https:\/\/commons.mtholyoke.edu\/blackstickreview2017\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/312\/2017\/05\/Kira-Yeates.mp3<\/a><\/audio>\n <\/p>\n
1982<\/span><\/i><\/p>\nAn alligator under a home is a harbinger of death in New Orleans, but by the time an alligator crawled beneath Beau Aucoin\u2019s front porch, the man was nearly gone. The reptile crept beneath the oak planks and marinated itself in the dust of Louisiana that pushed between cracks in the floorboards by the thick soles of work boots. Todd Becker had not set foot onto Beau Aucoin\u2019s lawn before he was greeted by the true nuisance: the ninety-year-old neighbor who\u2019d called Louisiana Fish and Wildlife sixteen times in two hours, complaining that she couldn\u2019t tend to the hostas on the side of her house with the creature under the neighbor\u2019s deck. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cYou gon have to get him out of there, sugar,\u201d the white-haired neighbor pointed to the front porch, \u201cI tried to ring the owner ten times, but I didn\u2019t see one light go on. That\u2019s why I kept calling.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cI\u2019ll take a look, ma\u2019am,\u201d said Todd, who peered through the slats beneath Beau Aucoin\u2019s front porch to see the complaint. The four-foot reptile was still in the shade, its eyes forward and glazed. This was the animal caused the phone of Louisiana Fish and Wildlife to ring with such fervor that it caused profane outbursts from his boss. The onslaught of calls began at 8:00am, the minute the office opened, and persisted until 1:14pm, when the Director bellowed at Todd to see to it. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cI think he got himself stuck himself down there.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cLooks like it, ma\u2019am.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cHe\u2019ll prolly be alright now, huh?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cSure, he\u2019ll be fine. He\u2019s small enough that we can just release him.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cWhere you from, babe? Not from here.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cMinnesota, ma\u2019am.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cWell, ain\u2019t that something? You don\u2019t have to ma\u2019am me, either. Call me Rhoda.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\nRhoda gasped when Todd looped a harness around the small gator\u2019s snout and pulled the spinning creature through the slats on the side of the porch. She coached him through the process, reminded him to be careful, and jumped when the scaly snout emerged, covered in debris, into the sunshine. The entire procedure took fifteen minutes, but would have taken less had Rhoda not commanded Todd to stop and listen to the coughing upstairs. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cPneumatic, babe. Only twenty-eight, you know that?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cThat\u2019s young,\u201d Todd said. The cough sounded like suffering as it rang through the open window and into the driveway. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cCan\u2019t get out of bed. Fairy lover of his comes and takes care of him, ain\u2019t that awful? He hasn\u2019t tended that garden of his in the backyard for four months now.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cHuh,\u201d Todd said. <\/span><\/p>\nRhoda paused. It was rare to find a person in New Orleans inclined to so few words, even if he was from out of town. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cYou ain\u2019t a fairy, are you?\u201d she asked. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cI\u2014uh, well\u2014\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cThat\u2019s okay. You don\u2019t have to tell me. You don\u2019t know him, do you?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cNo, I\u2014\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cWe\u2019ll get along fine as long as you get this gator out from his porch and don\u2019t give me that gay cancer, honey.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t dare.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n*<\/span><\/p>\nAn hour later, after it was wrangled out from under the porch and into Todd\u2019s van, Todd set the alligator on a patch of grass that sloped gently toward the green swamp. The animal shot into the water, the rhythmic swerve of its spine reminiscent of a snake, and after gaining some distance away from his captor found a cypress log on which to bask. From its perch, the alligator gazed at Todd, forlorn. As an omen, it had failed. Beau Aucoin was soon to die, and it seemed the creature was the last to know. <\/span><\/p>\n*<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cYou didn\u2019t see him, did you?\u201d Ian asked when Todd revealed he\u2019d visited Beau Aucoin\u2019s front porch. Ian leaned against the fridge and ran his fingers through his hair, \u201cIt\u2019s too hot in here, you\u2019d think we could afford air conditioning with how much you work.