Appearances 48

If the idea of two men loving each other and expressing that love in a sexual manner offends you, then you have clearly come to the wrong place. Feel free to leave.

-48-

Ceremony

The Invitations had simply read “You are invited to attend a Commitment Ceremony to be held between Charles Barnett and Philip d’Autremont at their home in Buckhead, at seven o’clock in the evening. Dinner will follow. Dress is casual.”

Philip and I had discussed this at length, and we had decided to keep the list short. If everyone accepted, in attendance would be John and Joe, Richard and Bruce, Lydia and a date, William and Henry were flying in from Boston, and we had invited my Surgeon, Joel Taft and his partner, Roger Davenport, who was also a surgeon. Counting Gran, there would be thirteen for dinner, but we were not superstitious. In the end, everyone had RSVP’d, but Lydia had advised us that she would be coming alone, her current boyfriend being out of town, so we would be twelve for dinner.

The evening arrived, and the guests turned up in little groups over the course of about twenty minutes. Eventually, we settled everyone in the Library with glasses of wine in their hands. Gran was upstairs in the nursery with the boys. There was a DVD player and a plasma television set on a table in front of the fireplace. We all visited for a while, while we sipped our wine. Philip and I had privately bet each other that Richard would be the first to crack and ask the obvious question. He did not disappoint us.

“Okay, guys,” Richard said. “We thought there was going to be a Minister here with a podium or something. Instead, all we see is a large television set. What’s going on?”

“Are you ready to find out?” I asked him.

“Cut to the chase, boy,” he said.

“All right,” I said. “Philip will you close the door and turn the lights off.” He went to the door and closed it, then turned the overhead lights off, leaving the room lit only by the sconces on either side of the fireplace.

I continued “Philip and I flew to Boston in late January, where we made the following film. The film is self-explanatory.” That was Philip’s cue to turn on the television set and start the DVD player.

Philip joined me, and we sat on a love seat, to watch the film. I put my arm around him, and he snuggled up against me.

It began with a shot of us standing, side by side, myself on crutches.

On the screen, I turned to Philip and said “Philip, you know that I love you more than I have ever loved anything or anyone in my entire life.”

“Charles, he replied, I love you the same way.”

I continued “Neither one of us believes that gay marriage is a particularly good idea, but we can do the next best thing.”

We turned to face each other, and I began. “Philip Etienne d’Autremont, I want to live the rest of my life with you, to love, honor and cherish you all my days. With my body I thee worship, with all my worldly goods I thee endow, and with this ring, I commit my entire being to you for the rest of my days.” I slipped the ring on his finger.

Philip said to me “Charles Marks Barnett, I want to live the rest of my life with you, to love, honor, and cherish you all my days. With my body I thee worship, with all my worldly goods I thee endow, and with this ring, I commit my entire being to you for the rest of my days.” He slipped the ring on my finger.

On the screen, we embraced and kissed for a minute or two.

“Philip, my love,” I said, “If I were female, I would want nothing more than to have your baby.”

“I know, Charles,” he said, “I feel the same way, but two men can’t make a baby together, can they?”

“No they can’t,” I said, “but they can do the next best thing.”

We embraced and kissed, and began undressing each other. It had been a bit awkward with me on crutches and my leg still in a cast. For that reason, I was wearing very loose pants, so that when Philip unbuckled them, they simply dropped to the floor around my ankles. The camera only showed us from the waist up, but it was clear that we were soon standing naked, face to face. We began to kiss and touch each other over our upper bodies.

At this point, Richard spoke up “we’re not going to have to watch you guys doing it, are we?”

“Shut up and close your eyes if you don’t like it,” Bruce said.

On the screen, Philip and I were still caressing each other. Eventually our right hands dropped below waist level while we continued to embrace and caress each other with our left arms, and it was clear from the arm motions that we were masturbating each other. It did not take long, and we simultaneously turned to face the camera, which was still focused on our upper bodies. The sound was muted at that point, but from the expression on our faces, it was clear that we had ejaculated very nearly simultaneously.

