The Past Is a Grotesque Animal

[Josh Bernstein]

September 18th, 1991

---

Josh sat in the lobby, a cup of coffee warming his hands. Few of the other attorneys had yet showed up, though they would be along soon enough; he was still in the habit of arriving before everyone else. Still, that allowed him time to begin the coffee maker, and to put some bagels in the communal toaster in the break room.

And it gave him time to gather his thoughts before he had to begin work. The excitement of helping people hadn't yet worn off, but the reality of working in an office wasn't exactly the same as the homework and recitations of the classroom.

The front doors swung open, allowing in a cool fall breeze and jolting the newly minted attorney out of his musings.

"Ah, good morning!" He greeted the man who stomped through the doorway. Josh didn't recognize him; perhaps someone else's client. "May I help you?"

The man eyed Josh keenly. "I need an attorney," He declared.

Josh beamed. "Then you've come to the right place. What do you need help with?"

"Every office I've gone to has been closed today. It's like only Jews are attorneys."

Josh opened his mouth to object, but the potential client continued without pausing.

"I need someone who can work pro bono. I can't afford all those outrageous legal fees, absolutely atrocious the way you lot bleed the innocent dry."

"Oh. Ahh..."

Offering pro bono legal counsel was a requirement for working in the legal profession, but this was not how one went about obtaining it. "You'll need to apply for pro bono aid, we have a maximum income that -- "

"Preposterous! I know you're supposed to offer pro bono services." The man frowned intimidatingly at Josh. "Where's the actual lawyers around here?"

"I am an actual attorney."

"An actual lawyer who isn't an intern."

Josh narrowed his eyes, then placed his mug of coffee on the magazine covered table before him. "If you want to apply, then I can help you with that. But I can't know if you qualify if you won't do that."

The client drew himself and stared Josh in the eye. "And I'm saying I won't. I want what I deserve, and that's legal aid without parasites crawling all over me."

Josh could feel his patience slipping. He was happy to provide pro bono aid, was glad that it was a requirement even, but he was getting tired of the entitlement oozing from the person in front of him. "Then go find someone who doesn't have requirements! It isn't here." He snapped.

The man backed away, hissing in displeasure but sensing a losing proposition. "Oh, your boss will hear about this. I'll be sure you lose this internship," He snarled, slamming the door behind him.

But if Josh's employer did ever hear about it, he never said.

[Josh Bernstein]

April 12th 1982

---

This should have been a happy day.

He was on track to acquire a baccalaureate. He had a wonderful (if sometimes clingy) boyfriend.

Today was his birthday.

He should have been preparing for a party, getting ready to eat cake and drink beer until the sun went down.

Instead he had a funeral to attend.

Of course, he knew that nobody would have blamed him for not going. He could have skipped and celebrated his birthday instead. But his party wouldn't be right without Mike there, and how could Mike be there when he was being buried in the ground?

Josh secretly wondered if any of Mike's family would show up. He knew how they hadn't visited, in the end. But they were the ones doing the funeral, and not Harvey. They wouldn't even allow Harvey to be there.

Tomorrow Harvey was having a memorial, and Josh knew that he and Sean would attend that, too. Because how could they allow their friend to suffer the loss of his lover alone? Maybe Harvey would want to know about the funeral. But maybe he wouldn't want them to say anything, because he wouldn't want to be reminded that they went and he couldn't.

So instead of celebrating, Josh would spend his twenty-second birthday in mourning, and pretending that his boyfriend was only a friend, because if Mike's family knew they wouldn't allow either of them to the funeral, either.

Instead of looking forward to laughter and cake he looked toward grief, and the discomfort of spending time among severe homophobia.

Instead of dressing in comfortable party clothes he was putting on a black suit, and taking the subway with Sean not to a club or a restaurant but to a funeral parlor.

He wished he could take Sean's hand and find comfort in the warmth of his boyfriend's fingers pressed against his, but to do that would be to invite scrutiny and judgement and hysteria.

Instead he leaned against the subway door as it rattled and clattered down the tracks towards mourning, thinking as loudly as he could over his pain and grief. I love you.

