Sora and Declan
Richard Natale
Declan Kalimar’s fascination with Sora Hayashi had been building for some time, if imperceptibly, like individual leaves of onion skin paper one upon the other.
Sora had a great deal to recommend. He was talented, and bright, and a dedicated friend. Yet, it caught Declan up short when his regard for Sora exploded into full-on desire.
They’d met through Declan’s late paramour Myrna Lyons, and were now working together on the new musical, Day of Leisure, an updating of a venerable French farce. Sora was designing the show’s costumes and Declan was assigned one of the leads, a comically hapless philanderer who receives a comeuppance from his patient wife.
He was seated in the almost empty theater memorizing lines, when Sora appeared from the wings. Declan followed his movements across the stage, sylphlike but also athletic. When Sora stopped part way to chat with the show’s set designer, he stood with his legs wide apart, planted firmly, his tight rump thrust outward, and Declan experienced a clench of yearning in his gut.
How, until now, had Sora’s sensuality not registered with him? True, he was no strutting peacock. His allure was subtler though it went tongue in groove with his unique aesthetic. Declan had long been an admirer of his understated yet regal presence. Myrna once mentioned that Sora was a descendent of “some kind of noble Japanese ancestry.” He didn’t make much of it. Myrna could be vague and provocative, and on occasion, both at the same time.
Even in a crowded room, the eye traveled to Sora. He projected a quiet confidence. In social situations, he tended toward the laconic, which made his unexpected flashes of wit all the more delicious. He engaged with Declan easily, without a trace of fawning. Since becoming a household name via a hit TV sitcom, Declan traveled under a permanent pin light, which even for an actor with a healthy ego could be tiresome.
Their friendship had deepened in the months leading up to Myrna’s death. Sora had provided support and counsel without ever being obtrusive, always available if needed, and invisible in moments demanding privacy and reflection. Declan welcomed his calming influence amidst the chaos that so often typifies the dying process–the sudden remissions followed by equally spontaneous reversals. Working together now on the new musical with the memory of Myrna’s passing still fresh in their minds, while a bittersweet reminder, had brought them even closer, like two old army buddies reconnecting after having endured the trenches.
Could this shift in perspective on Declan’s part be an accumulation of all these disparate factors? Strange, he thought, how someone in the wings of his life could, in an instant, move to the center.
As Declan continued to gaze at him enrapt, Sora turned and broke into a wide smile. “There you are,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you. Would you be available this evening after rehearsal to try on some wardrobe?”
Declan struggled to fashion a reply. “Uh…uh…sure thing. Can it wait until I have dinner with my kid and put him to bed?”
Sora puffed out his lower lip. “Sure. If it doesn’t get too late,” he said.
“Benedick’s usually tucked away by seven-thirty, eight at the latest. Does that work for you?”
“Think I have enough to keep me busy until then,” he said, the genial smile crawling up his face again.
As Sora exited stage right, Declan followed him as if he had X-ray vision and could see the cool exertion of every muscle and sinew.
*
Strap-hanging his way down to 8th Street, Declan mulled over his newfound attraction and pondered the obstacles in his way. How might he approach Sora without jeopardizing his jewel box of a life? Not to mention that, in almost every way, he was Sora’s antithesis. As vain as Sora was modest, as fretful and ill-at ease as he was focused and pacific.
Which only made him crave Sora all the more.
Declan’s life had been marked by a series of obfuscations, accommodations and subterfuge; virtually every decision informed by his ambition. His acting career began with an open call, which landed the Jersey-born teenager a flashy supporting role in an off-Broadway comedy; and almost immediately thereafter, a replacement part in a long-running Broadway drama where he came to the notice of the prominent agent Sam Barton. Sam assured Declan that his all-American boy good looks were a refreshing tonic in an era typified by “hippies and dippies and long-hairs.”
The conjugal favors Declan bestowed on Sam in return for taking him under his capable wing – and a nose job – led to his being cast in Accidental Dad, a sitcom about a rootless young man who inherits his late sister’s two, precocious tots. The touching insecurity and heart he brought to the well-meaning but bumbling surrogate father bore strange parallels to his personal life.