In the next scene, we were still standing side by side, but we were dressed, and each of us was holding a capped jar of milky white fluid up to the camera.

On screen, Philip said “this will become you, our children. Somewhere in each of these jars is a little tadpole shaped sperm that will swim like Mark Spitz and reach his target first. We simply want you to know that even though two men clearly cannot make a baby, they can do the next best thing. The sperm that will begin your lives was the end result of an act of love between two people who care for and love each other very deeply.”

Charles looked at me on screen, smiled, and said “If we ever allow the kids to see this, they’re not going to know who Mark Spitz is.”

“They can look it up,” I said.

The screen went blank, and Philip turned off the television and the recorder and went back to turn the lights on. I looked at the others.

Bruce had tears in his eyes. “You guys are just too much,” he said.

Lydia was a little misty eyed herself, but she said “You two didn’t do that all by yourselves, I think.”

Philip laughed. “No we didn’t. We had two stationary cameras on tripods, and two other cameras manned by our medical team, who also collected the sperm.”

“That would be Joe and me,” said John. “It was the sweetest thing I have ever seen.”

Are you really going to allow your kids to see that?” Richard asked.

“That depends on the kids,” I said. “There is also an x-rated version that shows everything. Philip and I are going to save that for when we are ninety or so and can’t get it up any more. The important thing is that we want the kids to understand that we didn’t just take an extended lunch hour one day and drop by a clinic and ‘jerk off into a jar’ so to speak.”

That drew a laugh from the room, and Lydia asked “So, have there been results from all of this?”

“Indeed there have” I said. “Charles Marks Barnett, Jr., and Philip Steven Barnett, Jr., are upstairs in the nursery as we speak. They were both born on the same day, two weeks ago.”

Bruce looked at Philip, and said “Man, you changed your name.”

“It was no big deal,” said Philip. “I have three older brothers who have been breeding like rabbits for years. The Louisiana landscape is heavily populated with male d’Autremont heirs. Charles and I discussed using a hyphenated name, but Barnett hyphen d’Autremont or the reverse simply sounded awkward. Maybe if our names had been Smith and Jones or something short it might have worked..”

Charles led the way upstairs to the new wing, and into the nursery, where we found Gran in a rocking chair, holding a sleeping baby. She looked up, put a finger to her lips, and said to the Nanny, who was sitting nearby. “Come and get this one, Grace, he is fast asleep,” she said. The Nanny got up and took the sleeping baby from Gran’s arms.

“This is Mark,” she said, holding him up for us to see. “Steven is over there in his crib, also asleep.”

Everyone looked both of the kids over, and made appropriate noises. After a time, Gran said, “If you folks would care to join me in the Dining Room, I believe dinner should be ready about now.”

Gran and Lydia went to the elevator, and I led the rest of the group to the dining room. When we were all standing around the table, I introduced Joel and his friend to Gran. Everyone else in the room knew each other. When we were seated at the huge table, the questions began to come fast and furious.

Someone asked “who are the mothers?”

I answered, “they are both nineteen year old women who needed money for a college education. Their family medical histories were thoroughly investigated for inheritable diseases and conditions. They were each given a lump sum settlement of enough money to live on and go to school for four years, and the each signed air-tight agreements that they will not attempt to have contact with the children. They also agreed to neither smoke nor drink during the pregnancies.”

“What if one of the kids wants to meet his biological mother?”Bruce asked.

“If they want to do that, it will have to be with the stipulation that extremely discrete inquiries must be made before contact. The mother might have a life and a family, and said family may not be aware of her earlier pregnancy. In any case it will not be before the boys are at least twenty-one,” I answered. “Furthermore, if after a discrete inquiry, the mother issues an unequivocal no to any contact, it will end there.”

It was Lydia who finally asked the most important question. “Are you going to stop with two children?” she said.

“No we’re not,” I answered. “In fact, there are two more on the way, estimated time of arrival is early August.”