[Josh Bernstein]

September 1979

---

"The classroom's locked."

An amicable voice called from the other side of the hallway, and Josh paused with one hand stretched out toward the doorknob.

"Oh." He dropped his hand without trying the door, taking the word of the speaker, who was sitting with his back against the wall. A textbook was balancing, open, on his knees.

"I'm Mike," The other boy offered, waving Josh over. The college sophomore didn't need to be asked twice; he hurried over, dropping his backpack to the ground with a relieved sigh.

"I'm Josh," He answered, shoving his belongings closer to the wall so that no passersby would trip over them. "You're waiting for Mr. Montlick's Philosophy 101 class, too?"

"Yeah." Mike nodded, closing his book and carefully placing it back in his backpack. "Hey, uhhh." He glanced up and down the hall before leaning forward, cupping his mouth with one hand and asking, "I think I saw you at The Vault before."

Josh could feel his face coloring at the memory of that club. He'd been there twice, and neither time had been precisely good experiences. But the question also meant that this Mike knew and....

And if he had been there, and knew what that meant, then he was, too. And the hesitation and whispering meant he, too, understood and was anxious as to how Josh would react to the question and implications.

He nodded. "Yeah, I've been a couple of times."

Mike's face melted into relief. "My friend and I like to go there. Maybe we could all go together, sometime."

Josh gnawed his lip as he thought about that. "You and your friend could always come to my apartment. My roommate is my best friend, so it'll be okay."

Mike positively beamed at this invitation. "Yeah? That would be nice. It's nice to find other people who understand."

Josh nodded in agreement, heart pounding. Greg was, and Greg and Daphne knew. But it was still novel to meet someone else like him, someone he could share with, if only in private.

"It's nice."

---

Sean had agreed to having people over, although that was hardly surprising; the telepath rarely disagreed with Josh's suggestions or requests. The couple had prepared food (or, Sean had prepared food, and Josh had helped by getting out bowls and plastic-ware and napkins) and they had put on a vinyl record and waited for their guests.

The moment a knock sounded at their door Josh had strode forward eagerly, nearly yanking the door off it's hinges in his excitement at having new friends visit.

"Hello!" He stood aside, allowing the other couple into the tiny apartment. Mike ushered his other half inside.

"This is Mike and Harvey," Josh told Sean, and then, "Mike, Harvey, this is Sean."

Mike and Harvey both had brown hair and sideburns, although Mike's eyes were a deep brown and Harvey's were hazel. Both were closer to Josh's height than Sean, leaving the psychic as the towering giant of the group. Josh was almost relieved by this; usually he was with Sean and Greg, who were close in height and made him feel short by their combined statures. Harvey had one ear pierced and looked like he spent time at the gym; Mike had a ponytail, and a knobby frame.

Sean smiled and offered his greetings to the couple. "Can I get you anything? We have drinks."

Josh nodded eagerly and gestured towards the wooden church bench that masqueraded as their couch. "Make yourselves at home."

Mike and Harvey laughed.

"I'll have a beer, if you have one," Mike requested.

"Just water, for me," Harvey followed his partner into the living room, settling onto the bench.

"Harvey's a bit of a health fiend," Mike stage whispered to the group.

"I think we can provide water," Josh laughed, heading into the kitchen to supply this order.

"So how did you and Harvey meet?" Sean asked as he handed Mike a can of beer.

"Oh, Harvey was playing a game of pickup basketball and I stopped to watch. I guess he could see that I thought he looked good playing."

"Anyone could've told that," Harvey snorted, thanking Josh, who had come back with a glass of water.

"What are you majoring in?" Josh directed this question toward Harvey, expecting something physical.

"Oh, we're both Accounting majors. That's one of the things that kept us together, instead've just a fun hookup." Mike answered for his partner.

Josh was taken aback, but tried not to show that. "Oh! Are you really? But you didn't know each other from classes...."

"Harvey's a year ahead of me."

Oh. Right. Of course people could date outside their year; he of all people should have known that.

"What about you and Sean...?" Harvey asked.