At Sam’s encouragement, he married Cynthia Sorel, a young actress he’d co-starred opposite in a production of “Much Ado About Nothing” on the L.A. stage during a hiatus. He was fond of Cynthia, fond enough to father a son, Benedick (named after his “Much Ado” character).
Though planned, the boy’s arrival caught Declan off-guard and he was not remotely embarrassed to find himself playing out every cliché of a smitten, doting father. In his newborn son, he’d found a distraction from his alternating bouts of egotism, self-doubt and repression.
He and Cynthia were planning on a second child when she became embroiled in a new cult called Scientology, causing a strain in the marriage, especially when it became apparent that her recruitment was conceived as a conduit to her high-profile husband. They separated, and when the sitcom ended, divorced. Cynthia married a fellow traveler, who had no intention of raising another man’s child and Declan was granted full custody.
Otherwise, the marriage might have continued, if not indefinitely, then certainly for a few years longer. For the most part, Declan remained faithful to his vows. His agent had moved on to other young male hopefuls, and except for sub-rosa flings with one of the show’s camera operators (also married) and a guest star, he took no chances. With the emergence of the gay rights movement in the early ‘70s, gossip that was once confined to scandal sheets now garnered mainstream attention. One misstep and his TVQ (and his career) would plummet.
After Accidental Dad, Declan turned down another comically sentimental series and returned to New York in hopes of redefining his image. Though he looked no older than when he’d first starred in the sitcom, longevity would necessitate breaking free of the juvenile mold. Like many performers who enjoy a fluke mainstream success, he now wanted to be taken seriously as an actor. The stage, starting with notable supporting roles, became his avenue.
Declan’s relationship with Myrna Lyons, a woman thirty years his senior, began when they were introduced backstage after the opening night of the renowned jazz singer’s one-woman Broadway show. (It was also the first time he met Sora, who had designed her wardrobe, and was one of Myrna’s closest friends and confidantes). Declan had grown up on her records and was hardly the first man to be captivated by her combination of grit and cool. Neither the age difference nor his pent-up sexuality got in the way of their mutual attraction.
Soon he and Benedick were living on the lower floors of Myrna’s brownstone on 10th Street just east of Sixth Avenue. When they were out together they poked fun at the media’s obsession with their May/December romance by referring to each other as “baby boy” and “mama bear.” The relationship, while genuine, also smacked of calculation. It dovetailed with Declan’s desire to refashion his goody two shoes public reputation and reinforce his virility, and it flattered the older woman’s fading sex appeal.
While infatuated with her young lover, Myrna had been around long enough to see through his façade. “You wouldn’t be my first beau who enjoys the occasional boy on the side,” she confessed one night when they were both sufficiently lubricated. “I don’t have a problem with that, so long as you throw me a good fuck every now and then. Deal?”
Declan was relieved that, at least with Myrna, he didn’t have to pretend and she was willing to provide cover for his explorations–within limits of course.
As he trudged up the subway steps, he wondered if Myrna and Sora had ever discussed his sexuality, specifically his dalliance with George, a similarly closeted, if more tortured, neighbor.
If Sora knew, he didn’t let on, but then he was not the type to betray confidences. In his profession, Sora didn’t have to be quite as discreet about his sexuality. He had never denied his relationship with Errol Danowksi, a principal with the New York City Ballet, nor the dancer’s self-destructiveness, which led to its dissolution. He and Errol had marched in the first Pride parade and, over the years, Sora had become a visible public figure in New York’s incipient gay lib movement.
In light of these profound differences, the possibility of an affair between them seemed remote, Declan concluded as he swung open the gate of the ground floor apartment on 10th Street and saw Benedick’s beaming face peering at him from between the bars on the front window.
When Benedick leapt into his arms at the door every evening, the rigors of the day evanesced. But tonight was different. He would be returning to the theater later to confront his new desire. Sexual longing was not alien to him, but heretofore he’d been able to compartmentalize his urges. Instinctively, he sensed that Sora marked a turning point.
And, troublingly, that excited him.
*
“You’re late,” Sora said, looking up from his sketch pad, though it didn’t sound like a reprimand.
“Benedick was a bit rambunctious tonight,” Declan explained. “Amy, (Declan’s sister, who lived with them), bought him cupcakes at the school bake sale and, well, sugar and seven-year-olds…
“Yes,” Sora said, undoing the rubber band that held his rich, jet-black, shoulder-length mane in place.
