Roger Bannister's head jolted back, and he found himself staring up to the ceiling of what look like a fairly large room. He blinked twice, and slowly brought his head down. He found himself staring into the eyes of his boyfriend, the love of his life… Jerry Harmon. An expression of pure confusion crossed Roger's face. Where was he? Who were all these people? Why did Jerry look so shocked? And what… what…
"What am I wearing?" Roger whispered to Jerry, finally voicing one of his questions. He took a breath of air, and stared at Jerry once more. He figured he better try to break down these questions… first of all, where was he? It looked as though his first thought had been right… this was a large room. A ballroom perhaps, people were certainly dressed that way. Girls is lavish dresses, men in gorgeous suits… and himself… he was dressed in the most god awful suit he had ever seen. Surely he hadn't chosen to wear this… or had he?
He closed his eyes, and strained to remember what had happened last. Monday afternoon, he had been among Joanna and Bobbie… his two new friends in Stepford. And Monday night… well, he lightly giggled when he recalled what had happened Monday night. He and Jerry had made love. It had felt so wonderful… they hadn't truly been together for the longest time. They had felt so close. It was beautiful. But then, what had happened after that? He seemed to remember… they had gone somewhere? He certainly didn't know where they had gone. Stepford didn't have much nightlife.
And suddenly he started to remember… Flashing images.
He and Jerry walking into the Stepford Men's Association. Jerry looking at him, intently, as though he was about to fix something… to tweak something.
Staring at a version of himself.
A robot.
A robot? His mind started whirring as it started to realize what had happened. He had been staring a the robot version of himself, and Jerry had walked up behind him, and he had said something. Roger tried to remember what he had said. It had been…
"Roger, of all the time I've been with you, I've both loved… and hated you. You refused to be anything like me. You seemed to rebel everything I wanted to be. You were flamboyant… girlish… feminine… sissy," he had hissed the word sissy as though it was an intolerable swear word, "And I loathed that about you. But… I love you. And I love you so much, that I am going to change you. Change you… make you everything that I have ever wanted. Everything I ever wanted…"
Roger gasped as he was brought out of his thoughts. He couldn't remember anything after Jerry's little speech… and what had happened? What had happened to him? "Jerry…" he whispered, starting to choke up with tears. There was a hint of plea in his voice. It seemed to plead for an explanation, an apology, anything that would help him understand what was happening.
Tears started to gush out of Roger's dark brown eyes. He took one last look at Jerry, before bolting. He ran through the throng of people, all to occupied with the other women's transformations to give Roger a second glance. He ran until he got to the curb in front of the large house. He collapsed on the sidewalk, and his head fell into his hands. He started to sob. Why would he do this to him? How could he do this to him? Sure, they had their problems… but, didn't every couple? What had driven Jerry to this?
Roger needed answers. But they were nowhere to be found. He inhaled deeply, his lungs filling with cold night air. Just as he started to exhale, he heard leaves crunching behind him. He turned around and saw Jerry walking toward him. At the sight of him, Roger's eyes began watering even more. Jerry walked up, and sat down on the curb next to him. He turned away, and he felt Jerry's lips on his lower neck. That was where he loved be kissed… But no!
He couldn't let Jerry kiss him. He couldn't forgive him. It was hard to admit, but he knew that he could never forgive him, for what he had done. Not only had he betrayed him, but he had tried to force him to be his dream man. It was sickening, in a way. Roger knew that he, even now, could never bring himself to actually try to reinvent Jerry. He had accepted him for himself. His republican, gray, non-flamboyant self. They say that opposites attract, but apparently attraction had not been enough for him.
Roger's innocent love for him had meant nothing. "Do you really love me?" Roger asked him, his voice brimming with a frightened kind of anticipation. He knew that it was a stupid question to ask, Jerry would probably automatically say yes. But Roger hoped that he would tell him the truth. The truth was what he really needed to hear, much more than any thinly veiled, but comfortable lie. "Well, I-I mean… if you just a little different you would be… you would be… perfection." Perfection. What an ugly word. And what did it mean? Should one person's ideal be forced upon someone else? Someone's idea of… perfection? But it didn't matter. He had just admitted. Jerry didn't really love him. Not at all.