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cHe couldn\u2019t come out,\u201d Todd said, cutting celery in rhythm to a tape playing in the next room, \u201cAnd there was Rhoda.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cWho\u2019s Rhoda?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cThe next door neighbor with a phone problem.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\nBeau was a fairy indeed; the sort that could teach you how to fly. Beau and his partner, Gabe, taught Todd how to go about being gay in the South nearly ten years ago, while Todd was still a student at Tulane. Todd knew the sound of Beau\u2019s laugh, and the Cajun way of speaking that fit his baritone so well. Beau gave him cooking lessons when Todd first moved to New Orleans, and taught him everything he needed to know to make dinner for two, for six, for eighteen. He taught Todd the proper way to tell a story; it must contain something of a paradox, and must begin with \u201cY\u2019all ain\u2019t gon believe this.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cYou could have seen him. You were at his house,\u201d Ian said, pacing back and forth in the kitchen, \u201cGabe said he looked bad. I just want to see for myself, you know?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cShe knew about the gay cancer, you know,\u201d Todd scraped the celery from the cutting board into a pot on the stove. It was Beau who had taught him the Holy Trinity of Cajun cooking: celery, onions, and bell peppers. He scraped the Father into the pan, took out two Sons, and peeled off their outer layer of skin. The red and green Holy Spirit would have to wait until the first two boiled down in the broth. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cCouldn\u2019t you have just asked to visit him, even for a minute?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cIan, even if I could, I couldn\u2019t have,\u201d Todd said, opening a package of grey prawns and laying them out on the cutting board, \u201cI can\u2019t have everyone knowing that\u2014\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cThat you\u2019re gay? You must be pretty cautious then, hiding me from an old woman like that.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cIt\u2019s not that. No. It\u2019s\u2014\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cIf you want to hide me, Todd, you\u2019re going to have to do a hell of a lot better than\u2014\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cIan, not you.\u201d Todd put down the knife and gave Ian a kiss on the forehead. Todd treated a kiss on the forehead like a baptism, a reversal of his Lutheran upbringing. His lips touched to Ian\u2019s forehead and Todd renewed his love for the man as if it was his first encounter with tenderness. He smelled the light scent of Ian\u2019s shampoo as he brushed his hairline with his nose and held Ian\u2019s face between his hands. The stubble tickled the tips of his fingers, \u201cNot you, never you.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cWhat, then?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cPeople think I know every gay man in this goddamn city, Ian, I\u2014\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cWe do.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cAnd if they know we do, then\u2026then they\u2019ll think we might be liable to, you know\u2014\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cCatch AIDS?\u201d \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\nThe rich brown broth bubbled over the side of the pot and sizzled as it ran down the side of the iron and onto the iron stovetop. The metal wheezed and concoction let off a light smoke. Todd bent over it and pursed his lips together. He blew the smallest, coolest stream of air he could to calm it, when he felt Ian\u2019s hands slip into the belt buckles on either of his hip bones. Ian\u2019s breath chilled the back of his neck, and he whispered into Todd\u2019s ear: \u201cWhat say we go out tomorrow night?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\nTodd turned around, \u201cI don\u2019t see how that\u2019d help Beau Aucoin.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cWell I\u2019m not in love with Beau Aucoin, am I?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n*<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cThem squirrels are down there. In a box on the floor,\u201d a woman pointed to the basement door of her home. The urgency in her eyes insisted not upon the presence of rodentia, but a demon. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cThey won\u2019t hurt nobody, I been good to them,\u201d called a boy from behind the shelter of his mother\u2019s body. His mother squeezed the thin bones of his wrist into submission and away from the colony he\u2019d raised in the basement. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cA month he\u2019s had them down there! You see them? You see them?\u201d The woman yelled down the bannister at Todd. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cYes ma\u2019am!