Declan had a sudden impulse to reach out and stroke Sora’s hair. How delicately it framed his unblemished smooth skin, made him appear pliant, accessible. Then with both hands, Sora pulled it all back tightly and wrapped the rubber band twice around the excess. As he turned and glanced up at Declan, he betrayed a fierceness that punctured Declan’s confidence, but only made him more attractive.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. Been a long day,” Declan said with a nervous laugh.
“I’ll try to make this as quick as possible. Take off your shirt,” Sora commanded.
Clasping his chin in one hand, Sora studied Declan’s bare torso. “You’ve been working out. Good,” he remarked.
“The script has me walking around in my underpants in a couple of scenes. Guy’s got to look his best,” Declan said struggling to maintain a jocular tone, all the while hoping that Sora didn’t notice his rigid nipples.
“Chilly in here,” he said but Sora wasn’t paying attention. He was sifting through a rack of dress shirts. Picking out a pale blue one, he held it against Declan’s face, then tossed it aside. He reached for a slightly darker shade and said, “Here. Try this one.”
The touch of Sora’s long fingers as he buttoned the shirt and smoothed the cotton fabric and pulled it tight and pinned it on the side and back, rippled through Declan’s body. “Feels a little snug now,” Declan said.
“Yeah, but it’s much sexier this way,” he said, matter-of-factly, indicating with his hand that Declan should take off the shirt. “Provided you don’t gain any weight before opening night.”
Declan unbuttoned the shirt and handed it over, Sora opened a drawer and pulled out a jock strap. “Take off your pants. I need you to try on some undershorts.”
Declan held up the jockstrap and eyed it quizzically. “We don’t want any bulges or silhouettes. This is a family show,” Sora explained. “Now go,” he added, pointing to a changing screen.
It took all Declan’s willpower to retain his composure as he stripped and snuggled into the jockstrap. “Ready,” he said, unsteadily.
A disembodied hand proffered a pair of striped underwear. “Boxers?” Declan grimaced.
“Well certainly not BVDs. They’ll make your butt look big,” Sora said.
“I have a big butt?” Declan said, stepping out from behind the screen.
“You have a man’s rear end. Wide set,” Sora said, walking around him. He tugged at the sides of the shorts and shook his head, displeased with the drape. He handed Declan another pair.
“Wide set,” Declan said as if troubled by the description.
“It’s a good thing,” Sora called to him from the other side of the screen. “Gives you gravitas. Myrna said she loved your butt.”
“She said that?” he said, alarmed but also curious.
“We were discussing mutual interests,” he replied. “Men’s bottoms, not specifically yours.”
“I wish you hadn’t told me that,” Declan said.
“Sorry. Can we put it behind us now?” Sora quipped and it took Declan a moment to register the double-entendre.
“These are kind of loose,” Declan stepping out in the new shorts.
“But the color works,” Sora said. He got down on his haunches and gathered the sides of the shorts and pinned them. Declan felt a stirring and closed his eyes tightly wishing it away–unsuccessfully.
When Sora was done, he twisted his head around to Declan’s crotch. “Hmm,” he said and sighed. “That’s too bad. Hope we don’t have to tape you.”
The idea of being taped had the opposite effect on Declan and he quickly retreated behind the screen. As he removed the shorts, a pin got loose and he cried out.
Sora popped his head behind the screen and noticed Declan’s prominence emerging from the athletic supporter. “Oh,” he said, and scooted away.
By the time he’d finished getting dressed, Declan was back to normal. “Involuntary response,” he explained as he handed the pinned shorts to Sora, who didn’t look up from his drawing table.
“Not the first time,” Sora said, as if that would make Declan feel any better.
“Are you done?” he asked. Sora nodded without looking up.
While Declan was pulling on his coat, Sora added, “I don’t think it would be a good idea.”
“What?” Declan said with a nervous warble.
“We work together. We have a past history. We’re friends.”
“Gee, I hope you didn’t get the wrong…”
“I have a great deal of experience with men. I can tell when someone is attracted to me. I’m familiar with the signals, even if the they aren’t.”
