Satin Stephanois – Part 1
By
I didn’t realise how hard this was gonna be, but the
doctors say it will help me to get over it if I talk about it. I can’t quite bring myself to talk about it,
but I figured writing about it is pretty much the same thing. It’s just as hard anyway.
Firstly, let me say that I was never quite convinced about
Quatre and Dorothy. Quatre always said
he suspected that his family and the Catalonias had made a kind of arrangement
between them and the two of them, Dorothy and he, just went along with it
because it was the path of least resistance.
‘Just until someone else comes along’ he always said, but no-one else
ever did. Well not until..., but let me
not get ahead of myself. Heero gets so
pissed with me because he says I always do this when I’m telling a story. Well he used to anyway, but I haven’t told a
story for some time now and he hasn’t been pissed at me about anything lately.
I suppose the whole thing began around eight years ago, at
the Peacecraft Foundation Gala Performance after-show party. We were all around eighteen or so then,
freshmen at college with our whole lives ahead of us. Both families, the Winners and the Catalonias had donated very
publicly and very generously to the Foundation, a charitable organisation, and
so were virtually the guests of honour.
Quatre went with Dorothy of course, but he was as half-hearted about it
as always.
“Just dump her and find someone else.” I kept telling him.
“My family would kill me Duo.” He always replied.
Personally, I would rather be dead than walking out with Dorothy Catalonia, but then I’m
speaking from the fortunate position of having Heero, so perhaps I’m just a
little complacent.
There was never any love lost between Dorothy Catalonia
and I. She thought I was a common
little guttersnipe (which perhaps I was if you look at the thing squarely) and
I thought she was an evil bitch (which she undoubtedly was, whichever way you
cut it). Thankfully though, we didn’t
actually meet up all that often.
Considering the fact that she hated Heero even more than she hated me
and the feeling was quite mutual, cosy little foursomes between us were
definitely non grata. Even though we were best friends, Quatre and
I were from vastly different backgrounds, so Heero and I didn’t exactly move in
the same exalted social circles that Quatre and Dorothy did, which was a
blessing once again. We couldn’t help
but end up fighting whenever we did meet and our constant swiping and bickering
really upset Quatre.
Quatre’s family had no problem with me though,
impoverished background or no, so whenever they threw a party an invite always
came my way, hence my presence at the after-show party that fateful night. The show had been a big-budget variety event
in aid of the Peacecraft Foundation, with tickets on sale at exorbitant prices,
all in a good cause. Quatre had rustled
up a couple of freebie tickets he had claimed (although I secretly suspect he
had paid for them out of his own pocket), so Heero and I had been at the show
as well as the party afterwards, sitting up in the ‘Royal Box’ with the rest of
the Winners, booted and suited to within an inch of our lives. It was great and the only cloud to cover the
sun was Dorothy’s presence.
Anyway, Dorothy notwithstanding, Heero and I had a great
time and had succeeded in forgetting the old witch, when at some point late in
the evening she came up to me and tapped me on the shoulder. I turned round, but the scathing remark that
immediately sprang to mind on seeing her died on my lips as I caught sight of
her worried frown.
“Quatre’s missing” She replied, in answer to my solicitous
enquiry.
“What do you mean missing?” I asked foolishly.
“I mean I can’t find him.” She replied, and it was a measure of her concerned distraction
that there was no trace of the sarcasm that my stupid question so richly
deserved.
It turned out that she was right. Quatre had indeed disappeared. The three of us (Heero, Dorothy and I) spent
some time looking for him and came up empty.
The problem was that we couldn’t enquire too deeply because we didn’t
want to alarm anyone. We eventually
went back to our apartment (Heero’s and mine) and Dorothy deigned to accompany
us. It’s amazing how a shared crisis
can bring people together isn’t it? We
decided that if he hadn’t turned up by the morning, we would raise the
alarm. A person had to have been
missing for 24hrs before the police would do anything about it anyway so we
figured we were okay, and bedded down for what was left of the night.
I had been certain that I couldn’t possibly have slept a
wink, but I must have fallen asleep because I woke up abruptly to the sound of
a peal on our door buzzer. I sat bolt
upright in bed and the events of the previous night came flooding back to me.