\u201d Todd shouted up the stairs. A trap in his hand, he placed the metal cage on the floor and nearly thrust the box into it whole, but he stopped short. Two eyes poked out of the seams of the closed cardboard. They blinked. Todd used his pinky finger to push aside the stiff cardboard to reveal a mother and her two babies. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cI can\u2019t believe you <\/span>touched<\/span><\/i> them, Augie,\u201d He heard the woman upstairs say to her son. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cI helped her get healthy again, Momma, that\u2019s why she came in, anyway. She couldn\u2019t find\u2014\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cAugustus Gaudet, I have heard enough of your critter keeping!\u201d <\/span><\/p>\nThe little things clung to their mother\u2019s nipples, suckling with closed eyes. The squirrels were accustomed to human contact, catered to by a four-foot butler. The mother brushed her ear into the side of the box and nestled into the corner of the cardboard, resigned to be pampered by the loving hands of a human. Todd closed the lid of the box and slid it into the metal enclosure. He carried it up the stairs to the fighting duo. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cMomma, just look at them, they\u2019re\u2014\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cCullion! They gon have to die because you were touching them, you understand that, boy?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\nAt that, tears swelled. They pooled in his brown eyes and dripped down his lean cheekbones. Augie broke into a fit of sniffles and hyperventilation, his chest heaved as a light drip of snot ran quickly from his nose to his lips. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cThat ain\u2019t true, is it, sir?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cDid you feed them?\u201d Todd asked, \u201cYou pet them, put your hands on them?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cThey needed me,\u201d the boy cried, \u201cI thought they needed me!\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cAnd now, Augie, they gon have to put them down,\u201d his mother said, her fingers still overlapping around his wrist, \u201cI told him that when I found them, too, I know what y\u2019all have to do and the boy needs to learn not to go raising wild animals in my house. Lucky he don\u2019t get rabies. Lucky I don\u2019t.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\nTodd backed away from the boy and his mother and turned to the front door. In the short hallway between the kitchen and the foyer, Todd realized his motions were tracked by the immense presence of eyes. The hallway\u2019s walls were covered in family photos, tracking the growth of Augie and the growth of his mother and father, hanging in stills on yellowed floral wallpaper. Todd sometimes wondered what it would be to have a wall of photos to commemorate his potential accomplishments: a child, a marriage, the clean appearance of being posed. All three members of the family had the same brown eyes, nearly indistinguishable from the pupil. Otherwise, Augie was a mix of features: his mother\u2019s lips, his father\u2019s ears. Todd pondered what his own child might look like. Ian had blue eyes. Todd wanted to mix his own features with Ian\u2019s, plucking his favorite attributes of them both; he wanted to mold his child, press his freckles firmly, gently, on the child\u2019s cheekbones, fan Ian\u2019s eyelashes with the light touch of a thumb onto a canvas that mixed the shades of their skin like oils. But that was not how life was made. He twisted the door handle and bounced the cage of squirrels on his knee as he trotted down the steps. <\/span><\/p>\nThe boy broke free from his mother\u2019s grip and flew down the front hallway, knocking down a framed family photo when he clumsily slapped against the wall. \u201cBoy, did you break my good frame?\u201d screeched his Momma from the kitchen. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cYou gon kill them?\u201d Augie shouted as he ran out onto his front lawn, where Todd was loading the truck. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cWe might have to, buddy,\u201d Todd frowned at the child, \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cThe momma never bit me or nothing. They’re good!\u201d shouted the boy, his face gone vermillion in his grief. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cI know, but touching wild animals is dangerous even if they don\u2019t bite you. Sometimes they start to rely on you, and that means they can\u2019t be wild anymore.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\nAugie\u2019s breathing calmed, and the boy stood as tall as he could. His chest puffed, and through Augie\u2019s orange T-shirt, Todd could make out an outline of his collarbones. \u201cNot everybody\u2019s got to be wild, sir.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cMaybe somebody could adopt one of them,\u201d Todd said with an upward inflection. It was illegal to own any exotic or wild animals in New Orleans, but lying with the intention of appeasement was the extent of Todd\u2019s parenting skills. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cWill you?