Batter Off Dead by Tamar Myers Page A

juice.

11
    “I’m all ears, George.”
    He reached out and patted my arm. “I hope you’re not offended, Magdalena, but I don’t find you attractive.”
    “Ditto, dear.”
    “No, really. I’m told that you have all the attributes one would normally desire in a member of the opposite sex, but they do nothing to excite me.”
    “And no offense to you, George, but your parts don’t light a fire in my loins either.”
    He seemed a bit taken aback by me giving him tit for tat. “I don’t think you understand. It’s not just you I’m not attracted to; it’s all of the fairer sex.”
    “In other words, you’re gay.”
    “Oh, how I hate that word!”
    “I’m sorry, George. Do you prefer homosexual ?” We were still whispering, by the way, albeit a bit loudly.
    George reared like a horse that had spotted a snake lying across the trail. “ What? No! No labels, please. Call me a confirmed bachelor, if you must—or a gentleman’s gentleman. Really, Magdalena, you don’t seem a bit surprised by my revelation.”
    “Hmm.”
    “She could have ruined my career, you know. Who would want to trust their money to a bank managed by a—a—known—well, you know.”
    “George, these days what one does in the privacy of one’s own bedroom—and I’m not saying that it’s right or wrong—is of little interest to the public.”
    “Maybe in cities like Pittsburgh or Philadelphia, but here in Bedford, it most certainly does matter. This is still a Christian town, Magdalena, and here folks vote by what their Bibles say. You, better than most, should know that.”
    “Yes, but trust me, George, the good folks of Bedford really don’t care about your personal life all that much.”
    “You’re being cavalier,” he shouted. “I’m trusting you with the biggest secret of my life, and you won’t even take it seriously.”
    I bit my tongue whilst I prayed for guidance. Although my prayers for patience usually go unanswered, sometimes, if I am able to quiet my inner dialogue, I feel that I am able to discern that “still small voice” that the prophet Elijah mentioned in the Book of Kings. To explain to George that virtually everyone in Hernia and Bedford had already guessed that he was gay would undoubtedly hurt his feelings, as well as acutely embarrass him. On the other hand, the knowledge that his personal life was not germane to his career as a banker could lift a huge burden from his shoulders and allow him to live life more abundantly.
    “I do take you seriously,” I finally said. “As it so happens, I have a friend who is a banker in a town just this size, and that friend is also gay, but it doesn’t appear to have hurt his career at all.”
    “Yeah, but I bet that town isn’t in Pennsylvania.”
    “Oh, but it is.”
    “Which town? Where?”
    “I’m not at liberty to say—not until my friend comes out of the closet.”
    “Aha, so nobody knows that your friend is gay!”
    “Actually, I’m pretty sure that everyone does.”
    “ How do they know?” he demanded.
    “I’m not really sure; it’s no one thing in particular. Maybe because he never married and doesn’t date. But it doesn’t matter. The point is that they know, and that they haven’t boycotted his bank on account of it. Also—and I hope I’m corrected if I’m wrong—the folks at church have always treated him warmly as well.”
    “Yes, they have—I mean, they know as well?”
    “Perhaps not everyone at his church; I don’t think it was ever the subject of discussion. But still, I’m sure that there have been some folks who just sort of picked up on it.”
    “Picked up on what ? I act just like the other men—darn, Magdalena, you were really talking about me, weren’t you?”
    In a move quite uncharacteristic of myself, I grabbed his hands, which were as light and cold as yesterday’s biscuits. I couldn’t, however, look him in the eyes, which were as dark and moist as the raisins in hot-cross