“That was just nerves.”
“I meant the way you’ve been looking at me all day.”
“Looking at you?” he said, and his stomach rumbled.
Sora turned up his chin and smiled at Declan. “Why, you’re as red as a ripe peach. I’m flattered.”
Declan shifted from foot to foot and shook his head but couldn’t find the words to reinforce his denial.
“I also know about the neighbor.”
Lowering his eyes, he asked, “Myrna told you about that?”
“She didn’t have to. I saw the two of you leaving his apartment once.”
“If I said he was just a friend…?”
Sora frowned. “Oh Declan, come on. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, though I have to say, except for the fact that he seemed to be as deep in the closet as you, I don’t understand what you saw in him.”
“George is very handsome,” Declan argued, shattering his friendship argument.
“Yeah, but the two of you looked like bookends,” Sora said with a chuckle. “Which I guess makes your attraction to me all the more surprising. I mean, we’ve known each other for several years, but until today, I never imagined that your intentions might not be entirely honorable.”
Declan parked his wide rump on the edge of Sora’s work table. Impulsively, he reached for Sora’s hand, and toyed with his delicate, long fingers. “Does that mean you’re not interested? Is that why you said it wouldn’t be a good idea?”
“I will admit to undressing you on occasion,” Sora said, and this time it was his turn to be embarrassed.
“At least that part’s no mystery anymore,” Declan said with a smile. “Disappointed?”
“Myrna said you looked even better naked. I’ve never known her to lie. But as long as we’re working together…”
“Which is only until opening night,” Declan pointed out, rubbing Sora’s hand between both of his.
“Perhaps we can pick up the discussion then,” Sora said, as he fidgeted with the rubber band and shook his thick hair loose.
“I hope this doesn’t make things between us awkward, but I think you’re beautiful. Uh…handsome. Beautiful and handsome,” Declan said and boldly leaned in and kissed Sora, nibbling on his bottom lip before pulling away. “I apologize, but when you do that with your hair, it gets me going.”
“Would you please go home?” Sora said, playfully.
“See you tomorrow,” Declan said, beaming with confidence. But it was a bluff, like walking out of a successful audition with the lingering presentiment that you’re not going to get the part.
*
Over the subsequent weeks, since Declan and Sora didn’t avoid each other exactly, but kept their interchanges brief. Edie, the costumer’s assistant took over Declan’s fittings. Sora begged off, claiming wardrobe crises with the show’s leading lady, Dina Ford, who was as talented as she was demanding.
Whenever they were in each other’s presence, however, a current of anticipation traveled between them. The casual observer could easily miss the signals: the way they leaned forward when speaking as if exchanging secrets; the discreet physical interactions, a double-cheek greeting that was more than perfunctory, a wardrobe adjustment in which the hand lingered.
At the opening night party, their eyes wandered across the room from whoever they were talking to until they’d located one another. Then a silent reassurance, a nod, a brief smile, a friendly wink.
Day of Leisure received mixed to upbeat notices; only a couple of churlish comments about the TV star who had the audacity to think he could carry a Broadway musical. Audiences, on the contrary, were enthusiastic and the already bullish pre-sales soared after opening night. Declan’s entrance in the first act and the curtain call prompted hearty applause and his “underwear” scenes generated several wolf-whistles.
Declan had just finished showering and was sitting in front of the mirror removing the last stubborn traces of makeup after the Sunday matinee, when Sora knocked at the dressing room door. They exchanged pleasantries about the performance. Then Sora got to the point: “Since the show’s dark tomorrow I was thinking of coming by your place so we can talk, that is if you’re still interested,” he said.
“You know I am,” Declan said. “I’ll be home all day. I’m on dad detail. My sister has a date.”
“I’ll be by around seven. But if it’s okay with you, I’d like to fuck before we talk. I don’t want our discussion to be clouded by sexual tension. Would you have time for that?”
“How about right now?” Declan said as he crossed the room, and locked the door. Pulling Sora to him, Declan dropped his robe and carefully undressed Sora, unpinning his hair as they began to kiss, each one deeper and longer than the other. In one swift motion Declan lifted Sora in his arms and pinned him against the wall. He ran his lips and tongue over Sora’s smooth face and neck and his even smoother, firm torso.
