The Past Is a Grotesque Animal

[Josh Bernstein]

As soon as Josh closed the door the microwave beeped. He tucked the letter from Sean under one arm as he hurried back into the kitchen and flung open the microwave door. The smell of tomato bisque elicited a growl from his stomach, and he eagerly reached out to grab the bowl only to recoil moments later, shaking scalded fingers.

He scowled at the bowl before retreating into the main room of his loft. He settled down onto his couch, and then stared at the envelope for a long moment, running one hand along the familiar handwriting. How many years had this very handwriting been the same handwriting on his science notes, notes written after class specially for him by someone much better at the subject than he?

Now all his notes were in his own handwriting only.

A knot formed in his stomach at this thought.

Maybe he ought to find a study buddy, if this thought made him so sad. It shouldn't be that difficult.

He carefully slit open the top of the envelope while mentally cataloging his fellow law students. Who might want to study with him? What about Oxana? Maybe Heidi? Joseph? Tsuyoshi?

He reached into the envelope and tugged the letter out.

Maybe Simon, he always said hello when class started.

He smoothed out the letter before reading:


Dear Josh,

I hope law school is treating you well. Residency is going well for me, although hospital schedules remain taxing. I have Sunday off a week from now, and I was hoping to have the gang all together again. Greg already said yes.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely,
Sean


Josh placed the letter on the arm of the couch and sighed heavily as he went to fetch his bisque.

He needed to start over, but he couldn't start over without Sean as his best friend.

And it would be difficult to remain friends when he couldn't even face the other man. So although he still felt guilty, he should go.


He was a terrible boyfriend, but he could be a not terrible best friend.

[Josh Bernstein]

November 1976

---

Josh and Donald sprawled across the floor of Josh's room. A math book lay open in the space between them, and both boys had notebooks across their knees. The sheet of paper Josh was working on was covered in grey streaks, and his expression was one of enormous frustration.

"It isn't that hard." Donald offered, glancing over at his friend's work.

Josh grunted in annoyance. "Then explain it!"

"Nuh-uh! That's Becky's job!"

Josh narrowed his eyes at the other boy. "She's my girlfriend, not my tutor."

Donald's pen flew across his page, leaving a trail of confident numbers and symbols in its wake. "Did you ever kiss her again?"

"She didn't want me to!" Josh reminded Donald, sighing and erasing yet another digit.

"Because it was in the hallway at school. Come on, Josh, you can kiss her other places. On the subway, in your room, in her room...."

"My parents won't let her come into my room!" Josh exclaimed, aghast at this suggestion. His mother very much wanted him to kiss girls, but bedrooms were not co-ed.

"If you aren't kissing her she isn't much of a girlfriend." Donald shrugged. "She's my friend, and I don't kiss her, but if she was my girlfriend I sure would."

"You have your own girlfriend." Josh snapped his notebook shut for emphasis. "I need a break, all these numbers are starting to look the same. Let's see if mom's got the cookies out of the oven yet."

Donald accepted this change of topic by shifting his own notebook off his lap and onto the floor beside him. "Mmmm. I'll never say no to cookies," He agreed, pushing himself to his feet.

Josh smiled as he lead his friend into the hallway. "Mo~m! Can Donald and I have a snack?"

[Josh Bernstein]

July 19th 1981

---

Atlantic City had once been a grand place to visit, or so the history books said. Much of it was desolate now, although the introduction of casinos had given it a resurgence. Not enough of a resurgence for it to compete with New York City, but then what could compete with The City?

Josh had little interest in gambling, but he also had barely seen Donald over the course of college, and so when his high school best friend had asked if he wanted to come, he had said yes.

He had reluctantly left Sean's side for this venture, but not an hour into the trip and he already missed his boyfriend. Worse, Donald wasn't even as much fun as he remembered. Instead his friend spent the entire time complaining about women:

About how his string of ex-girlfriends were all crazy. Christina had broken up with him for no reason, and Ruth had been friends with her ex-boyfriend and so couldn't be trusted, and Leslie had stopped talking to him for no reason. And all the girls he wanted to date, well, he didn't seem to like them very much, either, because Sue didn't have the guts to tell him she wasn't interested and had let him hang around her for months before he found out she liked someone else, and Tangela didn't realize that not many other guys would like a girl who wore so much makeup, and Stella was a little chubby but he could overlook that.