Though he had wanted to hear the truth, it came as a shock to Roger. It was as though someone had punched him in the stomach unexpectedly. And it hurt. It really, really hurt. "I need to think," Roger said quickly, as he got up, "I need to clear my head, I'm going for a drive." He walked across the front of the large house, until he reached his car. Well… it was the car that he and Jerry shared. But he knew that Jerry would be able to find another way to get home. In all truth… he didn't really care.
He slid the keys into the ignition, and the car started up. As he drove away, he caught one last glace of Jerry. He was sitting on the curb, with his head in his hands, just as Roger had been, moments earlier. He took a deep breath, and drove right on past him. No matter how much he wanted to discuss this whole matter, a part of his brain was stubborn that he have alone time right now.
But where would he go? He knew no places that would work as a sanctuary. All that he knew was that he had to get away from this place. This town, this town that was filled with… Perfection.
The thought of then word made him push his foot to pedal even harder. The car was going pretty fast when he reached the gates that separated Stepford from the rest of the world. He sped past the gate, tearing a small metal bar away from the fence. He knew he would regret it later, be he also knew that he had to keep going.
He drove until he came to a small cluster of stores and restaurants. He squinted, at the brightness of all the lighted stores. He stepped out of the car, and slammed the door. He walked to the closest place to his car. As he pushed the glass door open, he found himself in a small, dimly-lit bar. He had never been in a bar before… he found them grotesque. But in his current situation, it just seemed to make sense. As he sat down by the front of the bar, he looked up at the barkeep, a short, skinny man dressed in black. He had a little gray beard, with gray hair to match. "Margarita, please," Roger all but begged. He knew he had to get some alcohol into his system. To wash away this terrible night.
When the man delivered the drink, Roger downed it in two gulps. With Margarita buzzing through his veins, he felt a bit more relaxed. Not as melancholy, either. "Do you have a wife?" he asked the barkeep. "Yes," the man said, a bit unsure of why he was asking him this.
"Would you ever… want to change anything about her?" "Well," the man replied, "Not really. I mean, I love my wi-" "Another margarita."
With this next drink, Roger didn't drink it quite as fast. He hoped the effect would last longer. But after every gulp, he knew deep inside… that he was still unhappy. Without another word to the bar owner, he got out of seat, and headed for his car. "Hey buddy," the man called after him, "Are you okay to drive home?".
And Roger knew that he was. But where would he drive, now? He couldn't go back home. But, he had to. There was nowhere else to run. He had to face Jerry.
As he pulled up in front of his large Stepford mansion, he took a minute to collect himself. He had to prepare himself for whatever would happen. The unknown… He jammed the key in the door, and turned the knob and entered the darkness of his house. All the lights were off, except for one. The kitchen. He knew that jerry was in there. So, he walked toward the light. When he got there, sure enough, there was Jerry. He was sitting on a chair, staring at the wall. His eyes were bloodshot, and it looked as though he had been crying. He hadn't heard Roger walk in, and he flinched out of surprise when he turned around and saw Roger.
"You're back," Jerry stated.
"How did you get home?" Roger asked, knowing he had been rude to leave him stranded at the party. "Taxi." He replied. Roger walked up to where he was sitting, and knelt down. "You've- You've been drinking?" Jerry asked, furrowing his brow, as he caught a whiff of Roger's breath. Roger nodded, and Jerry looked at him perplexedly. "Drinking away your problems?" He smirked a bit. Roger nodded once again, resenting the air of lunacy that Jerry seemed to imply.
Roger stared at Jerry for a bit more. Then, all of a sudden, he swept Jerry up in a passionate kiss. He held him tightly, wishing to never let go. To never let go… "I love you," he whispered, pressing his mouth against Jerry's ear, "I love you more than anyone, more that anything in the world. I love you… b-but I have to leave." He felt himself choking up once more. He had just made a life-changing decision. Life-changing, though it might have been, it was the right one. With that, he got up, and walked toward the door.
"Wait!" Jerry yelled to him, his voice begging for him to stay. But he had to go. To get out.
