be great,” the King said, more at ease, “and you’ll be great.”
“How nice of you. Thanks.” Sean glanced at Peter Marlowe and the eyes took on an added luster. “But I’m afraid Peter won’t agree with you.”
“Stop it, Sean,” Peter Marlowe said.
Sean did not look at Peter Marlowe, only the King, and smiled, but fury lurked beneath the smile. “Peter doesn’t approve of me.”
“Stop it, Sean,” Peter Marlowe said harshly.
“Why should I?” Sean lashed out. “You despise deviates — isn’t that what you call queers? You made that perfectly clear. I haven’t forgotten!”
“Nor have I!”
“Well, that’s something! I don’t like to be despised — least of all by you!”
“I said stop it! This isn’t the time or the place. And we’ve been through this before and you’ve said it all before. I said I was sorry. I didn’t mean any harm!”
“No. But you still hate me — why? Why?”
“I don’t hate you.”
“Then why do you always avoid me?”
“It’s better. For God’s sake, Sean, leave me be.”
Sean stared at Peter Marlowe, and then as suddenly as it had flared, the anger melted. “Sorry, Peter. You’re probably quite right. I’m the fool. It’s just that I’m lonely from time to time. Lonely just for talk.” Sean reached out and touched Peter Marlowe’s arm. “Sorry. I just want to be friends again.”
Peter Marlowe could say nothing.
Sean hesitated. “Well, I suppose I’d better be going.”
“Sean,” Rodrick called out from the path, “we’re late already.”
“I won’t be a moment.” Sean still looked at Peter Marlowe, then sighed and held out a hand to the King. “It was nice to meet you. Please forgive my bad manners.”
The King couldn’t avoid touching the hand again. “Happy to meet you,” he said.
Sean hesitated, eyes grave and searching. “Are you Peter’s friend?”
The King felt the whole world heard him when he said, stumbling, “Er, sure, yeah, I guess so.”
“Strange, isn’t it, how one word can mean so many different things. But if you are his friend, don’t lead him astray, please. You’ve a reputation for danger, and I wouldn’t like Peter hurt. I’m very fond of him.”
“Er, yes, sure.” The King’s knees jellied and his backbone melted. But the magnetism of Sean’s smile pervaded him. It was unlike anything he had ever felt. “The shows are the best thing in the camp,” he said. “Make life worth living. And you’re the best thing in them.”
“Thank you.” And then, to Peter Marlowe: “It does make life worthwhile. I’m very happy. And I like what I’m doing. It does make things worthwhile, Peter.”
“Yes,” Peter Marlowe said, tormented. “I’m glad all’s well.”
Sean smiled hesitantly a last time, then turned quickly and was suddenly gone.
The King sat down. “I’ll be goddamned!”
Peter Marlowe sat down too. He opened his box and rolled a cigarette.
“If you didn’t know he was a man, you’d swear to God that he was a woman,” the King said. “A beautiful woman.”
Peter Marlowe nodded bleakly.
“He’s not like the other fags,” the King said, “that’s for sure. No sir. Not the same at all. Jesus, there’s something about him that’s not —“ The King stopped and groped and continued helplessly, “Don’t quite know how to put it. He’s — he’s a woman, goddammit! Remember when he was playing Desdemona? My God, the way he looked in the negligee, I’ll bet there wasn’t a man in Changi that didn’t have a hard on. Don’t blame a man for being tempted. I’m tempted, everyone is. Man’s a liar if he says otherwise.” Then he looked at Peter Marlowe and studied him carefully.
“Oh, for the love of God,” Peter Marlowe said irritably. “Do you think I’m queer too?”
“No,” the King said calmly. “I don’t mind if you are. Just as long as I know.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“It sure as hell sounded like it,” the King said with a grin.
“How nice of you. Thanks.” Sean glanced at Peter Marlowe and the eyes took on an added luster. “But I’m afraid Peter won’t agree with you.”
“Stop it, Sean,” Peter Marlowe said.
Sean did not look at Peter Marlowe, only the King, and smiled, but fury lurked beneath the smile. “Peter doesn’t approve of me.”
“Stop it, Sean,” Peter Marlowe said harshly.
“Why should I?” Sean lashed out. “You despise deviates — isn’t that what you call queers? You made that perfectly clear. I haven’t forgotten!”
“Nor have I!”
“Well, that’s something! I don’t like to be despised — least of all by you!”
“I said stop it! This isn’t the time or the place. And we’ve been through this before and you’ve said it all before. I said I was sorry. I didn’t mean any harm!”
“No. But you still hate me — why? Why?”
“I don’t hate you.”
“Then why do you always avoid me?”
“It’s better. For God’s sake, Sean, leave me be.”
Sean stared at Peter Marlowe, and then as suddenly as it had flared, the anger melted. “Sorry, Peter. You’re probably quite right. I’m the fool. It’s just that I’m lonely from time to time. Lonely just for talk.” Sean reached out and touched Peter Marlowe’s arm. “Sorry. I just want to be friends again.”
Peter Marlowe could say nothing.
Sean hesitated. “Well, I suppose I’d better be going.”
“Sean,” Rodrick called out from the path, “we’re late already.”
“I won’t be a moment.” Sean still looked at Peter Marlowe, then sighed and held out a hand to the King. “It was nice to meet you. Please forgive my bad manners.”
The King couldn’t avoid touching the hand again. “Happy to meet you,” he said.
Sean hesitated, eyes grave and searching. “Are you Peter’s friend?”
The King felt the whole world heard him when he said, stumbling, “Er, sure, yeah, I guess so.”
“Strange, isn’t it, how one word can mean so many different things. But if you are his friend, don’t lead him astray, please. You’ve a reputation for danger, and I wouldn’t like Peter hurt. I’m very fond of him.”
“Er, yes, sure.” The King’s knees jellied and his backbone melted. But the magnetism of Sean’s smile pervaded him. It was unlike anything he had ever felt. “The shows are the best thing in the camp,” he said. “Make life worth living. And you’re the best thing in them.”
“Thank you.” And then, to Peter Marlowe: “It does make life worthwhile. I’m very happy. And I like what I’m doing. It does make things worthwhile, Peter.”
“Yes,” Peter Marlowe said, tormented. “I’m glad all’s well.”
Sean smiled hesitantly a last time, then turned quickly and was suddenly gone.
The King sat down. “I’ll be goddamned!”
Peter Marlowe sat down too. He opened his box and rolled a cigarette.
“If you didn’t know he was a man, you’d swear to God that he was a woman,” the King said. “A beautiful woman.”
Peter Marlowe nodded bleakly.
“He’s not like the other fags,” the King said, “that’s for sure. No sir. Not the same at all. Jesus, there’s something about him that’s not —“ The King stopped and groped and continued helplessly, “Don’t quite know how to put it. He’s — he’s a woman, goddammit! Remember when he was playing Desdemona? My God, the way he looked in the negligee, I’ll bet there wasn’t a man in Changi that didn’t have a hard on. Don’t blame a man for being tempted. I’m tempted, everyone is. Man’s a liar if he says otherwise.” Then he looked at Peter Marlowe and studied him carefully.
“Oh, for the love of God,” Peter Marlowe said irritably. “Do you think I’m queer too?”
“No,” the King said calmly. “I don’t mind if you are. Just as long as I know.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“It sure as hell sounded like it,” the King said with a grin.
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