"Well, my first week of campus I met one of his friends, who invited me to the activist group they're part of and..."

[Josh Bernstein]

January 1992

---

Josh sighed as he settled into a stool at the bar. He had lost a case earlier that day, a case arguing that a landlord had been racially motivated to neglect sending maintenance to a tenant. The defendant hadn't even refrained from using racial slurs in the courthouse, and he had still lost.

He needed a drink.

He could usually count on two bartenders, a chipper and somewhat effete Hispanic man named Oscar, and an older man named Gary. Today he only saw Gary.

"Hey," He raised a hand in greeting to Gary, straining to see if perhaps Oscar was in the back. "Is Oscar not here today?"

The perpetual smile on Gary's face slipped at Josh's question. "No, no. He's...been sick."

A knot of worry formed in Josh's stomach. Sick. It was no secret that Oscar was gay, and Gary's expression and tone suggested something serious.

"Sick? I hope he feels better..." He murmured, unsure if he should even ask. But he didn't have to, because Gary answered his unspoken question anyway.

"He's in the hospital." He leaned forward and whispered, "He has that AIDS. But don't worry, you can't catch it from drinking here."

"I know." Josh assured Gary. "Do you know which hospital he's at? Or if he's even accepting visitors?"

Gary nodded. "All his family are back in Colombia, he'd probably like visitors. Here, I'll write down the info for you...."

[Josh Bernstein]

October 1975

---

Josh sprawled across the floor of Donald's bedroom, idly flipping through a copy of The Rolling Stones but not really reading it. Donald had put on a Neil Young album, loud enough to obscure their conversation to any outside listeners. Marijuana smoke billowed across the room, curling over their heads.


"When're you gonna ask her out?" Donald asked, fingering his blunt idly.

Josh squinted at his friend. "What?" He yelled over the record.

"I asked, when are you going to ask her out?" Donald raised his voice in answer.

"Ask who out?" Josh was confused. Was he showing interest in someone? Maybe he was! That would be good, maybe that meant he wasn't too gay, and if he knew who he was acting like he wanted to date, he would be able to focus on her and actually consciously like her, too.

"Bekah!" Donald replied. "Come on, she's always your partner in group projects. She's pretty, she's cool, if you don't ask her out someone else will."

Josh considered this information. Bekah was a Nice Jewish Girl, and also very smart. His mother would approve, and he could definitely tolerate her presence. Maybe she would make a good girlfriend after all.

"I'll ask her tomorrow. But if she says no don't laugh at me."

"I would never," Donald swore, crossing his heart solemnly.

"Good." Josh replied, lifting his own blunt to his mouth.

"Yup. Good." Donald agreed, putting his to his lips as well. "Real good."

[Josh Bernstein]

November 2002

---

"Oh, Boopkie, you look so handsome!" Charlie Bernstein crowed, almost forgetting to move out of the door frame so that her middle child could come in out of the cold.

Josh mumbled an embarrassed expression of gratitude as he stamped impatiently on the steps of the apartment. Snow dusted the top of his wool hat, and slipped into the creases of the scarf wrapped about his neck, and he wanted desperately to be inside where there was heat. A wrapped box was tucked under one arm, which his mother quickly relieved him of. "I'll go put this with the other gifts."

"Josh!" Bobby hooked one arm under his wife's elbow, guiding her back towards the living room so that his son could come in. "You have glasses."

Josh suppressed a sigh. "It turns out I'm getting old." He muttered, unable to keep the resentment out of his voice.

"Oh, boopkie, you're only forty-two." His mother assured him. "I have rugelach in the oven. Michelle's helping me in the kitchen while Talia looks after the kids. Except Tomer, he went up to your old room and is looking through books, bless him. He reminds me so much of Matty. It's hard to believe he's Talia's instead."

Josh shook the snow out of his scarf as he unwound it, then tossed it over the coat rack before stripping off his winter coat. "I can smell it!" He laughed as he hung up his coat and hat. "Let me go say hello to Matt and Talia before I raid the kitchen, though."