Sora wrapped his legs around him and his moans of expectation were soon superseded by louder expressions of pleasure. Watching as Sora tossed his luxuriant hair with abandon, Declan thought he would lose his mind.
When they were finished, Declan carried Sora to the sofa where they began kissing again and didn’t stop until they were aroused anew, flipping around this time. His body flushed with heat and excitement, Declan bit into Sora’s forearm like a half-ravenous animal.
For Declan, the afternoon was one of discovery, all the elation of the first time combined with the assurance and comfort of long-term lovers. The lovemaking was marked by an absence of awkwardness and an implicit understanding of what Sora wanted and what he wanted from Sora. A running commentary, though neither spoke a word.
The silent communication continued as they dressed and went their separate ways. A nod became a compound sentence, and a tilt of the head a promise to continue the discussion. When he fell into bed naked that night, Declan rubbed the pillow over his unwashed body and inhaled Sora as he fell asleep.
The following evening, Sora arrived exactly at seven. The affectionate kiss in the doorway erred on the side of caution. Declan had spent the day reliving the Sunday matinee after-performance and trying to quell his renewed hunger. Don’t get ahead of yourself, he thought. Let Sora have his say. That he cared so much about the outcome unnerved him.
Usually, sexual desire can be transferred from one vessel to another. He’d done it before. This was different.
“How was your day?” Sora asked as he moved toward the kitchen and sat at the round oak table.
“Benedick’s been fighting a cold so I let him stay home from school,” Declan said. “Would you like some tea?”
“Yes, thanks,” he said and they smiled and held each other’s gaze.
As he put on the kettle, he turned and said, “Tell me everything about yourself. Start in the womb and keep going.”
But Sora didn’t take the bait. “I hope yesterday wasn’t a mistake,” he said. “I was thinking that if we got that out of the way, we could have a serious talk about this thing that’s happening between us.”
“This thing? Do you mean mutual attraction?”
“At this point we can safely say the attraction is mutual,” Sora said.
“I’m glad to hear that, but are you as freaked out by it as I am?” Declan replied, holding his hand in mid-air to reveal a tremble. “Is this common between…?”
“Two men? I guess as common as it is between a man and a woman or two women, which is to say, not all that common.”
“Have you ever felt this way before, because I haven’t?”
“I felt something similar with Edwin. But you’ve…never?”
Declan shook his head. “I’ve had my share of crushes. Nothing like this.”
“Because you have no control over it, right?”
Declan thought about the question. “Uh huh,” he replied. “And I…”
Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by a plaintive call from the floor above. Declan walked to the foot the stairs. “What is it, kiddo?”
“My tummy hurts again,” Benedick said, standing at the top in his pajamas. Declan began climbing the stairs and the two of them met in the middle. He lifted his son and carried him to the kitchen.
“You remember Sora, don’t you?” Declan asked.
Benedick bobbed his head. “I read all the books,” he said in Sora’s direction.
“Did you enjoy them?” Sora said, warmly.
“Yeah,” he said, and moaned slightly.
“Books?” Declan asked as he reached into a kitchen cabinet and removed a small vial of oil. Sitting down at the kitchen table, he lifted Benedick’s shirt. After warming the oil between his palms, he rubbed it into to the boy’s stomach. “Old family remedy,” he explained. “Don’t ask me why, but it always seems to work. You were saying?”
“Oh, yeah. Once when I came to visit Myrna, Benedick and Amy stopped by and we talked about the Eloise novels and I sent him the set,” Sora related.
“Is that where they came from?” Declan asked. “I wondered. Thank you.”
Sora’s smile broadened and they all sat there quietly as Declan gently rocked Benedick. Before long, the boy was asleep. “Be right back,” Declan whispered. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Declan carried Benedick up the stairs. When he returned, Sora said, “sweet boy. How old is he now?”
“Almost eight. He’s small for his age. Same as me. Then when I turned thirteen I shot up light a bean sprout. I’ve lost my train of thought.”
“I think you were trying to tell me that you’re freaking because you’ve fallen for me, if that doesn’t sound presumptuous.”
“You’d know better than I. It feels strange. Like I’ve lost my equilibrium. But in a good way.”
