river, without the e

Albert was my first openly gay friend. Before I met him, I saw one of his plays. It was about a son who had suffered years of sexual abuse at the hands of his father. The son kidnaps and tortures his father. During the last scene, the father is hogtied, naked, with a gag in his mouth. The son stands behind the father, triumphant, with a plunger held high above his head. As the son aims the plunger at the father's exposed rear, the theater goes black and a horrific scream rips through the darkness. For the curtain call, the father and son stood stonily in front of the audience. The son held the plunger victoriously above his head, smiling broadly. The father stood naked, bits of rope binding his wrists and ankles, gag still firmly wedged in his mouth. The audience didn't know whether to clap or call the police. It was the most uncomfortable I had ever felt in an audience. It was brilliant. Albert became my hero.

He and I were in a playwriting class together. It was a very small class, maybe six of us in all, and we sat around a conference table in a circle. I was the only woman in the class. Albert and I were both in love with our professor, Jonathan. He was the first teacher I had ever had who insisted his students call him by his first name.

Each week, Albert would purposely write scenes with sexually explosive dialogue and ask Jonathan to read the scenes with him. Albert would invariably get a boner in these classes, sweat breaking out on his forehead and dripping into his eyes. Afterward, Albert would appear spent, finding excuses to stay seated at the conference table until he could talk his erection down.

A few weeks into the semester, HE walked into class. The door swung open in the middle of a discussion, and he swaggered in. He walked with the ease and confidence of a man coming home at the end of a day. His jeans were saran wrapped to his thighs, and his bulge pulsated like a neon sign. He handed a slip of paper to Jonathan and wordlessly took a seat next to Albert. We all stared as he sat back in the chair with his legs spread wide and stared up at the ceiling. Albert clutched my hand under the table, directing his wide gaze at the bulge. I nodded in acknowledgment. Jonathan stared down at the slip he had just been given.

"Welcome to class Brian Gallagher. Tell us about yourself." There was no movement or reaction from him. He continued his study of the ceiling.

"Brian? Yoo hoo. Anybody home in there?" Jonathan snapped his fingers in front of his face. He was a rock. I felt Albert's hand sweating in my own. We squeezed messages to one another. Mine said, who is this guy? His said, I don't know, but he's mine bitch!

After a tension-filled minute, he lowered his gaze from the ceiling and stared straight ahead. His mouth barely opened, but a gravelly voice escaped.

"Brian's dead. Left him back in California. Name's Rivr now. Without the E." That was all we got. Albert squished my fingers in his hand. He looked over at me, licked his lips and mouthed, I love him! Jonathan shook his head. I couldn't tell if he was impressed or annoyed.

"Okay. River without the E. Last name?"

"None."

"Of course."

Over the next few weeks, Rivr hinted at a past that was dark and tormented. There were rumors of drugs, prison, murder and a 40-year-old ex-wife. Rivr scoffed at our immature conjectures, but did nothing to quiet the stories swirling around him about his origins.

Rivr's writing was so graphic it made even Albert blush. Each week, he brought in scenes that were brutally misogynistic.

Man: "Woman, the only way to shut you up is to shove my hard cock in your mouth!"

Woman: "You know I'd do anything to make you happy."

Man: "Get over here and suck me hard before I find someone else."

Woman: "No! I couldn't live without your love."

As a theater major, I wrote, I built sets, I hung lights. These were all tasks I felt comfortable with. I was not an actor. I did not act. Even reading people's scenes in class made my throat go dry and my stomach twist into a pretzel. Rivr's scenes were the worst. As the only woman in the class, I was forced to read all of the female parts. He always asked Jonathan to read opposite me. In addition to teaching, Jonathan was also a playwright and an actor (the worst combination.) While I read each scene directly off the page as dryly as possible, Jonathan inhabited each scene. He reached across the table and shook me by the arms, shouting into my face when Rivr's stage directions instructed. I found my voice shrinking further away as Jonathan's voice, and Rivr's words, became more demonstrative.

I began to dread these classes and devised different ways to get out of reading Rivr's scenes. I suddenly developed allergies, sniffling and sneezing my way through classes. I also mysteriously developed larangitis on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 1-3pm, and once hiccuped for an hour, finally getting thrown out of class.

The excuse-making became exhausting. One day, when I had been too exhausted to feign illness, I was called upon to read Rivr's latest woman-bashing masterpiece.

"No." I said. The class perked up with interest.

"No? What do you mean, no?" Jonathan challenged.

"I find Rivr's material to be offensive and it makes me uncomfortable to be a part of it. Sorry, Rivr."

Jonathan and Rivr looked at each other and rolled their eyes. I didn't care. I no longer lusted after either of them. I just wanted to work on my own play (which was about a schizophrenic boy who kills his father at the request of his lustful mother. Not on the level of Albert's plunger, but I had my aspirations.) Albert patted me under the table. He knew how I had come to hate class, and he was willing to sacrifice his own dignity for the good of the class, and his raging hormones. Before Jonathan or Rivr had time to respond to my refusal, Albert batted his eyes and cleared his throat.

"Um, Rivr, I'd be honored to read your scenes. I find your work...riveting," Albert cooed. I leaned forward in my seat, thrilled to see the discomfort in the room. Both Jonathan and Rivr seemed to have shrunk in size at this proposal.

"I could do it like this, if you prefer." Albert added, raising his voice as high as he could manage. He stroked his neck while Rivr squirmed in his seat. I was in heaven. Rivr couldn't seem to find his voice, so Jonathan spoke for him.

"I think, that's very good of you, Albert. What do you say, Rivr?" Jonathan looked expectantly at Rivr, who seemed to be wishing he had remained in California, with Brian.

"Yeah, cool, yeah whatever cool yeah. Cool." Rivr could not meet Albert's eyes as he spoke.