"Llo, Tallie!" He greeted his younger sister as he breezed into the living room. Noah (aged nine), Jeremiah (aged seven), and Abby (aged six) were playing a video game console that was attached to the television. Rivka (aged three) was watching them with wide-eyed interest, occasionally pawing at her mother and begging to play, too.

"But I don't have another controller!" Talia sighed, then pointed as her brother sauntered in. "Oh, look, it's Uncle Josh! Why don't you go play with him?"

Rivka glanced over, her expression shifting from interest to suspicion as she spotted the new frames on his face. "No!" She squealed, burying her face in her mother's lap. "I don't wanna!"

Talia shrugged apologetically. "I didn't know you got glasses!" She patted her youngest daughter's head as she smiled over at Josh.

"I'm growing old. Next thing you know I'll have grey hair."

"Oh, don't be silly. Matt's had glasses for ages." His baby sister chided. "He and David are hovering in the kitchen, waiting for the rugalech to be finished."

"Maybe I'll join them. Might grab a beer while I'm at it, would you like me to get you or the children anything?"

Talia shook her head. "I'm fine."

He nodded to show he'd heard, then made his way towards the most interesting part of the house -- the one with the baked goods.

"Matt! David! Michelle!"

Three faces turned to look at him, all chiming their greetings at once. "Josh! Hello! Glad you could make it!"

"Hmmm. You look different!" David observed teasingly. "I can't seem to place it...."

"I can. Welcome to the glasses club." Matt clapped his younger brother on the shoulder. "You finally got tired of not being able to read, did you?"

Josh sighed and pushed his spectacles further up his nose. "That was the motivation, yes." He admitted grudgingly. "I get a headache if I wear them for too long, though. But I was getting a beer. Anyone else...?" He asked, then trailed off as he noticed that David and Matt both already held beverages in their hands.

"Don't worry about us," Matt nudged Josh towards the fridge. Once he had a beer in hand the younger Bernstein sniffed the air while he popped open his bottle.

"The rugalech smells amazing. Are we waiting for it to come out?"

"It only has a minute left," Michelle informed him, glancing towards the timer. "Oh! No, forty five seconds."

When the timer dinged she pulled on a pair of floral oven mitts, then carefully opened the oven door. "Careful, I don't want anyone to get burned." She warned as she pulled the tray out. The heat from the oven caused Josh's glasses to fog up, and he rubbed a sleeve over them in annoyance.

"Shoo! Matt, don't touch those!" Michelle chided as her husband reached out a hand greedily. "They need to cool off! And you know the birthday boy gets first pick."

"Oh, all right" Matt sighed, nudging his brother-in-law meaningfully. "Go get the birthday boy so we can get on with this."

David sipped from his beer as he considered this request. At last he said, "Well, I think we're all here, so I may as well. If he'll be dragged away from the books."

"I just hope he doesn't have anything to say about my glasses," Josh muttered. He hoped that Tomer wouldn't react the same way that Rivka had; although he wasn't entirely sure how to interact with four=year-olds he still loved his nieces and nephews.

"Oh, Joshie." His mother clucked, entering the kitchen, "The glasses look very distinguished."

Josh frowned in disagreement. Of course his mother would say that.

"If they help you read..." Matt offered, and Josh sighed.

"I suppose I don't want to be blind."

[Josh Bernstein]

December 2nd, 2002

---

Josh pushed one hand under his glasses, rubbing his eyes as he made his way toward the break room for a coffee. Jackson was already there, peering into a box of donuts. He looked up when Josh entered, then did a double take.

"I didn't know you had glasses!" He gaped, one hand hovering over a chocolate frosted donut.

"I got them over the holiday," Josh grumbled, making his way straight for the coffee maker. "Is there any coffee yet?"

"Not yet. What does Sean think of your glasses?"

Josh leaned down to pull the coffee grounds from the cabinets. "He hasn't seen them yet."

"Oh." Jackson took a bite of his donut. "Make enough coffee for me, too?"

---

Josh was emailing a client when Nick wandered over. "Hey, I needed an opinion on--Oh, wow, when'd you get glasses?"

