“I can’t believe it,” Jonas said. “All the times you’ve been in here and we never talked about Harvey Milk. I toast him every time I take a drink.”
“I’ve never seen you drink,” Maggie said.
“Yeah, well I usually don’t during business hours.”
“So, there you go,” she said. “Now tell me, who’s Harvey Milk?”
“He got elected to the San Francisco Board of Supervisors,” Jonas said.
“He was a cut above the rest of us.” Gordon stared up at the photo. Harvey Milk smiled back. He was a handsome man, dark hair, smile so wide his eyes were squinting. He was sitting, one leg over the other, by the side of a brick building, wearing Levi’s, work boots and a plaid shirt, kind of like the one Jonas was wearing. His arms were folded over his knee, newspaper dangling from his hands. He looked like he needed mothering. He looked fragile.
He was in another photo with a young black woman. Milk’s white skin contrasting sharply with her dark face. Her Afro wild, her smile serene. Maybe Maggie didn’t know who Harvey Milk was, but she knew all about Gaylen Geer. An in your face black feminist who raged against everything. Maggie was surprised she hadn’t noticed the photo before, but then the walls were covered with black and white shots of the ’60s and the ’70s.
Milk was in a third photo, sitting on the top of a car, legs dangling through the sun roof, right hand raised in a fist, in his left he was holding up a sign. “I’m from Woodmere, N.Y.” it said. He was wearing a white T-shirt, a garland of flowers hung from his neck. His mouth was open wide, he was yelling something. A crowd of people were marching behind the car. He looked like he was about to be swept up by a hurricane.
“Gay pride parade, he wanted folks to know gays come from everywhere. My sign said I came from Stockholm.” Jonas took another pull from his beer.
“Mine said I was from Thief River Falls, Minnesota,” Gordon said.
“Was he the first gay elected to the board of supervisors?” Maggie said.
“He was the first openly gay man elected to anything on the planet,” Jonas said. “He brought us into the human race.”
“You should know that,” Gordon said.
“When was he killed?”
“Nineteen seventy-eight.”
“I was a baby.”
“You know about those other guys.” Gordon pointed to the photos of John, Bobby and Martin. “You weren’t even born when they were killed.”
“I know about George Washington and Abe Lincoln, too. Come on, guys, it’s not the same.”
“It is,” Jonas said.
“If it isn’t, it should be,” Gordon said.
Maggie wanted to protest further, but she saw they were serious, so she bit back her words.
“Harvey Milk faced death every day. Back then gays weren’t just discriminated against, they were persecuted. We were beaten, defiled and jailed. Sure, Martin Luther King was hated by a lot of stupid people, but it wasn’t against the law to be black.”
“Harvey said in his will, ‘If a bullet should enter my brain, let that bullet destroy every closet door,”’ Gordon said. “He knew it was going to happen, but he kept on anyway, stayed in front of the public and the cameras, showing the whole world it was possible to be gay and do your job.”
“He told me he expected it to happen one day,” Jonas said, “but he didn’t dwell on it.”
“He was my friend and I miss him,” Gordon said.
“Me too,” Jonas said.
“So, you two guys go way back?” Somehow Maggie didn’t have a hard time picturing Jonas and Gordon together.
“We do,” Jonas said and Maggie wondered if they’d been a couple in the past or would be in the future. She knew Jonas lived alone, though she didn’t know why. She grinned. They might be good for each other.
“What?” Gordon said.
“Nothing. I think I’ll go.”
“Go where?” Gordon’s arms were crossed, eyes scolding now. He was acting like a parent.
“Home, where else?”
“Not alone you’re not.”
“I’m a big girl, Gordon. Besides, you’ve got a game to finish.”
“I’ll drive her,” Jonas said. “I need a break anyway.”
“No you won’t,” Maggie said, adamant. “I’ll jog on home. Nothing’s gonna happen.”
“They could still be out there,” Gordon said.
“Who?” Maggie said.
“That guy with the ferret face and his big friend,” Gordon said.
“Or Darley and Theo,” Jonas said.
“The first two are long gone,” Maggie said. “And Darley and Theo are under the pier where they’ve probably been every night since I’ve lived in the Shore. They’ve never bothered me before, they’re not going to start now.”
“You’ve had too much to drink to walk home alone. I’ll get my keys,” Jonas said.
“No,” Maggie said. “I’ve had a little to drink, but I’m gonna run. I wanna work up a sweat and clear my head before I see Nick.”
“Not gonna go down by the beach?” Gordon said.
“No. I’ll stay on the sidewalk all the way home. Satisfied?” Maggie pushed her unfinished drink toward Jonas. Then, “Your boys are calling you again.”
Gordon turned toward the back booth.
A man at the end of the bar raised his hand for another drink.
“Okay, you guys, I’m outta here.” Maggie went to the door and started running as soon as her feet hit the sidewalk.
A couple minutes later, she slowed to a jog as she neared home. In front of her duplex, she did a few quick stretching exercises, then keyed the door and jogged up the steps to her second floor apartment. She was eager to tell Nick about her night, but she’d come home to an empty house.
Inside, she was instantly hot, but Nick was gone. Though he’d mostly grown out of the asthma that had plagued him as a child, sometimes the sea air would bring on an attack and he’d grab his inhaler on his way to the thermostat. The contractions in his lungs could go on for three or four days and during that time he kept the apartment dry and as hot as the Mojave desert at high noon.
She wondered why he was out. It was unlike him. If he was going through one of his bad periods, he should be home in his hot as Hades bedroom, under the electric blanket, heat cranked up to the max. But he wasn’t home. It must be a heck of a story if he’d rushed out without turning off the lights.
Maggie opened the door to the balcony, stepped outside to free herself from the heat. From her angle of view, she saw both the pier and the Olympic pool. Cool shivers rippled up her spine as she thought about being alone in the dark with Darley and Theo as she huddled in fear, hiding from that slow witted Virgil and Ferret Face with his gun. Why were they after her? She’d done nothing to anybody to warrant such behavior. Could Darley and Theo be right? Could they have been after her because of something Nick had done?
And she thought about what Jonas had said about the two men who lived under the pier. He’d said she was lucky to get away from them, that she should fear them, but he was wrong. They were gentle and kind. Down on their luck, sure, but they’d certainly been no threat to her. On the contrary, they’d saved her from a fate she didn’t even want to contemplate.
She shivered. She saw that pier every day, had fished on it with her parents, had taken photos of it, had eaten at the restaurant on the end of it, but she’d never suspected someone lived under it.
She looked out over the ocean. That sailboat was still out there. She sighed. So much had happened to her in the last hour, it was as if her life had been on fast forward, but to the people on that boat, nothing had happened at all. They were lazily moving through the water, powered by a slight breeze. She sighed again. She used to sail with her dad. She missed him.
And her mother. Now more than ever she needed her wise counsel. But they were gone. There was nobody
