looked at, kindly that is! And, I must say that I should consider myself quite honored to be either the monk, the squire or his juvenile lordship with any of you. This being said, to be totally honest, what tempts me the most is the opportunity to modestly try inspiring our author for a stunning outcome of what yet is to us -- and perhaps to him, still a mystery."
I was applauded.
Brendan then spoke up simply saying, "Thank you."
He then had us pair up, changing often, seeing how we looked together. He had us walk, kneel, sit, jump up and even touch each other, as he said, with 'sincere tenderness'. That was a little strange, but quite enjoyable. Being touched that way was extremely soothing. Touching another fellow that way made me feel all warm inside, too.
When told us to stop, there was calm on the stage. He then simply told us "Thank you. I've taken notes and shall make up my mind for the cast after due thought. I'll post my choice on the front door of this room, day after tomorrow at 10:00 AM, stipulating the time of our first rehearsal here. For those of you do not appear in the cast of this play, please attend the workshops I instruct, organized by the Paradok for a possible future collaboration. Good evening, men, and thank you again."
With that he left. Several of the guys came up to me, patting me on the shoulder saying that my introduction was absolutely brilliant. It made me feel good, but my timidity took over, and probably I acted like a nerd.
I was too awestruck by Brendan Sutherland. All I could think about was the fact that I would walk barefooted through hell, just to be on stage under his direction.
There were only three names on the final cast list. Nobleman: Andrew Winthrop, Squire: Mark Moray, Monk, auth. and dir. : Brendan Sutherland.
I was thrilled to no end! Mark mastered the Scottish peasant brogue to perfection, but I must admit, for my tastes anyway, he wasn't that upsetting. I don't mean he was repulsive. No, not at all. I felt that I could physically and emotionally interact with him as much as needed by the play, but let's just say that I was in no danger of falling in love... and since I'd never fallen in love, I actually had no idea of what it could feel like!
Brendan told us that he would hold the role of the monk, which he limited to being the storyteller. He would introduce the action alone in front of the curtain at the beginning of the play and then conclude, once the curtain closed. That way he could concentrate on writing our dialogues and directing our action.
During the rehearsals, we read his texts as they came, sitting on stage in a circle. Then Brendan would indicate the scene and we'd improvise. He then took notes, gave us new instructions, etc. It was lots of fun. I discovered the joy of being both protected by a role and at the same time, freed by the role, letting myself come out through the character of the one I was playing. With Mark, the squire, we would find ourselves sometimes in the funniest situations possible. In some, we would even argue, usually ending up in as sort of sexual tension full of silences and even body contact.
It was during a moment like that when Brendan shouted, "Now kiss..."
We both froze.
"I said, KISS!"
We slowly we drew our lips closer and closer. The kiss that followed was absolutely delicious. My first actual lips-to-lips kiss!
Brendan's reaction was immediate, "Perfect, brilliant, okay boys. It looked completely natural!"
I was glad we pleased him. Mark just wiped his mouth.
I asked him, "You all right, Mark?"
"Yeah, twasn't bad. Coming from a bonnie bloke like you, I can cope with it," he replied, looking aside.
"That's all for tonight. See you Wednesday," Brendan called out as he left the stage.
Mark left too, and I just stood there, feeling like I had a whole new horizon opening up in my dreams. I secretly thanked my guardian angel and Brendan too for letting me taste my first kiss, on a stage, and to top it all off, with another guy!
As the weeks flew by, the work in class piled up. Between lectures, reading, writing and rehearsing the play, I barely had time for anything else. I was longing to go out on the town, drink in a pub, go for a walk up Arthur's Seat, lay around in bed and daydream, taking care of myself. But on the other hand, the rehearsals became more and more interesting. Brendan's writing was easy to learn. It was beautiful, witty, touching... well everything. When I played, the words that came out weren't his. They were mine. When I said that to Brendan, he smiled and said, "That's normal. You are the one who inspired them. You're a very good actor. I enjoy working with you."
I blushed, looking at my feet.
"I mean it, Andrew. So look at me. Are you happy to collaborate too?"
I looked up at him, with teary eyes. I guess it was the fatigue and the projectors. I mustered up all the boldness possible, and replied, "You make me very happy, Mr. Sutherland."
"Andrew! If you call Mr. Sutherland one more time, I'll knee you in the balls. My name is Brendan! Now put that in your head from now on!"
"Brendan... you are in my head all the time."
Mark and I had fun working on stage together, even kissing, but outside of that, no other contact. To be honest, I didn't care. I didn't have time anyway.
I'm glad I know how to study hard. The most challenging course is beginner Gaelic. They come up with sounds I didn't even know humans could make. I thought that once I'd have some holidays, I'd go to a place where people actually use the language. For the time being, it's just an ordeal!