"Over the Thanksgiving break," Josh sighed, swiveling in his chair to face the other man. "What do you need an opinion on?"

"Did Sean help you pick them out?"

"Pard--no! I haven't seen him. What did you need me for?"

"Sorry, I just wanted to get a second opinion on whether I should try to block my client's sex work from coming up in this case."

"Refresh me on your case, again...."

---

Karen lifted both eyebrows as Josh walked past her desk. "Nice glasses. Does Sean like them?"

Blake, who was standing talking with her, looked over. "You do have glasses. I'm sure Sean really appreciates them, doesn't he?"

"I haven't seen Sean since I got them!" Josh exclaimed, tossing his hands into the air in exasperation. "Why does everyone keep asking about Sean's opinion on them?"

Blake looked puzzled. "He didn't suggest that you get them?"

"No! Sanjay harassed me about not being able to read menus without holding them away from my face and," He grumped, "I suppose there was some truth to that."

"Oh. I forgot you were seeing him." Karen commented. "I don't think you've mentioned him in awhile."

"We'll be seeing him at the holiday party though right?" Blake asked, and Josh sighed.

"Yes, yes, of course."

No Sean this time; although Sanjay was well aware that they were Casual (and had, in fact, been the one to propose that) it would still be awkward.

"Now I really need to get back to work...."

[Josh Bernstein]

July 1990

---

Josh paced his apartment, puffing anxiously at a cigarette. Outside the City went about its uncaring business, car horns blaring angrily and the noise of construction vibrating through the walls.

"I'm going to fail." Josh groaned, flinging himself onto his sofa. He lifted the hand holding the cigarette into the air, keeping it out of the way as he buried his face into the cushions. "Why'd I think law school was a good idea?"

He should have been prepared; so many attorneys only had a baccalaureate, while he had gone the extra time to earn a JSD. But he didn't feel prepared. Graduation in May had, rather than offering relief, only added to his stress.

Because now he had to pass the Bar Exam.

He now had to prove knowledge obtained over the past nearly ten years of his life. Ten years worth of knowledge! On one test! He'd been studying furiously since graduation, staying up into the small hours of the night (sometimes accompanied by Simon) and largely subsisting on coffee and cigarettes.

He and Simon hadn't been able to do anything fun since May; the looming specter of the Bar Exam devoured any semblance of free time that the pair might have. Instead it was study , stress, and attempt some few hours of sleep so that they could do it all over again. Classes designed for Bar candidates replaced his graduate school classes. Homework for his Bar exam class had replaced homework for school. He felt that he would never be done with homework and tests and study. He'd been good at school, but this test was Important. His entire future hinged on passing.

He spent hours each morning in a class with other equally stressed law graduates, barely containing their stress and trying not to snarl at one another. A handful of his classmates expressed confidence in their abilities, which resulted in basilisk stares from everyone mired in stress and doubt.

Josh was glad that he'd had the foresight to keep all of his law textbooks, but even then he didn't feel as if he knew enough, and stacks of books borrowed from the library towered beside heavy books purchased and worn from school. Beside the books were placed index cards with legal phrases and binders full of carefully taken notes regarding influential cases and wrinkled study sheets from previous tests.

"I'm going to fail. What'll I do if I fail?"

But he'd never had a backup plan. And who would he ask? Sean? Sean had long since graduated and begun his own practice. And anyway, would he really know what Josh could do if he failed at the one thing he had strove for?

His parents? They had an almost absurd level of confidence in him, as evidenced by the fact that they didn't understand why he had to hole up in his apartment and study from graduation until the Exam.

You should get out more... They said. Go see some friends. Get out of that stuffy apartment.

This was the opposite of what he needed to do! He wouldn't pass if he didn't study diligently. As much as he missed his social life, it simply wasn't an option until the Exam was over.

The recent law graduate sat up and shoved the cigarette between his lips once more, inhaling the nicotine desperately. He couldn't fail; no matter how much the stress threatened to overwhelm him.

He had to pass. He had to remember enough to pass.

