Friday, September 9, 2016

Michael D. Brown


You know that part when you begin to recognize the turn of events because you kind of feel you have lived through them before, but you are not certain as to how things will turn out, and it leaves you feeling a little nauseous? It is like living under a microscope and being observed by a doctor, who is in fact yourself, not quite up to the task. Eric joined a repertory group and though he did not get to play any big parts, he would sit in the wings of the theater before and after his bits watching German Mackie perform the lead. The beautiful young man had every nuance down pat and was hailed as a likely candidate to move onto Hollywood after he finished school. Eric had never been so attracted to another male, but felt something akin to love as he watched German gesturing and emoting. He could not say if it was the acting or the actor which held him entranced, and although it was a familiar feeling strangely without precedence, he likened it to the man who steps in manure, ruining a good pair of shoes only to find himself blessed with luck of a different kind.
He knew there were several young women in the audience, equally entranced, who would never have a chance with German because through daily observance, he ascertained the actor favored male companionship. Once they went shopping for props together. Another time, they shared lunch, and though nothing intimate occurred between them, Eric longed for moments alone with German.
One day, after Eric was given some extra lines, some of the other young men in the production in a pique claimed this had come about because the two were boyfriends. As a sort of prank, while changing in the locker room, they all finished and left the two alone, but they waited outside for the right moment to reenter and discovered Eric still undressed and staring at German as he toweled off. “You were ogling him to try and get more lines,” the boldest of them said, “You’re in love with him.”
German and Eric looked at each other for a long silent minute.
“And how do you know,” German suddenly asked the other boy, “I wasn’t inviting him to do so?”
The intruders left in a huff, but Eric never discussed possibilities of any further sort with the object of his affection. In the back of his mind he felt emotions that were confusing him had caused greater problems in another life. He had acted upon something that rippled through a future that now was impossible.
He acted in only one more production before giving it up entirely.
Shortly afterward he signed up for flying lessons with one of the homeliest young pilots he had ever met, and felt nothing more towards him than the relationship of student to teacher.

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Michael D. Brown's books on Goodreads Bastille Day reviews: 2 ratings: 3 (avg rating 5.00...