Talking about holidays, Thanksgiving went by but with Christmas coming up, I was really getting homesick. I had no idea of what I was going to do and celebrating with Mrs. McGee didn't really seem to be a bright thing to look forward to.
I actually postponed planning something. In fact I was simply mixed up about what I really wanted to do. Sometimes, outside of theater and studying, I was mixed up. I dreamt of having time for myself and when the time was there, I panicked. Real life can be a bloody bummer.
The end of the play was in the making. Brendan decided to make a kind of statement out of it, even if it could be interpreted as blasphemy.
His idea was to have the squire and the nobleman rip the statuette off the cross and while holding it, they would be, as if by miracle, overwhelmed by lust for each other.
He resumed his reasoning saying this, "Jesus's love for you makes you feel deep, physical love for each other. After all, he did say, 'This is my flesh you can eat, my blood to drink. The love he inspires leads you to the communion of the flesh.' Things were scandalously clear! I loved it! The lights should go down as we begin to strip each other, clinging, falling and kissing. The sounds we should make in the dark should be specifically sexual. Mark was very good at that. He certainly had the experience of which I was in total lack.
The last scene would be the monk narrating the secret departure of the young nobleman with his squire and that Christ had disappeared from the cross by the force of truely human love. Hallelujah!
After the Christmas holidays, the real fun part could begin. I loved working on details, costumes, lighting, interpretation, etc.
Brendan congratulated us saying, "Rest up and have a good time over the holidays. I know it's a stupid joke, but I'll say it anyhow -- see you next year, mates!"
Mark laughed and I shrugged in silence, looking away, walking into the shadow of the wings off stage. Brendan noticed my change of mood and came up gently asking, "Something wrong, Andrew?"
I shrugged again, holding back my bitter, boyish tears of despair. My guts were tied in knots as I stood there in the dimness, on the edge of oblivion, feeling like impending emptiness began to swallow me alive.
"Andrew, answer me."
"Brendan, I'm dying of homesickness. No, that's not it. I've discovered so much these past three months and now, alone, at Christmas... I don't know what I'll do. I afraid of staying here by myself with nothing to do. God, I feel awful!"
And with those words, I broke down. I began to weep like a five year old when he was told that his puppy was killed by a passing car and that Santa Claus didn't exist at the same time.
Brendan simply said nothing and took me in his arms. I blubbered even more, heaving and retching all the built up fears and desires that hadn't yet been expressed. I needed security, protection... I needed Brendan to hold me for a long, long time.
That's what he did.
When I calmed down, he said, "Andrew, that's better. Let's go down a pint or two over on Grassmarket, in my favorite pub!"
How could it be possible to go in a blink, from total despair to glorious elation? Well, in the pub, I did just that.
The place was noisy, smokey, crowded. We were able to find a table in a far corner and sitting there in front of two pint glasses of dark ale, Brendan finally spoke.
"Andrew, I'm alone for Christmas too. Without going into details, here's why. But first of all..."
He raised his pint and so did I as he said, "Cheers, mate! I'm glad to have you here."
I blinked, we toasted and he began, "My father was killed in a road accident leaving me completely alone. No brother nor sister. I was fifteen. My father and I were very close. My mother and he were divorced and she was with her new husband in Vancouver, thousands of miles away."
He swallowed some more ale.
"Do you mind me telling you all this? You'll see why in a minute."
"No, not at all. Go on."
"So, I was taken in by my widowed grandmother who enjoyed her whisky more than her health. When I went off to college, I met a girl. We tried living together. It didn't work. Sex with her became a bore... for me at least. Thank God there was the theatre. The stage became my home, my family and my love. Now, here's the point. My dad left me a little one room cottage over on the Isle of North Uist, in the Outer Hebrides. That's where I go by myself when I'm free on holidays. I should say, when I'm exiled on holidays. I love the place even if it's really primitive. No running water inside. No electricity. An open fire, a bed, a table, some shelves and some very good wine and whisky. Would you like to come there with me next week?"
I was dumbfounded. My mouth dropped and I stuttered, "You are inviting me to spend the holidays with you, just you and me?"
"Are you deaf or what? Yes, that's exactly what I said. So...?"
"Uh... so... so, YES!"
I nearly spilt my pint throwing my arms in the air, beaming with bolts of joy surging through me like lightning.
"Good. That being settled, let's get organized. But before, we need another pint, don't we?"
"Uh... I've not finished this one."
"So what? You're in walking distance from your boarding house and my flat is not that far away either. I'll bring you one anyhow. Do you have something to take notes with?"
"Yes... I've a notepad in my satchel."
"Get it out while I make my way to the bar."