He leaned over to the side table, pulling off a stack of Index cards. "Reaffirmation Agreement," He read and then closed his eyes as he recited, "An agreement by a debtor to continue paying..."

[Josh Bernstein]

January 20th, 1981

---

Josh stood in the doorway of the apartment he and Sean shared, politely waving goodbye until the Nevilles had turned the corner toward the stairwell and disappeared. Once they were out of sight he thrust the door shut, slumping over against the wall.

"That was intense." He moaned, wiping a hand across his brow. "I think your dad knows."

Maybe that was his anxiety talking. Dr. Neville loomed over the law student, taller even than his son. And he had similar mannerisms, only without the familiarity of lovers, which made his impassivity much more unnerving.

"And I don't think Kathleen likes me," He added. They were the same age, and he wished that they could be friends, but he felt disapproval shoot from her eyes like lasers. He wondered if she was capable of disapproving more than she already did; if she ever found out that he was her older brother's boyfriend, would her disapproval burn hotter?

"My parents like you," Sean pointed out, unable to deny that Kathleen wasn't fond of Josh."But tonight was...difficult."

Difficult because it was the night Reagan was inaugurated. All the Nevilles but Sean were pleased about it, and they hadn't been shy with expressing this. Josh, usually opinionated and eager to debate people who were wrong always tried not to start anything with Sean's family. But it was trying for him, truly.

Sean wrapped both arms around his boyfriend. "Let's have a drink. Perhaps kahlua and hot cocoa would be a nice way to unwind...?"

"And marshmallows?" Josh inquired, twisting his head around to capture Sean's lips with his.

Sean smiled as he returned the kiss. "And marshmallows."

[Josh Bernstein]

October 1978

---

Josh spotted her from down the hall and changed course, making a beeline for the brunette young woman.

"Daphne! Daphneeeeee!!!"

He waved frantically to get her attention. She was, in a word, cool. Almost as cool as Sean, if that were possible. She was one of Sean's friends, which meant that she was old and wise and social justice minded and really smart.

She was also a useful source of information for his really important questions, such as, "I thought Sean would be here."

He jerked his chin back towards the direction he had come from, indicating the library. He could often find the college senior buried in books there, which was useful because it meant he could pretend to browse books while Sean studied and that was almost like spending time together.

Daphne shook her head in amusement. "Sean's in class right now. I thought you had his schedule memorized!"

Josh gaped indignantly at her. "I...why would...of course I don't!" He sputtered while mentally making a note of the time and day so that he wouldn't make this mistake again. "Do you know when he gets out?"

"He's supposed to meet me and Greg on the Quad in half an hour to plan for the march next weekend." She raised a knowing eyebrow at the younger student. "Do you want to joi---"

"YES!" Josh answered before she even had a chance to finish asking. "If you don't mind..."

"Course not. You don't have class?"

Josh shook his head, too excited about the prospect of Sean to care about something like class. "No, no, no. So how many people d'you think will be at the march...?"

[Josh Bernstein]

August 1978

---

Josh and his father stood at the entrance to the dorm he would live in for the remainder of the school year. There were two beds, one on either side of the room, two dressers, two desks and not a whole lot else. There was another boy already there, arranging posters on the wall of the far side of the room.

"Hey!" Josh greeted cheerfully, hauling his luggage through the door. "Which bed is yours?"

The other boy gestured towards the one closest to him. "This'n."

That was all Josh needed to know. He heaved his suitcase toward the unclaimed bed. Behind him Bobby followed with more of his son's belongings, setting them down on the ground.

"I'll go get the rest of your stuff from downstairs." Bobby patted the bright-eyed freshman encouragingly on the shoulder before ducking out of the tiny dorm room and leaving the two boys alone to bond.

"I'm Josh! You must be Aaron."

The other boy grunted in acknowledgment. "That's me."

"We're going to be roommates! That's so cool!" Josh enthused as he dug through his luggage for his sheets. Once he'd found them he set about making his bed. "Do you know what you wanna major in?"

Aaron shrugged. "Can you major in sorority girls?"

Josh frowned. "Probably not...." He answered.