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cWill I\u2014oh, no, I can\u2019t, I\u2014\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cAugie!\u201d his mother shouted shrilly from the doorway, \u201cYou get in here and pick up this glass, boy. Let that <\/span>p\u00e9d\u00e9 <\/span><\/i>to himself.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n*<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cHey, dears,\u201d Gabe hugged Todd and Ian when they walked into the club. Past his smile, Gabe\u2019s expression was wrought with worry. Beneath the backbeat of Hall & Oates was an undercurrent of official and dire business. As Beau Aucoin\u2019s partner, Gabe was unsure of his own prognosis. No one knew how it was transmitted, but all looked on. In the beginning, when they\u2019d first seen the New York Times article two years ago, they thought it might have been poppers. And then it was the bathhouses, the drugs. There was a test done that found cells of the virus in saliva; a kiss with the wrong man could turn a person into a time bomb. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cYou want a drink?\u201d yelled Ian. Todd shook his head, Gabe nodded, and Ian gestured to the bar, where Todd knew Ian would order a Sazerac. Ian was partial to rye whiskey and even more enamored with absinthe, and he imbibed in his version of ambrosia nearly every time they went dancing. Todd watched them hail the bartender and turned away. He danced in place and glanced around club, at its neurotic lights. For the first time, Todd inhaled deeply enough to register the club\u2019s scent\u2014that of a locker room, thick with bodies and cologne. <\/span><\/p>\nFifteen feet away, blocked by two couples and a speaker, Todd saw him. He was sculpted in the eye of the Greeks, carved from marble and endowed with sentience. An Adonis. Todd hadn\u2019t thought of Greek art since college, but of this artisanal craftsmanship he was sure. He was drawn to the jagged jawline, the deep-set eyes, overcome by the need to prove the man was tangible. The man was familiar, but Todd could not figure out if it was because he was a person he\u2019d met before, or if he was merely Todd\u2019s idea of beauty embodied. As the bass of the song pumped through his feet, he gave into gravity. Todd watched his arm stretch and place itself on the thick muscle of the man\u2019s shoulder. The Adonis turned, blinked. Todd\u2019s hand fell from his shoulder and discovered a new resting place: the tight cloth of a white tank top. He ran his hands up the Adonis\u2019s body, trapped in the distant memory of him.<\/span><\/p>\nTodd closed his eyes and could see the pulsating strobe light through his closed lids. He craned his neck backward, letting the lights flash\u2014black, red, black, red\u2014through the capillaries in his eyelids in a fiercely biological glow. <\/span><\/p>\nTodd\u2019s lips flew onto the Adonis\u2019s, and Todd imagined himself somewhere else. In this man\u2019s embrace, Todd left the club altogether and instead stood in the shadow of a glowing skyline, the tall buildings twinkling somewhere infinitely far away, a place where it was alright to be completely alone in the arms of someone else. <\/span><\/p>\nAnd his lips were silk and his eyelashes beat against the top of Todd\u2019s cheekbone and Todd forgot what it was to be full of someone else, to meld one\u2019s own solitude into another. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cWhat the hell do you think you\u2019re doing, Todd?\u201d Ian\u2019s cracking tenor rang from the bar. Todd\u2019s already racing heart pounded in his temples. He pushed on the Adonis\u2019s pectorals and backed himself between bodies in the club. The skyline shattered and Ian grabbed his shoulder. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cWhat just happened?\u201d Ian demanded, \u201cAre you serious?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cI\u2014I don\u2019t know. I\u2019m sorry,\u201d Todd answered. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cDamn right, you\u2019re sorry, Todd. Jesus. I\u2019m going home. Have fun giving us both\u2014\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cIan.\u201d Ian paced away from Todd the door when Todd caught his shoulder. The bare skin of Ian\u2019s shoulder burned from the heat of the surrounding bodies. The dance floor evoked a natural sweat. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cDon\u2019t you fucking touch me. I\u2019ll see you at home.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n*<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cAnd why\u2019s he pitching a fit?\u201d Beau Aucoin asked when Todd approached his hospital bed. Ian glared at Todd and shuffled into the hallway, determined not to share space. He was surprised Ian came at all, let alone tolerate Todd in the same car as they\u2019d driven over. It was too quiet in Beau\u2019s hospital room; Beau loved Barbara and Bette too much to have such a sonic vacancy. Todd wished he could have visited Beau when he was home; he seemed so uncomfortable and small in the white room. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cI kissed someone,\u201d Todd said.