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Page 5 Alabama Forum October 1988

Ocean Park
by Gary Spahl

another perfect week-end during the war
and sunny summer of 1985. We were in Ocean
Park, small hamlet on Martha's Vineyard
sweeping cluster of Victorian-era, gingerbread-
style homes, looking out on a grassy common and
beyond to the Atlantic. With a gazebo and geese
and the whitecaps flirting across the water, it was
classically channing and beautiful.

The grass was browning and brittle, tired from
salt, wind and August sun. We sat, drinking beer,
enjoying the space and the day, She was living on
the island, and I was ending what would probably
be my last visit of the summer. In few hours the
ferry would take mc home to the city. It was sad
to be leaving - both the island and my friend.
We first met at work, in restaurant. We were
both finishing college, and seemed to be the only
ones capable of tolerating each other's senior year
bitching. We'd rant endlessly about deadlines,
wisccrack our way through the standard restaurant
mania, then go out for drinks afterward and rant
and wisecrack some more. She served. bussed.
Together we made good moncy. I liked her.
Unlike most workplace friendships, this one continued
after our employment ended. With work no
longer a common topic, our conversation expanded.
She was an artisan and was writer, and we
had long, soul-searching discussions. About the
creative curse of achieving success only by refusing
to be satisfied with your work. About family
and friends. About hopes and fears and ideals.
About whatever else it is that good friends talk
about.

She was intelligent, and kept my brain from
falling asleep at the wheel. She was creative, and
could empathize when sympathy wasn't enough.
She had had a lopsided share of tragedy in life, yet
was always positive and upbeat and encouraging.
realized how important she was to me after she
moved to the island.
I had come out to a few people, and was still quite
new to the game. Positive reactions were reassuring
and relieving: negative ones hurt. Good-byes
are always sad - sudden, permanent good-byes are
heart-wrenching. It was time to tell my island
friend - to strengthen an already solid relationship,
or to cut loose while there was still emotional
time.

I had tried to tell her many times during this visit.
On each attempt, something balked. How do
start? What if she hates me? It's not the right
place. Right time. Right mood. Anxiety was high,
for the risk was great. She was an important per-
son in my life. A loss would be devastating. This
was a big one, and could lead to big hurt.

Sailboats lounged on the horizon. The sun whispered
of lazy island heat. The beer was wet and
warming. and went down easily. We talked.
About our work, our families, our lives. It was not
a trivial conversation we would not be seeing
each other for some time.

I tried to find a good place to start - a key transitional
phrase or a brief lapse. My head spun with
fears and hopes and senarios. Outside, my body
kept talking and listening and gesturing. Inside
my blood ran cold ... hot ... cold. My feet went
numb, then my hands, then my feet again. She
talked, I listened. talked, she listened. Ocean
Park disappeared. The Atlantic disappeared.
Breathing became difficult. Every cell screamed
with anxiety. My heart pounded furiously. Throat
and lungs swelled with unspoken words, waiting
for relcase and acceptance - bracing for hurt and
anger. The beer wasn't cold. It wasn't warm. It
wasn't wet or dry. I chugged like madman,
talked, I listened. She talked, she listened. The
sailboats hung precariously on the edge of everything.

It came from nowhere, from everywhere. We
were talking about relationships whose can't
remember. It just fell into the conversation, unannounced,
unplanned, unexpected.

"...Yeah, like, I've been seeing this guy for a couple
of months now, and sometimes you just gotta
take things as they are.'
From the ocean, watched myself say the words.
From the gazebo, I heard myself say them. What
was I doing? Not like that. Not without a preface,
a warning. Not just thrown into the middle of a
conversation. You blew it!

"Uh-huh," she said,"but she doesn't have to put up
with some of the games he plays."
"Uh-huh,' she had said. She didn't miss a beat,
just kept on talking. "Uh-huh.' Was that it?
"Did you hear what I just said?"
"What?"
"That I've been seeing another guy?"
"Yeah."
"That doesn't shock you? Doesn't bother you?
Arc you surprised?"
"1 know you. I think I know what you are like.
People are people. You know that doesn't bother
me.

The Atlantic ocean reappeared. The beer tumed
wet. My body resumed normal operations.
We talked. About being gay, about being straight.
A close woman friend from childhood recently
told her she was involved with another woman.
Though understanding, she was still upset. I told
lier to be strong, to be patient. To treat her friend
no differently, yet not pretend the issue didn't
ist. I consoled and supported her starting role
reversal, I thought, given the situation. And by
suggesting how to cope and deal with her gay
woman friend, I was exlaining how her gay male
friend expected to be treated.

The sun and the conversation shifted. We talked
about the creative curse. Life on the island. Life in
the city. The weather, the world, and whatever
else it is that good friends talk about.
My ferry was leaving shortly. She had to get
ready for work. She drove me to the dock. We exchanged
a kiss and a hug, and my "Thanks™ covered
more than her hospitality.

The ferry rumbled on toward the mainland.
Watching the island fade into the sea, I savored
wam memorics and banished thoughts of work til
the next day. turned to feel the wind and the
spray on my face. The water sparkled brilliantly in
the late aftemoon sun. Yes, I thought, it has been
wonderful summer.

Excerpted from "Revelatons: A Collection
of Gay Male Coming Out Stories", published
by Alyson Publications, Inc.,
Boston, MA., $7.95 per volume, paper-bound.

REVELATIONS:
A collection of
gay male
coming out
stories

edited by Wayne Curtis

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NIGHTLIFE
Miss Gay
Alabama
Crowned
Reported by Allan F.

Contestants from all over the statc participated in
the 1988 Miss Gay Alabama pageant held at Studio
F in Montgomery on August 26. Raven Madd,
last year's Miss Gay Alabama, passed the crown
to this year's winner, Jessica Southern of Birmingham.
Southern and first runner up Kandi Leigh
of Birmingham will represent the state at the Miss
Gay America Pageant. Second runner up was
Charlene Rose, of Montgomery, and Monica
Cladwell of Montgomery was awarded Miss Congeniality
honors. Miss Southern is a regular member
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She wished to thank all of her Birmingham supporters
and especially Terry Morgan, Fairah
Harbin and Raven Madd.

[Photo Captioned "Miss Gay Alabama, Jessica Southern"]

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