the beginning

a story by Bob Normand

In coming at last to the crisis in his life, Michel felt his heart brimming with courage, although his knees trembled as the crowds of New York's Broadway milled past him. What were those faces thinking as they looked in upon him in his small booth in the cheap, brilliantly-lit orange-drink stand? The juke-box in the corner was alive with music that Michel disliked intensely, blazing and sending its unwonted passion into a facade of theatres and bars scribbled through and through with neon signs. Michel's head was warm with thoughts that seemed as endless as the dazzling lights.

His orange-drink was utterly tasteless. Half a pack of cigarettes were in his shirt pocket and Michel, alarmed at the sudden quiver in his lips, lit a cigarette. As he did so he noticed the eyes of a not too handsome middle-aged man upon him, a man dressed in a fashionable tweed summer suit. Michel sensed the man's intentions and noticed the hints in the man's delicate, persuasive hands. Michel was surprised to see the man's lips form the one word that had become so significant to him, the word "gay."

"Do you suppose he'll be kind to me, and understanding?" Michel's mind turned with ideas and questions. "I'm afraid, of course I'm afraid, what will he do? Does he really know who I am and that this is my first time? The first time, I can't believe it, the first time!"

A counter-man wiped Michel's table and took away the empty glass. Michel was embarrassed by the impromptu procedure, and the look on the counter-man's face was a bitter accusation that made Michel gasp in amazement.

"I've got to leave! They know me, they know who I am!" he thought. Getting to his feet Michel re-noticed the man in the tweed suit. The man's eyelids were lowered and he appeared sad as Michel walked along the counter towards the door leading to the pavement.

"Don't leave yet. Wouldn't you care for another soda, or permit me to take you to a bar for a drink?"

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