<\/span><\/p>\nBeau guffawed, and the wheeze from his lungs turned quickly into a cough. Todd loved the sharp cut of Beau\u2019s laugh\u2014it was as if even Beau was startled by its might. It was muffled, but very much alive inside him. \u201cThat\u2019d do it, Todd.\u201d He spat into a handkerchief, \u201cNever thought you much of a wild thing, boy.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cI\u2019m not! Or I wasn\u2019t until now, at least.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cWe might just be roommates if he kicks you out,\u201d Beau chuckled, glancing about the room, \u201cNow they\u2019re saying it might go through saliva, you now.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cOh, I know. Why do you think he\u2019s not talking to me?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\nBeau stared at Todd. \u201cHeard you met the Rhoda.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cDid I ever meet Rhoda.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\nTodd heard a small clatter behind him. In a wooden chair in the corner of the room, Beau Aucoin\u2019s momma dropped her rosary beads on the floor. She was mousy, the shade of her hair matched her khaki pants. She hunched over to pick up the beads and met Todd\u2019s gaze as she sat up straight in her seat. Her eyes held anger\u2014they burned behind the brown irises. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cHello, ma\u2019am, I didn\u2019t see you there,\u201d said Todd, extending a hand, \u201cI\u2019m Todd Becker, a friend of your\u2014\u201d<\/span><\/p>\nBeau\u2019s momma ignored his hand and instead clutching her rosary in both hands. Her stringy hair brushed her fingers when her head bent in prayer. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cJe vous salue, Marie, pleine de gr\u00e2ces, le Seigneur est avec vous,\u201d she whispered, pinching a bead between her slight fingers. Todd could clearly see each knuckle as she made her way up the necklace. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cShe don\u2019t approve of me, but she\u2019s got to be here to pray,\u201d Beau said, rolling his eyes. \u201cWon\u2019t touch me,\u201d said Beau, \u201cPretends like I don\u2019t notice, Todd, but she hasn\u2019t since she walked in.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\nAt this, his mother stood up. The hollows of her cheekbones stood out as she spoke; Todd could recognize the skeleton beneath her thin skin. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cI will not die for your crimes,\u201d she burned. Beau Aucoin\u2019s mother clumped the string of beads in her hand and glided from the room. Todd could see the cross at the end of the rosary poking into her palm, lightening her skin under its pressure. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cJesus can\u2019t clean up a dead body, Momma!\u201d Beau yelled, and burst into another fit of his wet cough. Beau\u2019s body surged forward in his fit, and the open back of his hospital gown revealed a multitude of red and purple sores. There were two small spots on Beau\u2019s face, but the sight of his back sent a series of shivers down Todd\u2019s spine. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cYou don\u2019t have to sit up with the dead if they ain\u2019t dead yet, boy,\u201d Beau said, the side of his mouth cracking into a weak smile, \u201cI\u2019ve chased the two of them off. What\u2019ll it take to make you leave me be?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cCher and a Hawaiian vacation,\u201d said Todd.<\/span><\/p>\nAnother cough ensued. \u201cCher. <\/span>Share<\/span><\/i>,\u201d Beau imitated Todd\u2019s accent, moving his lips slowly, \u201cThe only cher you ever had was the one who loved Sonny. Damn Yankees.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cI\u2019m not a Yankee either,\u201d Todd snickered.<\/span><\/p>\nBeau Aucoin paused and a meek expression washed over his face.<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cWas he beautiful?\u201d Beau asked, adjusting his blanket to cover his right foot. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cWho?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cThe boy you kissed.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cOh,\u201d said Todd, \u201cWell, sure, I guess.\u201d Todd didn\u2019t mention the way the smell of his breath was stuck in his head, sneaking from his memory into his nose every few minutes. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cI haven\u2019t kissed Gabe since, well\u2014tell me, Toddy,\u201d Beau said, \u201cWhat\u2019s it like to kiss somebody? It\u2019s been months.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cWhat do you mean it\u2019s been months? Can\u2019t Gabe\u2014\u201c<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cI pay far more attention to the art of dying than making passion marks, boy. I hardly ever let him.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cYou\u2019re not going to die, Beau.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cWhat\u2019s a kiss like?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n
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