As he reached the door, he willed himself not to look back. He opened the door, and closed it, and he was outside. He had just shut the door on Jerry. On his old life. His old life, which had been so far from… Perfection.
"What am I wearing?" Roger whispered to Jerry, finally voicing one of his questions. He took a breath of air, and stared at Jerry once more. He figured he better try to break down these questions… first of all, where was he? It looked as though his first thought had been right… this was a large room. A ballroom perhaps, people were certainly dressed that way. Girls is lavish dresses, men in gorgeous suits… and himself… he was dressed in the most god awful suit he had ever seen. Surely he hadn't chosen to wear this… or had he?
He closed his eyes, and strained to remember what had happened last. Monday afternoon, he had been among Joanna and Bobbie… his two new friends in Stepford. And Monday night… well, he lightly giggled when he recalled what had happened Monday night. He and Jerry had made love. It had felt so wonderful… they hadn't truly been together for the longest time. They had felt so close. It was beautiful. But then, what had happened after that? He seemed to remember… they had gone somewhere? He certainly didn't know where they had gone. Stepford didn't have much nightlife.
And suddenly he started to remember… Flashing images.
He and Jerry walking into the Stepford Men's Association. Jerry looking at him, intently, as though he was about to fix something… to tweak something.
Staring at a version of himself.
A robot.
A robot? His mind started whirring as it started to realize what had happened. He had been staring a the robot version of himself, and Jerry had walked up behind him, and he had said something. Roger tried to remember what he had said. It had been…
"Roger, of all the time I've been with you, I've both loved… and hated you. You refused to be anything like me. You seemed to rebel everything I wanted to be. You were flamboyant… girlish… feminine… sissy," he had hissed the word sissy as though it was an intolerable swear word, "And I loathed that about you. But… I love you. And I love you so much, that I am going to change you. Change you… make you everything that I have ever wanted. Everything I ever wanted…"
Roger gasped as he was brought out of his thoughts. He couldn't remember anything after Jerry's little speech… and what had happened? What had happened to him? "Jerry…" he whispered, starting to choke up with tears. There was a hint of plea in his voice. It seemed to plead for an explanation, an apology, anything that would help him understand what was happening.
Tears started to gush out of Roger's dark brown eyes. He took one last look at Jerry, before bolting. He ran through the throng of people, all to occupied with the other women's transformations to give Roger a second glance. He ran until he got to the curb in front of the large house. He collapsed on the sidewalk, and his head fell into his hands. He started to sob. Why would he do this to him? How could he do this to him? Sure, they had their problems… but, didn't every couple? What had driven Jerry to this?
Roger needed answers. But they were nowhere to be found. He inhaled deeply, his lungs filling with cold night air. Just as he started to exhale, he heard leaves crunching behind him. He turned around and saw Jerry walking toward him. At the sight of him, Roger's eyes began watering even more. Jerry walked up, and sat down on the curb next to him. He turned away, and he felt Jerry's lips on his lower neck. That was where he loved be kissed… But no!
He couldn't let Jerry kiss him. He couldn't forgive him. It was hard to admit, but he knew that he could never forgive him, for what he had done. Not only had he betrayed him, but he had tried to force him to be his dream man. It was sickening, in a way. Roger knew that he, even now, could never bring himself to actually try to reinvent Jerry. He had accepted him for himself. His republican, gray, non-flamboyant self. They say that opposites attract, but apparently attraction had not been enough for him.
Roger's innocent love for him had meant nothing. "Do you really love me?" Roger asked him, his voice brimming with a frightened kind of anticipation. He knew that it was a stupid question to ask, Jerry would probably automatically say yes. But Roger hoped that he would tell him the truth. The truth was what he really needed to hear, much more than any thinly veiled, but comfortable lie. "Well, I-I mean… if you just a little different you would be… you would be… perfection." Perfection. What an ugly word. And what did it mean? Should one person's ideal be forced upon someone else? Someone's idea of… perfection? But it didn't matter. He had just admitted. Jerry didn't really love him. Not at all.