“Quatre!” I cried and
forestalled Heero as he rose to answer the door. I ran to the door, threw it open and yes, it was indeed my
erstwhile absent friend, still basically wearing his tuxedo, but with the
bow-tie untied and hanging loosely from the collar of his dress-shirt, the
sleeves of said dress-shirt loosely rolled and his jacket slung nonchalantly
over his shoulder. Wherever he had been
he had had a good time because he looked rested, refreshed and contented.
As I opened the door he stepped forward to enter the apartment
but I stopped him with a hand on his chest, stepping out of the door instead
and pulling the door to behind me, but not so completely as to shut myself
out. As I did so I threw a quick glance
over my shoulder to check that Dorothy was still asleep on the sofa (my recent
good will towards her did not extend to offering her our bed for the
night). Luckily (and amazingly) the
door buzzer had not woken her. I knew
that the poor guy’s ass would be in a sling over this when she caught up with
him, so I wanted to give him a few hours head start.
“Where the hell have you been?” I hissed at him through clenched teeth, “We’ve been searching for
you all night. Dorothy’s asleep on the
sofa in there for Christ’s sake!” I
added emphatically, to prove just how bad things had gotten.
Quatre ignored me completely, looked dreamily up at the
ceiling and said, “Duo, I’ve just met the person I want to spend the rest of my
life with.”
I was momentarily taken aback by his words, but never one
to be stymied by events for long, I quickly rallied and said, “Atta boy!
Did you meet her at the party last night?” He sighed wistfully, but before he could reply I clamped a hand
over his mouth. “Shit, Dorothy’s
up.” I had heard her voice behind the
slightly open door, presumably exchanging a word or two with Heero. “Go now, quickly, before she sees you. Lie low and call me when you can. I’ll make up some excuse for you.” I ushered him down the stairs, deeming it
too dangerous for him to wait around in the hallway for the elevator with
Dorothy at large.
When I went back into the apartment Heero informed me that
Dorothy was in the shower. I brought
him up to date with the situation and together we concocted a cover story. We were quite pleased with ourselves for
having come up with something that would guarantee her refusing to see him for
at least the next week. We told her
that he had had one too many at the party and was sick. Some of the guys found him slumped in the
men’s room and decided to take him home before the press got hold of the
story. She swallowed it hook, line and
sinker, as we knew she would, and she also let rip, cursing Quatre to hell and
back, then swept out of the apartment like an avenging fury, without so much as a thank-you for our hospitality. So keen was she on venting her anger and
vowing bitter retribution, it hardly seems to have occurred to her that poor
Quatre was virtually teetotal and hardly ever touched a drop, leave alone
drinking to excess but then again, therein lay the success of our story so I
couldn’t really complain.
Having thus disposed of the harpie, I waited for Quatre’s
call, eager to hear who the mystery lady was who had spent the night with my
shy, retiring best friend and put that idiot smile on his face. When it finally came I was to have the
surprise of my life which, if I really thought about it, was no real surprise
at all. He called about an hour after
Dorothy left and after having established his whereabouts and appraised him of
the situation regarding Dorothy, I cut to the chase.
“So, who was she then?”
I asked.
“Oh Duo,” Came the winsome reply, “He’s just so wonderful,
and he’s so beautiful. Our eyes met
across the crowded ballroom last night
and I knew instantly that he was the only one for me. He’s got the most amazing green eyes and...”
“He?” I queried
incredulously, fighting to get a word in edgeways.
“Yes.” Quatre
replied without missing a beat. “His
name’s Trowa. Isn’t that
wonderful? ‘Trowa’, it simply rolls off
the tongue.”
Well, I thought, something was gonna roll when this got
out, and it wasn’t gonna be Trowa’s name.
I thought I had better check that I had things straight.
“So he’s a guy huh, the one you spent last night
with?” I asked, interrupting another
catalogue of green-eyed Trowa’s attributes.
“Yes, I told you.”
Quatre replied impatiently. “And
you needn’t say it like that. All we
did last night was talk. He’s just so
wonderful Duo...” And so on, and so
forth...