Two days later, I was standing outside with my backpack, in front of the boarding house, waiting for Brendan to drive up. He told me he had a ten year old roadster that he kept in a garage. When I saw the gleaming, silver-grey MG drive up and stop, I wondered if the dream would ever end. Here I was, climbing in a fantastically elegant car, with a fantastically elegant man, on the way to a secluded cottage on a distant island, just the two of us.
"Good morning, Andrew. How are you on this fine, apparently clear day?"
As I climbed into the car, I stated the absolute, naked truth, "I couldn't be better, Brendan! I'm more than fine; I'm afraid I'm dead and in paradise."
He laughed, squeezing my knee, saying, "No, this is real... not even theatre! Let's go. We've got a full day of driving ahead. I've booked us a room in Uig. We'll take the ferry over to Lochmaddy early tomorrow morning."
"I'm ready to follow you wherever and whenever you want, Brendan," I replied, "I'm so excited!"
And away we zoomed. I felt weird with him sitting beside me, driving on my left. I was at the place of the driver if we were back in the States. The roadster being a convertible, the wind in the canvas top made conversation nearly impossible. I didn't care. I was discovering the countryside. As the dawn lit the sky, we could see it was going to be a beautiful, sunny, winter's day. The heater barely kept my feet warm, but my nose was frozen. I kept my hands deep in the pockets of my heavy woolen coat and was glad to have my scarf wrapped twice around my neck, up to my ears. Around 10:30 we stopped for tea in a roadside tavern. There was a big, cast iron stove heating the place and the hot cup of tea felt good in my hands. I even indulged in a scone with jam and butter.
"How's it going for you, Andrew?"
"I'm still in heaven!"
"And with your hearty appetite, I see you're well on earth too!"
"Brendan, I was just thinking. We really don't know each other that much, so if I get on your nerves or bother you in any way what so ever, you can just put me on a train or a bus. I wouldn't mind," lying for all I was worth!
"Don't be foolish, Andrew. I needed someone to... to share my place with. I was beginning to be really selfishness about my solitude. I'm glad it's you. Don't worry, if you, or I for that matter, get on one another's nerves, we'll talk about it. That's all. We're going to make our stay together be like a work of art! Do you agree?"
"I agree!"
"Come on, we've got some wilderness to cross now. There's going to be snow on the mountains."
We hit the road again and sure enough the scenery was fabulous.
We arrived in Mallaig in time for a good meal. Then we went shopping for our groceries to take to the cottage, took the ferry over to the Isle of Skye and arrived at the hotel in Uig just before nightfall. We parked and checked in.
The innkeeper greeted us, saying, "Glad to see you again, Mr. Sutherland, and welcome to Uig, young man."
He asked me for my passport and while I was digging it out of my sack, he asked Brendan if we needed a single or a double...
"Double please, and give us the table with view for dinner," Brendan replied.
The room was very nice and cosy with two big windows looking out over the water. I bounced on my bed, finding it very wide and comfortable.
"That's a great change from my bed at the boarding house!"
"Take advantage now because at the cottage, we'll be sharing an alcove bed with a genuine wool mattress."
I smiled and shrugged, trying to be cool. In fact, I was dying to share his bed!
We went down for drinks, and then dinner. Once we were back up in the room, Brendan retired to the bathroom saying, "I'm going to soak in the bath for a while. I need to relax some after the drive."
I stared out the window into the clear night. I was dying to see the northern lights. My breath fogged up the window pane and I absentmindedIy drew a heart with my finger. I was still marveling at the fact that I was here with HIM! It all still seemed to be so unreal... I must have dreamt a long time because I startled when Brendan came out of the steamy bathroom in a cloud of steam, nude as a Greed god, toweling his hair.
"It's free for you now, Andrew. Enjoy a big bubble bath like I did. At the cottage, we'll have to sponge bathe in front of the fire."
I was stunned at how absolutely gorgeous he was, standing there. He must have thought the look I had on my face concerned what he had just said...
"I warned you it's going to be primitive over there!"
He was still naked when he crawled under the covers and opened one of the books he had with him in his overnight bag.
I did as he suggested. I really enjoyed the bathtub and the bubble bath was fun. I kept on dreaming, but this time I dreamt about the vision laying in the bedroom beside the bed I was going to sleep in. I had to take care of my very stiff dick, hoping I could calm it down some. It had been uncomfortably hard, off and on, all day long!
I hesitated putting my pajamas on, and finally decided to do like Brendan. I wanted to look a bit more grown-up than a kid still in his flannels. I slowly walked naked across the bedroom. Brendan looked up and simply said, "Good night, Andrew."
I sighed, crawling in bed, a bit disappointed over his lack of interest.
"Good night, Brendan -- and thanks a million for a brilliant day!"
He just looked over and smiled before turning off the lights.
I suddenly felt sleep overtake me too.
To be continued...
A free picture album illustrating this story (pdf) is available upon request at marin.giustinian@laposte.net.