But he still cared about anti-violence causes, and he hated Reagan, and he thought that war and capitalism were destroying America and America was taking the rest of the world with it.

And when those topics came up, Josh chimed in with vehement agreement. But when girlfriends came up he felt increasingly uncomfortable, and when Donald asked about his own love life he remembered several years ago when the other young man had told him that Bekah was too pretty to be a lesbian.

Josh swallowed and shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. "I'm enjoying not having a girlfriend."

Which was not, exactly, a lie.

When they were in middle and high school he hadn't told Donald because he didn't want to face his friend's disgust. But now he wasn't sure that disgust would be the end of this.

"Oh. Hey, there's a tattoo parlor. I always wanted a tattoo."

Tattoo parlors were illegal in The City.

"I think I'll get one, too," Donald agreed, following Josh towards the neon signs that marked the parlor. "Best friends gotta stick together."


But the whole time he was in the chair Josh thought and thought of excuses to go home early.

And he knew he wouldn't say yes next time Donald wanted to meet him.

[Josh Bernstein]

November 1978

---

Light spilled across his notebook from his desk lamp. Beside the notebook was a stack of blank index cards; he occasionally chewed the end of his pen before scribbling terms across each card, then placing the newly created flashcard in a pile at the top of his notebook.

"Adrenergic, afferent, agonist," He muttered under his breath. "Ugh, why did I sign up for anatomy?"

He didn't look up as the door to the dorm creaked open.

"Alaeque, albuginea, allantois..."

"Hey."

The greeting, however, gave the freshman pause; he and his roommate rarely spoke.

"Yeah?" He asked cautiously, swiveling in his chair to face the other youth.

"That girl you hang out with, the senior, what's her name?"

"Daphne?"

There were other women among The Radicals, but he spent the most time with Daphne.

"Is that her name?" Aaron flung himself onto his bed. "She's so foxy. Can you introduce us?"

Josh scrunched up his face as he tried to imagine cool, smart, passionate Daphne interacting with his womanizing roommate. "Suuuuuure." He drew out the syllables in uncertainty, but Aaron didn't seem to notice.

"Right on! Tomorrow?"

"Ahhh...well...you can come to our protest meeting if you really want..."


"Yessss. Foxy free lovin' hippie girls!" Aaron exclaimed with so much glee that Josh was sure he was going to regret this offer later.

But he gave the other boy a pained smile before turning back to his flashcards. "Keen."

Daphne was going to be thrilled.

[Josh Bernstein]

October 5th 1979

---

Josh propped his chin in one hand, the other tapping against his glass of water. Although he wouldn't have sought out jazz music on his own he had to admit that the beat was infectious; if Sean had been a dancer he would have dragged his boyfriend out onto the dance floor.

Most of the clientele were other gay men, which was a relief. He would have agreed to support Dwayne's band either way, but he treasured each moment he didn't have to pretend he was straight.

"So do they have any recordings?" Daphne leaned across the table to address Harvey.

He shook his head ruefully, his earring flashing in the light. "Recording equipment and studios cost too much. But live gigs aren't too shabby."

Mike slung one arm around Harvey's shoulder with a smile. "We could raise them the money. Bake sale, anyone?"

Beside Daphne Agatha raised a critical eyebrow, and Daphne laughed.

"Who would buy baked goods from you?"

"I would!" Josh offered. "Especially for a good cause."

Harvey sighed in exasperation.

"It was a serious suggestion!" Mike looked hurt at this dismissal.

"I would buy your baked goods," Josh repeated. "Those brownies you brought to the last meeting were ace." He gave the other sophomore a thumbs up for emphasis.

"Don't look so sour," Harvey tapped his boyfriend on the nose. "Come on, let's show Dwayne how much we love their music."

Mike allowed himself to be dragged out onto the dance floor.

"We should do that." Josh commented, but Sean shook his head. "You know I don't dance."

Daphne stood, and held out a hand to Josh, "But I do."

Josh grinned and grabbed her hand. "But I'm still saving the last dance for you, Sean!" He called as he was lead out onto the dance floor.