"There's a party tonight. Supposed to be a lot of sorority girls there," Aaron offered.

Josh shook his head in dismay at having to deny this overture of friendship. "My parents want to have dinner before they go."

Aaron didn't reply; instead he turned his attention to the magazine spread of a scantily-clad woman he was tacking to the wall.

Josh heaved a sigh as he continued to unpack. Maybe they would find something to bond over that wasn't girls....

[Josh Bernstein]

November 1976

---

"Can you believe it?" Josh twisted the dial on his locker, waiting for the telltale click before tugging the door open.

Donald bounced on the balls of his feet as he waited for his friend. "Of course! Everyone was sick of the Repubs." He scoffed, clutching his textbooks to his chest.

"The next four years are going to be the best," Josh announced as he grabbed his Algebra book. "Can you imagine what Carter'll accomplish? Income parity, gender equality, the end of racial discrimination?"

Bekah leaned against the neighboring locker, shaking her head in mild amusement. "He's still got the rest of the government to work with." She cautioned.

Josh pouted at his girlfriend. "If we don't have expectations they won't come true."

"I didn't say he wouldn't accomplish anything," She pointed out. "But it won't be nearly that fast. He'll need at least another term. But I'm still excited!" She added defensively at the look the two boys shot her.

"Yeah." Josh agreed, slamming his locker shut enthusiastically now that he'd acquired all of his materials for the next class. "I'm so happy I could...I could..." He trailed off, then leaned over to brush his lips awkwardly against Bekah, who backed away with a grimace.

"Josh!" She admonished in a harsh whisper. "We'll get detention."

Donald snickered, and grabbed his friend by the arm. "Come on, we'll be late for class."

[Josh Bernstein]

December 27th 1985

---

Josh reached one hand for the phone, hesitated, then dropped his hand back into his lap. The buzz of the television anchor discussing the recent news elicited a shiver.

An arrest had been made yesterday. Mentally ill, so they said. One of the children was still in the hospital, but if he survived he would be the only one of his family left, his parents and his younger brother already dead.

Early murmurs, confessions, interviews, whispered rumors that suggested it was because Goldmark and his family were communists and Jews. Whether or not that was true, Charles Goldmark had been a prominent Civil Rights attorney.

Known and hated for his progressive politics and his skill in pursuing justice in the court rooms, and he paid the price. His wife and their ten-year-old paid the price. His twelve-year-old was in critical condition, in the hospital with no immediate family. Because his father was a Civil Rights attorney who was good at his job.

Because someone thought he was Jewish.

Josh shivered as he picked up the receiver, cradling it with an expression of yearning.

Christmas Eve was not a day of significance for him. He didn't celebrate. But to be attacked and murdered on Christmas Eve even still felt an insult. Murder was always wrong, of course, but the addition of a holiday, when the family would have been preparing to celebrate together (they weren't Jewish, that was what their extended mourning family said) only added to the horror of the crime.

He began to dial Sean's number with fumbling, uncertain fingers as knowledge of the crime choked him.

It was only two days past Christmas. Sean would be with his family, celebrating the holiday with them.

They'd celebrated more holidays together than apart since knowing each other. They were still friends, that was what he had said and Sean had agreed but would he really want to hear from his ex-boyfriend so close to Christmas?

Would he really want to give reassurance, when Josh had abandoned him? It was still probably for the best, of course.

It was for the best, because he was Jewish.

It was for the best because he was going to be a Civil Rights lawyer.

It was for the best, because he didn't want Sean to be murdered if someone truly hated him for that.

He hung up the phone.

[Josh Bernstein]

June 2005

---

Warmth radiated from the body next to him. Josh mumbled wordlessly as he turned, burrowing his cold nose into the soft fabric of the other man's pajamas. Rays of sunlight spilled in through the blinds, flung across the coverlets in a morning welcome.

Josh's stomach growled, and he yawned in objection before disentangling from the arms wrapped about his waist, pushing himself out of bed, bare feet touching the cold hardwood floor, his toes barely brushing against the familiar fuzziness of the rug splayed on his side of the bed.