It turned out that green-eyed Trowa was one of the
performers from last night’s show. I
remembered his act once Quatre had mentioned it. He was one of a group of circus performers who did an absolutely
amazing acrobatic/high-wire act. They
were by far and away the best act in the show and received a well-deserved
standing ovation for their pains. I
remembered green-eyed Trowa too, well his body anyway. Weeell, I might have Heero, but I’m not
blind, deaf and dumb. The strangest
thing was that, while listening to Quatre wax lyrical about his new-found beau,
it never seemed to have occurred to him that it was in any way strange that he,
an apparent heterosexual, should be speaking this way about another guy. I thought I might just broach the subject
one more time.
“So Q, this guy Trowa, he’s like, a guy right?”
“Yes Duo, he’s a guy.
Why do you keep asking me that?”
Quatre’s reply was testy, but then again, so was mine.
“BECAUSE YOU’VE GOT A FUCKING GIRLFRIEND!” I retorted. This shot seemed to have hit home. He was silent for a while, a long while, and when he finally
spoke again he was more subdued.
“Oh, I um..., I forgot about her.”
“Evidently.” I
replied briefly.
“I suppose it is rather odd, when you think about
it.” He conceded.
“Isn’t it?” I
agreed dryly. “You arrive at a party
with a girl and leave with a guy. Yes,
one could describe the situation as ‘rather odd’.” Then we were right back on the subject du jour.
“I’d really like you to meet him. You and
Heero, of course. I’ve told him all
about you both, and he’s dying to meet you.
Are you free this evening? He
has to practise today so he can’t do lunch, but we’ve agreed to meet this
evening...”
Heero and I met green-eyed Trowa that evening and we
discovered that it wasn’t all hyperbole on Quatre’s part. He was
beautiful (though not as beautiful as Heero) and he did have the most amazing green eyes, not to mention the most
‘floppy, cinnamon hair. He was also
quite..., I hesitate to say quiet because that wasn’t quite it. There was a stillness and serenity about him
that I found almost fey, and Heero found just plain weird. He was quite obviously besotted with our
Quatre though, and the two of them hardly took their eyes (or their hands) off
each other all evening. This was quite
refreshing to see, because in all the time that Quatre and Dorothy were dating,
this was something that we never saw, not ever. It was also not a little worrying, because Quatre had quite a
high-profile life, and that profile did not include a male lover! If he kept this up in public, it was only a
matter of time before he was snapped by some newspaper photographer, then the
shit really would hit the fan. Heero
and I had dinner with Quatre and green-eyed Trowa, then we left them,
green-eyed Trowa having passed muster and been deemed a suitable companion for
our friend.
Quatre disappeared for the next three days, but I was no
longer worried, since I knew that he was safe and happy, in the arms of
green–eyed Trowa. He had his own
apartment, so his family were none the wiser about his reckless behaviour, but this
situation could change at any moment, and it was this that worried me. On Heero’s advice I tried to persuade Quatre
to tell his family and, more importantly, Dorothy before they read it in the
morning papers. He was reluctant at
first, perhaps understandably, but this was not due to the fact that he was
about to come out of the closet but because his new boyfriend was a circus
performer with no money or connections, and I don’t say that Q’s family were
snobs, but I too suspected that it was the latter rather than the former that
would outrage them more. His father
would be cool about it (eventually) but his bevy of sisters and brothers in law
would hit the roof, and so it proved (but that’s another story). He whined a bit about how all he wanted was
to be with Trowa and why was it so big a deal anyway and why couldn’t everyone
just leave them alone, but he saw sense eventually.
Quatre was also under pressure to break the news about
green-eyed Trowa and he because of Dorothy.
He could only avoid her for so long, but since he and Trowa seemed
compelled to spend every waking moment together (and every other moment for
that matter), it was only a matter of time before she ran into them both. Anyway, this was the height of the social
‘season’ and Quatre and Dorothy were expected to turn up to various society
functions together. The story Heero and
I had spun had long since worn thin, Dorothy’s ire had cooled and Quatre was no
longer persona non grata. He trod water for a little while,
accompanying her to one or two parties, but he was not able to keep it up. It was not in his nature to string her along
like that. While he did not want her as
a partner (for obvious reasons as it transpired), he didn’t particularly
dislike her as a person (unlike myself) and he felt that she deserved better
than that. Well perhaps she did, but
Quatre also realised that there was no easy way to do what he had to do because
of Dorothy’s volatile nature. If she
knew, then everyone would know. He
decided to tell his father first (who would then inform the rest of the
family), then Dorothy, then let the rest of the dominoes topple as they would.