[Josh Bernstein]

December 1975

---

Josh had always done well in school. Math and science had been a bit of a struggle, but a struggle meant that he made Bs with copious amounts of studying rather than the straight As he wanted.

Home Ec was neither a math nor a science, and so he had been filled with confidence. He would do well in this class, because he always did well in his classes. He had chosen a seat up front, because that was where the Responsible, Good students sat, and despite the fact that he and his best friend were known to sneak a joint now and then, he was a Responsible, Good student.

What he had not realized was that Home Ec used math.

He had difficulty following the patterns during sewing sessions. He couldn't quite figure out where to place his fabric on the machine, and he couldn't seem to thread a needle without poking his thumb repeatedly, and figuring out which part of the pattern to cut on and which was extra from a different size was nearly impossible.

He had difficulty following the recipes during cooking sessions. He confused teaspoons and tablespoons, and he could never seem to fill up to exactly the line when using measuring cups, and he had no idea how to even begin estimating what a pinch out to be, and it took him so long to get all his ingredients stirred together that when whipping he ended up making his cream too stiff.

By the end of the first semester he didn't understand any better than he had the first day, and for the first time in his life he was dreading finals.

[Josh Bernstein]

July 21st 1981

---

Their trip together had been noticeably strained. The Josh that Donald remembered was more enthusiastic, an eternal chatterbox. Since college they had largely communicated over the telephone; he hadn't noticed any difference then.

But since this trip together his friend seemed different, somehow. Each discussion of girlfriends saw the other youth clam up, shoulders hunching defensively. He had wished for a friendship that would last forever, the sort of childhood friendships one saw on television.

They had grown up together, but it was clear that college had seen them grow apart.

The only topic that did bring out Josh's enthusiasm was his roommate, and Donald had, over the course of the last several days, slowly pieced things together. Little details from high school fell into place, harmless details he had shrugged off as his friend being overly focused on politics:

His and Beckah's disinterest in more than holding hands, his admiration for Rock Hudson, the fact that he had deflected on topics related to girls and girlfriends from middle school up until the present. He was twenty one, but he hadn't had a girlfriend since high school. He hadn't ever so much as mentioned a girl he might have been interested in.

But he had brought up Sean Freshman year.

And he continued to bring up Sean, and all his wonderful attributes all these years later.

And when they said goodbye, he could tell that Josh was relieved to be going; the other man had never been very good at hiding his emotions.

And although Josh said "See you around!" Donald knew that this was the last goodbye.

[Josh Bernstein]

1966

---

Mrs. Bernstein cradled the phone receiver against her ear. "Yes, chicken pox. I'm very sorry, but since he had a playdate with Mitchell over the weekend I wanted to be sure you knew."

Josh huddled miserably on the sofa, covered in a mound of blankets. He itched all over, but each time he tried to scratch his mother placed a hand against his and gave him a stern look.

He whimpered and slouched further into the blankets. From the other room Talia began to cry, a sign that she had awakened from her nap.

His mother sighed, "I have to go, Talia'll be ready for a snack. Trying to keep her away from Josh has been a nightmare."

There was a pause, and then she added, "Mmm. Yes, you too! Take care."

She brushed a hand against his forehead as she passed. "I'll bring you some soup once I've fed your sister," She whispered, "So close your eyes and get some rest."

[Josh Bernstein]

May 29th 1965

---

His mother was in the hospital. She was supposed to come home on Monday, but that was two whole days away!

He missed her.

He missed her despite the fact that he had been surrounded by people nearly the entire time. He wasn't allowed to come with his father to the hospital to see her, and so he and Matt had bounced around between different families. His babysitter, Shulamit, had helped out some, and Ms. Fermi from down the hall.

Today after Shul he and Matt had gone home with the Jodorowskys, whose daughter Dawn was the same age as Josh. Although Mrs. Jodorowsky's cholent included zucchini in it, Josh's initial skepticism was proved unfounded; while she wasn't his mother, her cooking was not too bad after all.

Matt ate half a bowl, and then asked to be excused.

Josh asked for seconds.

[Josh Bernstein]

May 1983

---

He cut his hair short.