Albert leaned across the table and patted Rivr's hand affectionately.

"It'll be magic, love. You'll see," Albert promised.

In the weeks that followed, Rivr's scenes toned down considerably. He turned his focus away from verbally battering women, (at least directly), and concentrated on a sappy father-son story with a dead mother.

"Son, your mother was a whore sent from hell."

"I know it pop. She wasn't good enough to spit shine your shoes."

"Ain't that the truth!"

Albert, however, championed the dead mother's cause. Playing the son, he wept pitifully whenever he talked about the mother. This drove Rivr to histrionics. He wanted the son to be full of venom for the mother. Albert rebuked all attempts to follow Rivr's directions.

"I'm so sorry Rivr. I'm trying to be more of a bastard," Albert said sheepishly, "It's just that your script is so moving. It's very emotional for me to read."

"I know Albert," Rivr would sigh. "I'm a very effective writer. Just try to control yourself."

Meanwhile, Albert promised me a surprise for the last day of class. Our final projects were due that day, and Albert had not let anyone see what he had been working on. While everyone else discussed their travel plans for break, I dreamed about Albert's surprise and counted the days.

I sat around the conference room on the last day of class. Everyone was there, anxious to read their scenes. Everyone but Albert. I looked expectantly at the clock, knowing that Albert hadn't been late to class once all semester.

"Has anyone heard from Albert?" Jonathan asked. We all shook our heads.

"Well, looks like we'll have to start without him," he lamented.

After we had all read and discussed our scenes, there was still 20 minutes left in the class. Everyone looked expectantly at Jonathan, hoping to be let out early. Just as he was about to dismiss us, Albert burst in through the door calling out apologies.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry! Fresh off the presses. I just couldn't get this scene right!" I shot him an icy stare and he kissed my head before sitting. Everyone else looked disappointed. I sat up at full attention, giddy with anticipation.

"Okay," Albert sighed. "This is a real departure for me. It's a story about two brothers. I"ve never done anything like this before. I'm a little nervous."

"It's okay, Albert," Jonathan reassured. "I'm sure it's fine. Let's have a look." Jonathan reached for a copy of the scene, but Albert pulled it away.

"I'm sorry, Jonathan. I'd actually like Rivr to read it with me, if it's all right. I sort of had him in mind when I wrote it. You inspired the character, Rivr," Albert blushed.

"Yeah," Rivr agreed. "This isn't the first time I've heard that."

"Okay. Let's get on with it," Jonathan said, looking somewhat ruffled.

"Oh, one last thing," Albert cleared his throat. "The character Javier was inspired by Rivr, but I'd like to dedicate this to Noreen." Albert smirked as I sat on the edge of my seat, holding my breath.

The scene involved brothers, Javier and Armando. Rivr read Javier's lines, and Albert read Armando's. The stage directions described two buff and sweaty brothers chopping wood in the forest, discussing an upcoming dance at their high school.

Javier: I sure hope Maria will go to the dance with me.

Armando: I don't care. I'm not going.

Javier: What do you mean, not going? You're my best brother. We have to go together. I'm sure you can find someone....

Armando: I'm not taking any stupid girl to the dance, "brother".
(Javier throws down his axe and grabs his brother by the arms) Javier: Hey now, what's this all about? You can tell me.

Armando: Can I? Can I tell you anything?

Javier: You say it, brother, whatever it is. I'm here for you.

Armando: You know how Mom says you don't look like me cause we're fraternal twins?
Javier: Yeah sure.

Armando: Well that's a lie.

Javier: You mean we're not fraternal twins?

Armando: No, we're not fraternal twins. But it gets worse.

Javier: I don't see how.

Armando: We're not really brothers at all. Some neighbor lady left you on our porch and Mom took you in as her own. So, there are absolutely no blood ties binding us. None whatsoever. (Javier picks up the axe and furiously chops up a branch, grunting)

Javier: How....I don't understand....(Javier throws down the axe and kneels in front of Armando. Javier hugs Armando around the hips and weeps into his crotch. Armando rubs his back soothingly.)

Armando: Javier, there's more.

Javier: I don't think I can take anything else. (Armando kneels down and cradles Javier's head in his hands.)

Armando: I can't. But I have to. But how will you understand me? Please. Forgive me brother. I am in love with you.

At this point, Rivr's eyes widened and Albert shot in towards him, ramming his tongue into Rivr's mouth. I counted to four before RIvr freed himself from Albert's vice-like grip. Albert's eyes were closed. He had a heavenly expression on his face. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw Rivr staring at him like a frightened child.

"Oh my God, Rivr. I don't know what came over me. I was method acting. Your performance was so mesmerizing. I couldn't help myself. I really became Armando." Albert pinched me under the table. I bit the inside of my lip to keep from exploding.

Rivr was speechless. Jonathan held his hand over his mouth. The rest of the class sat on edge, waiting for violence to erupt from Rivr. But it didn't. Nothing happened. Rivr stared down at his hands for a moment and then quietly got up and walked out. Albert then stood up and gracefully curtseyed at the class. He walked out without looking back. The rest of us waited in stunned silence until Jonathan finally moved and said, Well, good work everyone. Enjoy the break. He walked out of the room in a daze.

That was the last time I ever saw Albert or Rivr. Albert had to drop out of school to care for his dying mother. I hadn't even known she was sick. Rivr disappeared as wordlessly as he had appeared. I wondered if he ended up in a new school in a new city, introducing himself as Blue, without the E.

In my mind, I like to see them both somewhere together. They're on a deserted island, sipping margaritas in the sun. Albert is laying on his stomach blissfully. Rivr is bending over him, massaging oil into his back. Albert is chuckling at Rivr, who is, naturally, wearing jeans and cowboy boots at the beach.