Happy New Year, Sherm
Happy New Year to all of you! Hope this is a good one. It started off a little slow for me, but I'll get over it. Enjoy, Ran
******************************
This is, by far, one of the weirdest and least explicable things I have ever done. Tonight, Justin and I are spending New Year’s Eve with Phillip, Cat and whatever rag bag friends Phillip decides to invite. I despise New Year’s Eve parties even more than I despise most parties and that’s saying a lot. At least the food will be good with Emmett catering. Although I’ll be on the lookout for those damned black eyes peas I feel sure he’ll sneak into some dish, since he claims they’re a token of good luck in the south. The champagne will also be world class with Phillip buying. I don’t expect Michael will be on the list nor could he gate crash the excellent security at the Dakota. Nor will Phillip require funny hats and noisemakers to ring in the New Year.
I know I have to face Michael’s bullshit sooner or later, but my heart isn’t in it right now. My entire relationship with my son has been a battleground that has nothing to do with our feelings for each other and that gets old fast. It’s been snowing again, but it’s a friendly little scattering, not a blizzard. It melts off the dark cashmere of my overcoat as soon as I enter the relative warmth of the jail, doing my inexplicable portion of the evening early.
The first steps of reconstruction have begun, which means everything moveable has been removed and replaced with the accoutrements of construction. I turn on a light and pick my way around sawhorses and tools I want to know nothing about. Carrying a bottle of champagne wrapped in clear yellow cellophane, I call his name as I go.
Sherm appears at the top of the stairs, greeting me with a quiet smile. “Why aren’t you out celebrating?”
“I will be. I thought I’d share a toast with you, first.”
“With me?” He looks surprised and flattered, if in fact a ghost can look surprised and flattered.
“Yes,” I say as I rip off the paper and uncork the Cristal.
“I can’t drink that, Brian. Or anything for that matter,” he says with a sigh as I pull two flutes from my pocket and fill them both.
“I know. But here’s to you, Sherm. My first new friend in New York City. My lucky charm. You sold me on this place, you made it seem real to me, you introduced me to your incredible aunt, Sophie, whom my partner has adopted, you gave us a place to stay, even though I do have to question your taste in décor, and my account portfolio may just be getting a big boost for the new year. I don’t believe in ghosts nor do I believe in lucky charms, but seeing as you’re here and my luck seems to have changed, what the fuck do I know? Happy New Year, Sherm. You haven’t aged a bit.”
He smiles and mimics holding up a glass to be tapped as I tap the flute he can’t touch. I drink his champagne and mine. The warmth so beautifully crafted by the masters at Louis Roederer spreads through me like a sunny day.
“Such a handsome man has never toasted me on New Year’s, Brian. Thanks for that.”
“Oh come on, Sherm. I’m sure you had your day.”
“Look at me. Would you have bought me a glass of champagne?”
I shrug. “You never know.” But we both do.
“So it’s a treat now, even though nothing can come of it. It’s a treat.”
“I hope the noise and disruption around here doesn’t make it difficult for you, Sherm.”
“Not at all. It gets boring around this place. It’s nice to have new men and new activities to observe.”
“They can’t see you, right? I can’t afford a work slow down because of ghostly sightings.”
He laughs. “Only you.”
“Why is that?”
“I don’t know, Brian. Maybe because you’re my fantasy.”
“Your fantasy?”
“Every man has a fantasy, right? Someone you dream about, even though you know there’s no hope of anything between you. Because in real life, the fantasy man wouldn’t look at you twice. But in your head, he’s always there, with a smile and a bottle of champagne and a hard cock. My fantasy looked much like you. Acted a little like you, too. Maybe my long lost feelings of longing were so strong that when you walked in that door, I was able to become visible to you.”
“I’ve never been a fantasy before,” I say with a smile.
“You’re naïve if you believe that, Brian.”
“A nightmare maybe.”
“Do you really believe that?”
I shrug. “I can be.”
“So, where do you go tonight?”
“Party at a friend’s. I’ll sweep by and pick up Justin and then we’ll go over to the Dakota where he lives.”
“Beautiful building. Love the gargoyles.”
“I’d ask you along, but…”
He laughs, “Yeah, I know. There’s that threshold issue.”