"I like it," Sean told him. Josh wasn't so sure.

His parents had given him money to buy a suit. "A nice one," His mother had emphasized. "You get it tailored if you have to."

He stood in the mirror and stared at his reflection uncertainly. He had stopped shaving, because he thought facial hair would make him look older, but he had yet to grow anything more than a five o clock shadow. He felt like a little kid in his daddy's suit, except that this suit was tailored to fit him.

"You'll do fine," Sean assured him when he expressed doubts about this interview. He wanted to believe this, wanted confidence that he would land a summer internship. But his grades had been so poor lately. He had only acquired his baccalaureate by the skin of his teeth, and this was a circumstance that had never happened to him before. He didn't know how to cope with that.


He didn't know how he was going to acquire his J.D. when he could barely pass basic, core classes.

Who did he think he was fooling? The interviewer would know he was a fraud.

He could feel anxiety well up within him as the date of the interview crept closer and closer.

He felt anxiety during the interview itself.

And when he was rejected from his first interview his mother said, "Don't worry, there are plenty more firms." And he knew, because he had put in applications at all of them, and had more interviews lined up.

But he also knew another thing:

He needed to improve his grades or his dream would be over before it even started.

[Josh Bernstein]

September 1987

---

Tonight's Sabbath dinner felt a bit crowded, whether because they were all adults now, or because there were two extra people.

Sean had been coming to Sabbath dinners for as long as he and Josh had been friends; Michelle was a more recent addition, but welcome nonetheless.

She was quiet, though, and from the way she and Matt told it they sometimes spent hours or even days not speaking to one another and they were both fine with that.

Josh didn't understand, but chalked it up to eccentricity. After all, they had both met in art school -- Matt now worked conserving paintings, and Michelle was a food stylist. As such, she had strong opinions on how to display food, and Charlie bowed to her expertise with the same affection she would have shown her own daughter.

They had only just begun to clear their plates when Matt coughed meaningfully. All eyes turned to him.

"Ahhh...Michelle and I have an announcement to make," He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and the pair offered the Bernstein clan the strained grins of two people who hated being the center of attention.

Charlie lit up at Matt's statement.

"We're engaged." Her oldest son finished, and scattered exclamations of "Mazel tov," rang out from around the room.

"Oh, how wonderful! I wish I had baked chocolate babka, so we could properly celebrate..." Charlie trailed off, looking despondent at this wasted opportunity.

Bobby patted her on the shoulder. "We still have some chocolate macaroons..."

She brightened again. "Of course! Talia, dear, go get some dessert plates."

Josh felt a twinge of jealousy as he and Sean rose to congratulate his brother. He would never be able to share his love life like this. School was his priority now, and then work would be more important than romance, and his friendship with Sean would always be first, but he still thought perhaps he would find someone to spend time with between the important things.

But when he did, he wouldn't be able to stand in front of his family like this.

Still, he smiled and clapped his brother on the shoulder, and hugged his future sister-in-law. He was jealous, but he was also happy for them.

And that was a mixture of emotions he would come to be very familiar with over the course of the rest of his life.

[Josh Bernstein]

May 1990

---

He had liked Simon well enough, back when they were friends. He enjoyed spending time with the other law student, but not any more than he enjoyed spending time with Daphne or Greg or any of the other numerous friends he had zero attraction to.

Sometimes he felt guilty about that.

The only other experience he had with boyfriends involved someone he couldn't keep his hands off, and that was a far cry from the relationship he had now.

But on the other hand, wasn't that for the best? He'd already learned that too much attraction was a distraction he couldn't afford. Didn't he want someone he liked but could resist when necessary? And Matt and Michelle obviously worked well together and they weren't constantly hanging off one another.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy himself when they were physical, but he didn't face constant temptation. He didn't catch himself daydreaming when he was supposed to be productive. He didn't feel that flutter of regret when they were apart, or of nervous excitement when they were reunited.

But he did want Simon to be happy, and he knew that being a Good Boyfriend meant he should pay attention to Simon's likes and dislikes and he should be solicitous. When Simon was happy Josh was happy, but he didn't quite feel the rush of excitement he had when he made Sean happy.

Maybe this was a good sign.