“Why the rush?” Lydia asked.

“Because we want all of them to be out of college by the time we are in our late fifties,” I said.

As was to be expected with such a diverse group, the conversation at dinner was both spirited and intelligent. I noticed that Joel seemed especially interested in the wine, and he finally asked “Charles, what is this extraordinary wine? I recognize it as a Bordeaux, but it is like nothing I have ever tasted.”

“I decanted two bottles of it earlier,” I said. “Let me get them for you.” I went to the sideboard and retrieved the two empty bottles and placed them in front of Joel.

“My God,” Joel exclaimed, “these are Chateaux Lafite-Rothschild 1949. That was a legendary year, arguably one of the two or three best vintages of the Twentieth Century. No wonder it is so good. However did you come by it?”

“My grandfather maintained a wine cellar in the basement of this house, as did his father before him.” I said. “As I understand it, both of them bought a case of each of the first-growth Bordeaux wines every year, among other things. My grandfather died before I entered high school, and my father wasn’t particularly interested in wine, so the cellar just sat there for a long time. I became interested in fine wine when I was in College, and spent a couple of summers inventorying the contents of the cellar. When I started practicing law, I continued the tradition of buying a case of each of the best Bordeaux wines every year, along with a few of my favorite Burgundies. Would you like to see it?”

“I certainly would,” he said. “If you really love fine wine, you ought to let me put you up for membership in the Atlanta Wine & Food Society. We sample a dozen or so different wines at each of our monthly tastings.”

“I’d like that very much,” I said. “Especially if Philip can be included. He is as interested in wine as I am.”

“Consider it done,” Joel replied.

When everyone was finished, Gran asked Lydia to join her for a glass of wine in the sun room, and Philip and I invited the men look at the Wine Cellar before we adjourned to the Library for a glass of Port.

I led the group downstairs to the East end of the Basement, unlocked a door, and turned on the lights in the Wine Cellar. The room was about 15 feet deep and extended under the full width of the house. There were several rows of floor to ceiling wine racks extending to the right and left of a wide central aisle. Joel wandered up and down several of them, marveling at the labels and vintages, and I could tell the he was in as they say, ‘hog heaven.’

Joel finally came back to where the rest of us were standing. He could barely contain himself as he said “Charles, this is a treasure trove.”

“I know, but some of the treasure is in danger of going to waste. I did a great deal of research while I was cataloging the contents of this cellar, and I made a separate list of those wines that were either past or nearly past their peak and needed to be drunk. Robert and I used to come over here every so often and select two or three cases of the most urgent of those, and we used them when we entertained. Philip and I intend to continue that practice, but it will take a while to pare that list down to size.”

“May I make a suggestion?” Joel asked.

“Certainly,” I said.

“I would like to have our tasting committee come over here some evening and look over your list,” he said. “We could put together several tastings and pare your list down a bit. We do this sort of thing regularly, and it serves two purposes. First, it allows the members to sample some really fine wines that are no longer readily available, and second, we reimburse the owners at current prices. That is, if we were to use a bottle of the wine we had for dinner, you would be reimbursed a sufficient amount to purchase a bottle of the current release of that wine. Many of these wines may be, as you say, ‘past peak,’ but they are still much better than 90% of what is being produced today.”

“That sounds good, Joel,” I said. “Set up a meeting and call me. Perhaps you could all come over some evening and talk about it over a bottle of something from this room.”

“Count on it,” he said.

I closed and locked the door to the Wine Cellar and led the group back up to the Library, where we lingered and talked over a couple of glasses of 40 year old Port for a while. Joel and his friend were the first to leave, pleading early rounds at their respective hospitals.

After Joel and his friend had left, I said to the gang. “Guys, we have a favor to ask of the four of you.”

“What?” asked Richard.

“Simply this,” I said. “The boys are going to be Christened at St. Philip’s Cathedral in early December, and we are going to ask Lydia to stand with us as their Godmother. We want the four of you to be there also, in the capacity of Godfather.”