“Sherm, I have a son.”
“Really? Congratulations. Were you married once?”
“No, the Dixie cup conception, you know the drill. But I love him and they want to take him away from me. They are always trying to take him away from me. I knew it was a risk when I left Pittsburgh, but I never intended to leave Gus. I just intended for us to have a traveling relationship. Now they want to say that I abandoned him. I pay child support. I talk to him almost every day on the phone. I’ve been waiting until we had a place before I brought him here for a visit, and now we do. I don’t want to lose him. But my life is so complicated right now. It’s so hard to keep all the balls in the air. The new account, the construction, the staffing, the new apartment, Justin’s new studio, it’s all floating.”
“If you were going to prioritize things, Brian, what comes first?” I refill a flute and then fill his, and say,
“Gus.”
“Well, then. There’s your answer. Work back from that.”
I smile at him. He does give me a strange sense of grounding, perhaps because he himself is so grounded here, trapped, I suppose, on this plane. “I’d better go. You have a wonderful new year, Sherm. Go upstairs and watch the fireworks. Think about your own priorities. Isn’t there somewhere you’d rather be than here?”
“You’d miss me if I were gone.”
“I would, but I’m not that selfish.”
He takes my meaning with a smile. “Brian, you’re forgetting your champagne.”
“It’s for you.”
“But I can’t…”
“You know it’s here. You can see it. Maybe even smell it, I don’t know. But it’s for you. Let the workmen polish it off when they show up, even thought it’ll be flat by then.”
“But it’s such a great bottle to waste.”
“It’s not a waste to me.”
“Happy New Year, Brian,” he says and I reach into my other pocket and pull out a shiny purple peaked hat with the new year spelled out in gold foil and place it beside the bottle.
“Happy New Year, Sherm. Party on.”
I turn and leave him there with a last wave, escaping to my idling limo as I go to collect my lover. We’ll travel to spend the evening with our live friends. I know this little celebration with Sherm was crazy and probably a figment of my over-burdened mind, but it gave me a sense of peace and if it did in fact happen the way I imagined it did, I suspect it was one of the better New Year’s Eve celebrations in his history, which makes me wonder again, why he so wants to stay.
******************************
This is, by far, one of the weirdest and least explicable things I have ever done. Tonight, Justin and I are spending New Year’s Eve with Phillip, Cat and whatever rag bag friends Phillip decides to invite. I despise New Year’s Eve parties even more than I despise most parties and that’s saying a lot. At least the food will be good with Emmett catering. Although I’ll be on the lookout for those damned black eyes peas I feel sure he’ll sneak into some dish, since he claims they’re a token of good luck in the south. The champagne will also be world class with Phillip buying. I don’t expect Michael will be on the list nor could he gate crash the excellent security at the Dakota. Nor will Phillip require funny hats and noisemakers to ring in the New Year.
I know I have to face Michael’s bullshit sooner or later, but my heart isn’t in it right now. My entire relationship with my son has been a battleground that has nothing to do with our feelings for each other and that gets old fast. It’s been snowing again, but it’s a friendly little scattering, not a blizzard. It melts off the dark cashmere of my overcoat as soon as I enter the relative warmth of the jail, doing my inexplicable portion of the evening early.
The first steps of reconstruction have begun, which means everything moveable has been removed and replaced with the accoutrements of construction. I turn on a light and pick my way around sawhorses and tools I want to know nothing about. Carrying a bottle of champagne wrapped in clear yellow cellophane, I call his name as I go.
Sherm appears at the top of the stairs, greeting me with a quiet smile. “Why aren’t you out celebrating?”
“I will be. I thought I’d share a toast with you, first.”
“With me?” He looks surprised and flattered, if in fact a ghost can look surprised and flattered.
“Yes,” I say as I rip off the paper and uncork the Cristal.
“I can’t drink that, Brian. Or anything for that matter,” he says with a sigh as I pull two flutes from my pocket and fill them both.
“I know. But here’s to you, Sherm. My first new friend in New York City. My lucky charm. You sold me on this place, you made it seem real to me, you introduced me to your incredible aunt, Sophie, whom my partner has adopted, you gave us a place to stay, even though I do have to question your taste in décor, and my account portfolio may just be getting a big boost for the new year. I don’t believe in ghosts nor do I believe in lucky charms, but seeing as you’re here and my luck seems to have changed, what the fuck do I know? Happy New Year, Sherm. You haven’t aged a bit.”