Though he had wanted to hear the truth, it came as a shock to Roger. It was as though someone had punched him in the stomach unexpectedly. And it hurt. It really, really hurt. "I need to think," Roger said quickly, as he got up, "I need to clear my head, I'm going for a drive." He walked across the front of the large house, until he reached his car. Well… it was the car that he and Jerry shared. But he knew that Jerry would be able to find another way to get home. In all truth… he didn't really care.
He slid the keys into the ignition, and the car started up. As he drove away, he caught one last glace of Jerry. He was sitting on the curb, with his head in his hands, just as Roger had been, moments earlier. He took a deep breath, and drove right on past him. No matter how much he wanted to discuss this whole matter, a part of his brain was stubborn that he have alone time right now.
But where would he go? He knew no places that would work as a sanctuary. All that he knew was that he had to get away from this place. This town, this town that was filled with… Perfection.
The thought of then word made him push his foot to pedal even harder. The car was going pretty fast when he reached the gates that separated Stepford from the rest of the world. He sped past the gate, tearing a small metal bar away from the fence. He knew he would regret it later, be he also knew that he had to keep going.
He drove until he came to a small cluster of stores and restaurants. He squinted, at the brightness of all the lighted stores. He stepped out of the car, and slammed the door. He walked to the closest place to his car. As he pushed the glass door open, he found himself in a small, dimly-lit bar. He had never been in a bar before… he found them grotesque. But in his current situation, it just seemed to make sense. As he sat down by the front of the bar, he looked up at the barkeep, a short, skinny man dressed in black. He had a little gray beard, with gray hair to match. "Margarita, please," Roger all but begged. He knew he had to get some alcohol into his system. To wash away this terrible night.
When the man delivered the drink, Roger downed it in two gulps. With Margarita buzzing through his veins, he felt a bit more relaxed. Not as melancholy, either. "Do you have a wife?" he asked the barkeep. "Yes," the man said, a bit unsure of why he was asking him this.
"Would you ever… want to change anything about her?" "Well," the man replied, "Not really. I mean, I love my wi-" "Another margarita."
With this next drink, Roger didn't drink it quite as fast. He hoped the effect would last longer. But after every gulp, he knew deep inside… that he was still unhappy. Without another word to the bar owner, he got out of seat, and headed for his car. "Hey buddy," the man called after him, "Are you okay to drive home?".
And Roger knew that he was. But where would he drive, now? He couldn't go back home. But, he had to. There was nowhere else to run. He had to face Jerry.
As he pulled up in front of his large Stepford mansion, he took a minute to collect himself. He had to prepare himself for whatever would happen. The unknown… He jammed the key in the door, and turned the knob and entered the darkness of his house. All the lights were off, except for one. The kitchen. He knew that jerry was in there. So, he walked toward the light. When he got there, sure enough, there was Jerry. He was sitting on a chair, staring at the wall. His eyes were bloodshot, and it looked as though he had been crying. He hadn't heard Roger walk in, and he flinched out of surprise when he turned around and saw Roger.
"You're back," Jerry stated.
"How did you get home?" Roger asked, knowing he had been rude to leave him stranded at the party. "Taxi." He replied. Roger walked up to where he was sitting, and knelt down. "You've- You've been drinking?" Jerry asked, furrowing his brow, as he caught a whiff of Roger's breath. Roger nodded, and Jerry looked at him perplexedly. "Drinking away your problems?" He smirked a bit. Roger nodded once again, resenting the air of lunacy that Jerry seemed to imply.
Roger stared at Jerry for a bit more. Then, all of a sudden, he swept Jerry up in a passionate kiss. He held him tightly, wishing to never let go. To never let go… "I love you," he whispered, pressing his mouth against Jerry's ear, "I love you more than anyone, more that anything in the world. I love you… b-but I have to leave." He felt himself choking up once more. He had just made a life-changing decision. Life-changing, though it might have been, it was the right one. With that, he got up, and walked toward the door.
"Wait!" Jerry yelled to him, his voice begging for him to stay. But he had to go. To get out.
As he reached the door, he willed himself not to look back. He opened the door, and closed it, and he was outside. He had just shut the door on Jerry. On his old life. His old life, which had been so far from… Perfection.