All things considered, breaking the news to his father
could have gone worse. I wasn’t privy
to the conversation, but I had a blow-by-blow account of it from Quatre
himself. Quatre had wanted me along for
moral support, but I figured that having me there would only rub salt into the
wound. I knew that I would be blamed
for leading him astray, since I was openly gay and the whole Winner family knew
it. Heero and I always attended the
Winner functions we were invited to as a couple. We were tolerated, but never really accepted, his family being a
little narrow minded when it came to people like us. Not only were we ‘blue collar’, but we were ‘blue collar’ and
gay! It couldn’t get any worse as far
as they were concerned. It didn’t
bother Heero and I any, but it didn’t exactly bode well for Quatre and green-eyed
Trowa. He was even more ‘blue-collar’
than we were. He lived in a trailer for
Christ’s sake! I could just see the
headlines ‘WINNER HEIR SHACKS UP WITH TRAILER TRASH TRAPEEZ ARTIST’ – real
class.
As I said, it could have been worse. Mr Winner blew up, then boiled down, blew up
again and then, businessman that he was, he telephoned his PR people and asked
them how he could turn the situation to the advantage of WEI.
“There’s got to be an angle here,” He barked into the
telephone, “There’s always and angle. I
want a proposal on my desk by Monday morning.” This was Friday evening.
Mr Winner then laid down his terms. He told Quatre that he (Mr Winner) tolerated
homosexuality but he could never accept it (just as I had suspected). He just didn’t think it was right. He said that Quatre could live whatever
depraved kind of lifestyle he wanted, all he would be expected to do would be
to provide an heir. He would remain in
the bosom of the Winner family, his generous allowance would continue, and he
would still enjoy the benefits of being the heir to the Winner fortune. The family would stand by him, loyally
support and defend him publicly (Mr Winner would see to it). However, he would be expected to father a
son within five years, a son whose mother had an exemplary family background,
exceptional breeding, and an unimpeachable reputation. The child would also have to be conceived
and born within wedlock.
“This is all I ask of you and if you fail to comply,
consider yourself no son of mine.”
Harsh words, but he did cut Quatre a little slack by
offering to arrange the marriage for him.
“If need be I will find young woman whose family could be
persuaded to allow her to marry you, but the rest would be up to you.”
I wondered how much ‘’persuasion’ would make anyone allow
their daughter to marry under such circumstances, and it occurred to me that
green-eyed Trowa was coming at quite a price, both financial and
otherwise. Before all this it was
generally assumed that Quatre would marry Dorothy and everything would be a
foregone conclusion. A fate worse than
death if you ask me, but then perhaps I’m no judge.
‘I hope he’s worth it Q’, I thought.
Quatre told me that he deemed it wisest not to argue,
considering himself as having gotten off fairly lightly. He figured that his father would come round
eventually, that the wound was still raw and Mr Winner was just angry. He felt sure that his father couldn’t
possibly force his own son into a loveless marriage, leave alone insist on
bringing a child into such a union. I
myself was not so sanguine. Quatre was
ever an idealist and I secretly believed that this was more wishful thinking on
his part than anything else.
When he broke the news to Dorothy I was once again only
given the story by Quatre, but I’m sure it lost nothing in the telling. He seemed more affected by this revelation
than he had when he broke the news to his father.
“She didn’t do any of the things I expected her to do,” He
told me. “She just sat there in stunned
silence for a long while, then she began to cry. Not hysterically as I expected, but quietly, and so pitifully
that it almost broke my heart. I tried
to comfort her but she drew away from me as if I were a leper. ‘I’ll never survive the humiliation’ she
kept saying. ‘I’ll never be able to
hold my head up again’.”
This statement was a typical Dorothy exaggeration. She did survive the humiliation and she held
her head up just as high as she always had.