“Oh,” Sora said, his voice tinged with concern. “If that’s the case, we’d better we stop now. I can’t see myself going backwards.”
“Meaning?” Declan said as he moved toward the living area and threw himself on the daybed, grabbing a cushion and pulling it to his chest. Sora got up and followed him.
“Let’s be realistic. You have a career. An image. This is your first Broadway lead. You’re not going to give that up to be with me.”
“Who says I have to? My private life is my private life.”
“If you were just working in the theater, you might have some flexibility. But not if you have other ambitions. I don’t want to sneak around.”
“But you’ve become so important to me,” Declan declared.
“Normally, hearing that would make me very happy.”
“So, what do we do now?”
“We don’t do anything.”
“I don’t think that’s possible after yesterday,” Declan said.
“That was just sex,” Sora argued.
“This time who’s pretending?” Declan said.
“Look. I’m willing to be the bad guy in this,” Sora said. “Even at the cost of our friendship. It’ll sting for a while but believe me…”
Declan jumped up and grabbed Sora by the shoulders. “The only reason I’m not losing it right now is because we are friends, because I’ve always respected you and trusted you.”
“Would it help if I said that, until recently I thought of you mainly as a spoiled brat.”
“You weren’t far wrong.”
“But charming too,” Sora said, softening, stroking Declan’s arm. “If I thought I could handle a secret affair, I’d…”
Declan gritted his teeth. “That’s not what I’m asking for. For me, the sex only confirmed what I’ve been feeling.”
Sora shook his wild mane, angry. “No. I will not be the guy who screws up your life. It will only drag us both down.”
The truth of Sora’s statement stung and Declan covered his face with his hands.
“I’m not asking you to choose. I’m making the choice for you, for both of us” Sora said, and got up to leave.
Declan jumped to his feet and grabbed him. “Don’t give up just yet. Please.”
“Why?”
“’Cause maybe there’s a way for us to be together. There has to be,” he said.
“We can be together but not in the world. Tell me, other than Myrna, does anyone else even know that you’re…?”
“Amy, since the first time I blew a guy after gym class in high school.”
“And what does she think?”
“That I’m a brat, just like you do. But she loves me anyway.”
“And we haven’t even mentioned your son.”
“Who seems to like you.”
“The way you are with Benedick…it’s definitely a point in your favor.”
Declan laughed. “If you told me a few weeks ago I’d even consider upending my life, I would have had you committed.”
“You probably consider that a compliment,” Sora teased.
Declan pulled Sora’s head to his chest. “I’m asking the world of you, I know. But…Look, I’m going to be in this show for at least a year. Let’s spend that time getting working on this.”
“We’ll only get ourselves in deeper,” Sora said.
“If you’re trying to scare me with that, it won’t work,” Declan smiled.
“You talk a good game,” Sora said, allowing Declan to enfold him “I just don’t…” Declan quieted him with a kiss. They fell onto the sofa and held each other until they drifted off.
In the middle of the night, Declan got up and quietly climbed the steps to check in on Benedick who was sleeping soundly. Reassured, he went back downstairs, shut off all the lights and lay back down next to Sora. The sensation of Declan’s body, woke him up. He turned to face Declan and they kissed, which evolved into lovemaking, this time with less passion but greater tenderness and affection.
As he fell back to sleep, Declan considered the coming battles: How to convince Sora. How to convince himself. How to live with the decision if he succeeded. The reverberations on his professional life, his private life. His son.
Sora turned and now they were face to face. Even asleep, Sora projected a sense of strength and harmony that Declan envied. Whatever happened, Sora would emerge intact. He could not be sure the same applied to him.
___________
Richard Natale is a Los Angeles-based writer whose stories have appeared in such journals as Gertrude Press, the MCB Quarterly, Chelsea Station, Hashtag Queer, Wilde Oats and the anthologies, Men in Love, Image/Out, and Off The Rocks. His published novels include Cafe Eisenhower, Love on the Jersey Shore, Junior Willis, the fantasy adventure The Golden City of Doubloon and the short-story collection Island Fever. Natale also wrote and directed the feature film, Green Plaid Shirt, which played at twenty-five film festivals around the world and is a best-selling title for Wolfe Video.