“All four of us?” John asked.

“Why not?” I said.

They had no answer for that, and all four agreed readily to our request. I had been covertly watching John and Joe for much of the evening, because I sensed something amiss about their demeanor and body language, so I decided to plunge right in and find out what was wrong. “Joe,” I said, “unless I am mistaken, you and Joe seem to have a great deal on your minds this evening. Is there anything your friends can do to help.”

Joe said “you know us too well. Yes there is a problem. We have lived in our apartment for nearly three years. The owners, an older couple, have always kept the rent low, but they sold the building recently and moved to Florida. The new owners are increasing the rent on every apartment as the leases come up for renewal, some by as much as fifty percent. Our lease is up at the end of December, and we have got to find a place to live.”

John added “since we both graduated and started working as Registered Nurses full time, we have begun to build a nest egg so we can make a sizable down payment on a house in a couple of years. In fact we have been socking away five or six hundred dollars a month. If we stay at our current address for another year, not only will we not be able to continue doing that, but we will have to dip into the nest egg as well. The problem is we like it there, and although we have been looking at other apartments, nothing we have looked at has even come close to satisfying us - at least none which would allow us to continue to save at our current rate.”

Some unspoken communication evidently passed between Richard and Bruce, because Richard said “why don’t you two come and live with us for a couple of years, while you are saving. We moved into the master bedroom when Charles and Philip sold us the townhouse, and my old room is available. You can help with utilities and such in lieu of rent, if you like. That still leaves us with two guest bedrooms - you know how big the place is. That way you will build your nest egg even faster.”

The relief that John and Joe felt was so palpable, you could see the tension draining away. Joe said “you guys would do that for us?”

“Why not,” said Bruce. “What are friends for if not to help each other in time of need? Why don’t the two of you come over for dinner tomorrow evening and we’ll work out the details.”

The gang left, and William and Henry went to the sun room with us to visit with Lydia and Gran for a while. Lydia seemed genuinely touched when we asked her to stand with us as Godmother for the boys. After she departed, we went back to the sun room and had a nightcap with Gran before we went up to bed.

As had become our custom, we looked in on the boys before we went to our bedroom. We stood beside the cribs, and watched them sleep for a few minutes, before we went to bed ourselves. I think we were both still somewhat in awe of the whole situation.

In planning for the Christening, we had discovered that the Cathedral normally set aside the first Sunday of each month for Christenings, and we were scheduled for the first Sunday in December. I should have known this from my semi-regular attendance there over the years, but it had somehow escaped my notice. We sent announcements to my partners and associates, the staff in general, and to all of Philip’s siblings. His brothers, as expected, did not bother to acknowledge receipt of the invitations, but his sister called him and said that she and her son Steve would come to Atlanta. Her husband, predictably, had declined to accompany her. We invited her to stay with us, and were expecting her to arrive sometime on Saturday before the event.

Thanksgiving week was full of news. On the Monday before Thanksgiving, Philip accepted settlement offers of seven and one-half million dollars from both the Atlanta Police Department and the District Attorney’s Office, and he accepted a smaller settlement offer from the District Attorney, individually, although it was doubtful if he would ever collect anything from Wetherbee.

On the Friday after Thanksgiving, Detective Howard paid us a visit. His investigation was complete, and the Grand Jury was about to be presented evidence seeking indictments of nearly a half-dozen members of a small fundamentalist group, most of whom had some connection, either directly or indirectly with the shooting in the park, the attack on Philip, and the intruder at the house. As far as could be determined, no other individuals or groups were implicated in the multiple attacks, but we decided to maintain our current levels of security, and to continue to exercise a certain amount of caution in public places.

-To be continued-

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Your feedback, as always, is appreciated, be it good, bad, or indifferent.

Etienne.Reynard@Comcast.net

All of my stories can be read on the Rainbow Community Writing Project Website:

http://www.rcwp.homestead.com/

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