He smiles and mimics holding up a glass to be tapped as I tap the flute he can’t touch. I drink his champagne and mine. The warmth so beautifully crafted by the masters at Louis Roederer spreads through me like a sunny day.
“Such a handsome man has never toasted me on New Year’s, Brian. Thanks for that.”
“Oh come on, Sherm. I’m sure you had your day.”
“Look at me. Would you have bought me a glass of champagne?”
I shrug. “You never know.” But we both do.
“So it’s a treat now, even though nothing can come of it. It’s a treat.”
“I hope the noise and disruption around here doesn’t make it difficult for you, Sherm.”
“Not at all. It gets boring around this place. It’s nice to have new men and new activities to observe.”
“They can’t see you, right? I can’t afford a work slow down because of ghostly sightings.”
He laughs. “Only you.”
“Why is that?”
“I don’t know, Brian. Maybe because you’re my fantasy.”
“Your fantasy?”
“Every man has a fantasy, right? Someone you dream about, even though you know there’s no hope of anything between you. Because in real life, the fantasy man wouldn’t look at you twice. But in your head, he’s always there, with a smile and a bottle of champagne and a hard cock. My fantasy looked much like you. Acted a little like you, too. Maybe my long lost feelings of longing were so strong that when you walked in that door, I was able to become visible to you.”
“I’ve never been a fantasy before,” I say with a smile.
“You’re naïve if you believe that, Brian.”
“A nightmare maybe.”
“Do you really believe that?”
I shrug. “I can be.”
“So, where do you go tonight?”
“Party at a friend’s. I’ll sweep by and pick up Justin and then we’ll go over to the Dakota where he lives.”
“Beautiful building. Love the gargoyles.”
“I’d ask you along, but…”
He laughs, “Yeah, I know. There’s that threshold issue.”
“Sherm, I have a son.”
“Really? Congratulations. Were you married once?”
“No, the Dixie cup conception, you know the drill. But I love him and they want to take him away from me. They are always trying to take him away from me. I knew it was a risk when I left Pittsburgh, but I never intended to leave Gus. I just intended for us to have a traveling relationship. Now they want to say that I abandoned him. I pay child support. I talk to him almost every day on the phone. I’ve been waiting until we had a place before I brought him here for a visit, and now we do. I don’t want to lose him. But my life is so complicated right now. It’s so hard to keep all the balls in the air. The new account, the construction, the staffing, the new apartment, Justin’s new studio, it’s all floating.”
“If you were going to prioritize things, Brian, what comes first?” I refill a flute and then fill his, and say,
“Gus.”
“Well, then. There’s your answer. Work back from that.”
I smile at him. He does give me a strange sense of grounding, perhaps because he himself is so grounded here, trapped, I suppose, on this plane. “I’d better go. You have a wonderful new year, Sherm. Go upstairs and watch the fireworks. Think about your own priorities. Isn’t there somewhere you’d rather be than here?”
“You’d miss me if I were gone.”
“I would, but I’m not that selfish.”
He takes my meaning with a smile. “Brian, you’re forgetting your champagne.”
“It’s for you.”
“But I can’t…”
“You know it’s here. You can see it. Maybe even smell it, I don’t know. But it’s for you. Let the workmen polish it off when they show up, even thought it’ll be flat by then.”
“But it’s such a great bottle to waste.”
“It’s not a waste to me.”
“Happy New Year, Brian,” he says and I reach into my other pocket and pull out a shiny purple peaked hat with the new year spelled out in gold foil and place it beside the bottle.
“Happy New Year, Sherm. Party on.”
I turn and leave him there with a last wave, escaping to my idling limo as I go to collect my lover. We’ll travel to spend the evening with our live friends. I know this little celebration with Sherm was crazy and probably a figment of my over-burdened mind, but it gave me a sense of peace and if it did in fact happen the way I imagined it did, I suspect it was one of the better New Year’s Eve celebrations in his history, which makes me wonder again, why he so wants to stay.