As the light and his hunger brought him to wakefulness the events of last night crashed back through his mind.

Last night shouldn't have happened. He had come up to Vermont to celebrate Sean's birthday, not to ruin it. What had he been thinking? The alcohol, the company, the stinging loneliness of single life had all jumbled together to make falling into Sean's arms seem like a good idea but...

guilt stabbed through his spine. What would Sean think, when he awoke and remembered? Remembered that, once again, his supposed best friend had taken advantage of him? And on his birthday, no less?

Josh wished that he could disappear, but that wouldn't undo his terrible behavior. At least Sean was asleep; he wouldn't have to face up to the other man quite yet.

He tiptoed across the room to his suitcase, pulling on his clothes. Maybe he would fix a pot of coffee before getting properly ready. Maybe he could even make some toast, or find some fruit to cut up. If he could have breakfast ready when his friend came down, maybe that would distract from any attempts at discussing what had occurred, because what good could come of that?

Only Sean revealing his disappointment could come of it, that was what.

And although Josh knew it made him a coward, he didn't want to face that.

Not even on Sean's birthday.

[Josh Bernstein]

October 13th 1979

---

"Come on, Sean, sing with us!" Mike draped one arm over Harvey's shoulders and leaned his upper torso towards the driver's seat, voice wheedling. "Everyone has to sing together!"

Their driver shook his head with a laugh. "Trust me, you don't know what you're asking."

The passenger seat was occupied by Greg, who held a map in one hand and a blunt in the other. "He's right, you shouldn't ask that."

From the very back Daphne, her best girlfriend Agatha, and another friend of theirs named Loretta chorused, "No, don't sing, Sean!" while Josh, who was in the middle beside Mike (and thus immediately behind Sean) said, "I like Sean's singing." in an indignant voice.

"We have three more hours to go!" Daphne objected, kicking the back of Josh's seat. "You wouldn't want us to have a wreck, would you?"

"Sean's singing isn't that bad," Josh retorted, twisting around to glare at the older woman. "And besides, he's the one driving, he won't distract himself."

"He might," Greg put in, "If he focuses too much on trying to not make all our ears bleed."

Harvey heaved his shoulders into a shrug. "I don't have a beautiful voice, and I don't hear anyone objecting to my singing." He pointed out.

Daphne leaned over to pat his shoulder. "You aren't nearly as atrocious at singing as Sean is." She promised.

Josh crossed his arms with an audible huff at this insult to his boyfriend. Loretta draped an arm over the back of his seat, waving a joint in his face. "I know something's better'n singing, anyway." She declared.

The college sophomore accepted the offering, toking gratefully. Soon the other occupants were equally enraptured, and marijuana smoke obscured the windows.

"We're going to get pulled over before we even get there," Harvey coughed, waving smoke away from his face.

"Oh, lighten up. Or light up," Loretta laughed huskily.

Sean spoke up from the front, "If he doesn't want second hand smoke you ought to respect that."

There was grumbling all around as the Radicals complied. After a moment of sullen silence, Josh said, "D'you suppose Harvey Milk will be there?"

"Why wouldn't he be?" Greg asked, dragging his attention away from the map. "He helped organize it."

"I heard Audre Lorde is supposed to be there." Agatha's tone was admiring. "And Ted Weiss."

Josh grew starry-eyed. He felt some kindred spirit with Congressman Weiss due to his background.

"And Allen Ginsburg! You think he'll be up for a fling?" Mike asked longingly.

"Only if I can watch." Harvey chuckled.

"I can't decide if I'm more excited about Flo Kennedy or Kate Millett..." Loretta mused.

Josh squirmed with excitement at all of the high profile progressive voices being listed off. He would be lucky if he got to sleep tonight, though he would certainly try; marches were long, tiring business even for an energetic nineteen year old.

The four hour car trip would probably help him sleep, where the adrenaline rush of a National march on Washington threatened to keep him awake.

"It's so thrilling. Finally, demanding that the country take us seriously and stop discriminating against us."

And maybe, just maybe, they would listen.