Maybe this was how relationships were supposed to work.

Maybe this meant this one would work out.

[Josh Bernstein]

1989

---

"Do you want to come to my place to watch a movie?"

Josh hadn't exactly known what to expect when he'd accepted to Lars Tischner's invitation, and so when Lars put in the VHS tape he was somewhat surprised to find that it was Torch Song Trilogy.

"I think we can both relate to this one," Lars told him.

Josh wished he couldn't; each depiction of homophobia was difficult to watch.

However, Lars proved distracting. He insisted on sitting uncomfortably close, and Josh was painfully aware of their bodies pressing up against one another. He was aware of Lars' hand brushing against his thigh during the more intimate moments of the movie.

He was aware of how devastatingly attractive the other man was.

As soon as the credits began to roll Josh shot up from the sofa.

"Thanks-for-inviting-me-over-it-was-fun-I-have-to-study-bye!" He excused himself as he made for the door.

"Don't you want to---" Lars began, but Josh was already out the door.

He never did find out how the other man intended to end that question.

[Josh Bernstein]

May 1995

---

They had locked eyes from across the courtroom, and Josh felt his heart skip a beat.

He had tried to suppress this feeling for the duration of the trial, but it slammed into him full force when the other man sauntered up to him as soon as they recessed for lunch.

"Care to join me for lunch?"

Josh hesitated, and wiped suddenly sweaty palms against the fabric of his trousers. "Ahh...that would be nice."

"I'm Saul, by the way. You did a wonderful job in there." The shorter man held a hand out, and Josh shook it firmly.

"Saul! It's a pleasure to meet you. I suppose you already know my name..."

It had only been spoken -- and shouted -- a million times during the course of the trial so far.

Saul raised an eyebrow. "So you want me to address you as Mister Bernstein?"

"Oh! No, no, Josh is fine."

"There's a little hole in the wall deli nearby that I just love. They're quick, we won't have to worry about getting back in time."

Josh beamed. "I love hole in the wall delis!" He exclaimed, and Saul laughed.

"I think we'll get along just fine, then."

[Josh Bernstein]

February 14 1996

---

Josh had spent months dancing around his interest in Saul. Each case that took him to the courthouse found him hoping that he would run into the other man there.

Sometimes he wandered to the corridor just outside Saul's courthouse even though he didn't have any business in the vicinity. Sometimes Saul asked him to have lunch at his deli.

But they hadn't exchanged numbers until last month, and neither ever called the other, and even then Josh didn't know what to do about these feelings. Both of his previous relationships had been initiated by the other party. Should he just flat out ask? At least he knew Saul was gay, too; when they had first met he hadn't been sure, and he had spent the first three months of their friendship absolutely certain that the other man was straight.

Until Saul had told an anecdote that outed himself, and Josh had breathed a sigh of relief.

But that hadn't lead to anything more. He had been somewhat reluctant to pursue, even after discovering that their sexualities were compatible, because he wasn't entirely sure that he could date anyone. He still had feelings for Sean, after all, and was that really fair to Saul?

But...but he was attracted to Saul in a way that he hadn't felt in years, and perhaps that meant something. Perhaps that meant he could get over Sean -- although that thought made him inwardly cringe. He didn't want to replace Sean. He still wanted to be best friends, the kind who could call one another up at three in the morning.

Having romantic obligations to someone else would make that difficult -- and was why he often felt overwhelming jealousy when his friend mentioned dates. If Sean had a partner, they automatically took precedence over three AM calls from a friend. And although Josh rarely made calls in the wee hours of the morning, he wanted to be able to.

He didn't want to be shut out.

And he didn't want to shut Sean out, either.

But maybe he could date Saul and still prioritize Sean. After all, those little sparks of excitement at seeing Saul were difficult to suppress.

And that just had to mean something.

Valentine's Day was fortunately a Wednesday, so everyone would be at court. He had made sure to keep his calendar clear of court dates, and had scheduled meetings early in the morning so as to give himself a large gap of time for lunch. Saul had agreed to meet him, although Josh hadn't shared his intentions.

It was with a stomach full of nerves and a bouquet full of roses he made his way to the deli Saul loved and hoped for the best.