The furore waxed and waned. The news that the Winner heir was gay was a ‘nine day’s
wonder’. Quatre Winner and Trowa Barton
(that was green-eyed Trowa’s surname) were big news for a few weeks then, as
these things do, the whole thing died down.
It did no end of good to green-eyed Trowa’s circus troupe though. They were quite popular anyway, but they
turned over millions at the box office, due to people coming along to get a
look at him. Green-eyed Trowa couldn’t
deal with it though. I always found him
a little strange, but he became even stranger and the relationship between
Quatre and he became more and more intense.
Q, Heero and I continued our studies at college and though
Q was a little more distracted now, his grades didn’t slip one little bit and
he was still the model student.
Green-eyed Trowa finished his season with the circus, but it was a
travelling show and when the troupe upped-sticks and moved to another city, he
decided not to go with them since by this time Quatre and he were inseparable.
Anyone who thought that Q was just going through a phase
with this gay thing (specifically his wishfully thinking family) was destined for
disappointment. Two years on and
green-eyed Trowa and he were both as completely in love as two people could
ever be. Quatre seemed ecstatically
happy and I was pleased that my friend had finally found the love that had
eluded him for so long, but I discovered something about green-eyed Trowa that
gave me a few reservations.
I have to say that although Heero and I got along fine
with him, green-eyed Trowa had always been weird. I remember that Heero had spotted it the first time we ever met
him, but it took me a while before I finally saw what Heero had seen straight
off. The fact is that he never seemed
to be altogether there. Now by this I
mean that although he might be sitting right there with us, he never seemed to
be wholly there. It’s hard to put into
words, especially since as time went on his strange behaviour became so much
the norm that we ceased to even notice it, but he always seemed... distracted,
as though he were present in body, but only half in mind. If you spoke to him he would answer off pat
as if he had been paying full attention the whole time, which he may well have
been, but if you looked closely at him while talking to him you would notice
that although he seemed to be looking at you, his gaze was glassy and
unfocussed, as if he were thinking about something else, although he kept his
end of the conversation up perfectly.
If you watched him for a while you would notice him suddenly tense, as
if he had heard something, then his eyes would dart around the room as if
looking for something. Then at times he
seemed so nervous and tense that I would wonder whether Q and he had had a
fight (a ludicrous idea really), but then they would be as ‘all over each
other’ as they always were, completely dispelling that unlikely theory.
Quatre always acted as if nothing untoward was happening
and that green-eyed Trowa was acting completely normally. Heero and I used to wonder whether he might
be on drugs of some kind. I made up my
mind to ask Q about it, but Heero eventually dissuaded me, telling me to just
leave well alone, quite wisely as it turned out. How we eventually discovered what green-eyed Trowa’s problem
actually was was perfectly simple and required no effort on our part. We were simply told.
It was about three years after green-eyed Trowa and Quatre
had met. Trowa had left the circus as I
said, and he and Q were living together in Q’s apartment. We had just finished our finals prior to
graduating and Q had invited us over for a celebratory dinner. Green-eyed Trowa had a sister, Catherine,
who used to perform at the circus with him and she was visiting with them at
the time. However, when we got to the
apartment only Catherine and Chang Wufei where there. Chang Wufei kind of worked for Quatre. Wufei’s father held the post of secretary-cum-general factotum to
Quatre’s father and now Wufei performed the same services for Quatre, although
he was more of a friend than an employee.
He was around the same age as the rest of us and he was just one of the
gang really, except he got paid for it.
Nice work, if you can get it.
Wufei let us into the apartment and showed us into the
lounge, telling us that Quatre and green-eyed Trowa had stepped out for a short
while. Catherine was there though, and
after exchanging a few pleasantries, it was she who unwittingly let the cat out
of the bag.
“Trowa’s going through a bad patch again.” She said with a heavy sigh.
I had turned to her with a puzzled frown, about to ask
what she meant, but Heero’s warning glance checked me. I schooled my features into a mask of
empathy.
“Again?” I said,
hoping that this would encourage her to continue. It did.
“Yes.” She
replied. “He’s refusing to take his
medication, and you know what that means.
Quatre told me that he’s booked Trowa into a clinic though. It’s supposed to be the best in the world at
treating people with paranoid schizophrenia.
It has a very good reputation and Trowa has finally agreed to go, so
hopefully he should begin to improve soon.”
So that was it. I
glanced across at Heero and saw that even he was affected by Catherine’s
startling revelation. I’m sure she didn’t notice a thing, but I knew
him too well to be fooled. I can read
his apparent lack of expression like a book and I could see that he was as
surprised as I was. Paranoid
schizophrenia? Shit, that was some
heavy baggage green-eyed Trowa was carrying.
“Trowa had been edgy all day really” She continued, “And
begun to get a little agitated about some ‘little worms’ he said were crawling
across the carpet to get him,” She gave me an apologetic little smile at this
point, “so Quatre suggested that they go out for a little walk and that perhaps
the ‘worms’ would be gone by the time they returned.” I nodded sagely and she continued. “Quatre has been so good for Trowa,” She said, “He’s perfect for
him. Trowa responds so well to him and
Quatre is so patient and understanding.
He always seems to know just what to do when Trowa has his little
problems and he loves him so much, despite everything. He truly is a godsend.” Heero and I nodded our agreement that Quatre
was indeed a ministering angel but before we could glean anything further,
voices from the hallway heralded Quatre and Trowa’s return.
Quatre entered the lounge and took us all in at a
glance. As he did so his welcoming
smile faltered. It was almost
imperceptible and I’m sure Catherine once again noticed nothing, but Heero and
I both did. Quatre recovered himself
immediately, but the game was up – he knew it and we knew it.
We all had dinner together and nothing was said at the
time. Green-eyed Trowa behaved much as
he always did and the evening was a resounding success. This being said though, watching Quatre and
Trowa interact with each other , Quatre’s protective, almost ‘mothering’
attitude towards Trowa now made a lot of sense. I had always noticed it of course, but Quatre was just that kind
of guy anyway, and add to this the fact that he was completely besotted with
Trowa, the thing seemed perfectly natural.
After what Catherine had said however, it seemed even more natural, and
she was quite right, Quatre was perfect for Trowa. Later on during the evening Quatre got me alone on the balcony on
some pretext.
“She told you didn’t she?” He began with out preamble.
We didn’t look at each other, we simply stood side by, arms leaning
against the balustrade, looking out at the city lights.
“She didn’t mean to,” I replied, “She assumed we already
knew.”
“I knew she would,” He said, “That’s why I left you alone together.”
I should have known. Quatre may have
been soft as a mitten and mild as a ham, but he certainly wasn’t stupid. “I’ve
wanted you to know for so long but it wasn’t my secret to tell.” He continued. “I promised Trowa you see, I
promised him quite early on in our relationship that I wouldn’t tell
anyone. I don’t think for one moment
that he meant I shouldn’t tell you and Heero, but I did promise, and a promise
had better be a promise to someone with Trowa’s... difficulties.” I nodded my
understanding even though he couldn’t see me.
“How long have you known?” I asked.
“From the start.”
He replied. “He told me that first night we met, when we spent the night
talking. He told me all about himself,
so there isn’t anything I don’t know about him.”
“And you still took him on.” It was an observation not a question, but he replied nonetheless.
“Of course. I
loved him – how could I do otherwise?
From the first moment I saw him I knew I loved him. He could have told me he had leprosy, it
wouldn’t have made the slightest bit of difference to me. He was the one I wanted, whatever the
circumstances.”
“Do you feel any different now?” I had to ask, even though I well knew what the answer would
be. He laughed, somewhat mirthlessly I
thought, and said,
“No Duo, not one bit.
Only death will part Trowa and I.”
The doom-laden voice in which he said this made me feel
decidedly uneasy, so to lighten the mood a little I said,
“You’re an amazing guy Quatre and if I wasn’t in love with
Heero I’d be in love with you. I hope
green-eyed Trowa knows how lucky he is.”
He laughed again, good naturedly this time, and he pulled
me into a tight hug.
“I love you too Duo,” He murmured into my ear, “And I’m
the lucky one, having a boyfriend like Trowa and a best friend like you.”
To be continued.
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