December 24
Collins stood up in front of a reasonably small crowd of about fifteen, twenty people. A memorial for the deceased of the past couple of years had been organized by the life support group. It had taken him days to write and revise the speech for Angel. And he had spent much thought deciding whether he truly wanted to stand up and read it. Surveying the crowd now, he could make out the dark, made up face of Angel's best friends Sasha. Sasha had never attended a life support meeting, he didn't have AIDS, but had still come to pay respect to Angel. Shelby sat beside Sasha, one thin arm hooked around the elder drag queen's waist. Tom had never really gotten a chance to talk to the exotic group of transvestites /Stop stalling./ He murmured to himself, before he took a deep breath, and began.
"Two years. It had been two years since I met Angel. Two years since I first knew what love really was."
A breath was drawn as he looked out into his audience. Mark had shot a smile his way, and the others had all gathered around. A renewed courage sprang up in him as he continued.
"Mark always had his work. He was the brooding artist that spent days at a time working with his camera. I always envied him of his creative spirit.
"Roger was the musician, talented and suave. The first thing you noticed about him was the striking good looks and fiery character. Never once had I ever possessed such a charge of personality.
"Benny had an entrepreneural mind that overflowed with commercial ideas that would bring in money. His dreams had differed from the rest of ours: He had wanted studios and neckties. The perfect businessman.
"Maureen. She was, well, Maureen. An odd girl out in our band of friendship-being the only female in the loft. I don't think she minded though. She had the most gorgeous voice you'd ever hear, and the looks to match it. Exotic and feisty-she caught every guy she walked past's eye.
"Then there was me. Plain old Collins. I wasn't amazingly good looking, incrediably business minded, creatively brooding, or even straight for that matter. I was the teacher, the "vagabond anarchist," the lone ranger.
"I can still remember when I had gotten up the courage to tell Roger, Mark, Benny and Maureen that I was gay. Maureen hadn't minded at all. Benny had detached a little bit-but I had never felt too close to him anyway. Mark shrugged it off, and supported me. Roger blew a pipe. He screamed and hollared about me not belonging with them, and ordered me out of the loft. That was when I accepted the job at MIT. I had been meaning to turn it down, but I could tell that Roger was too uncomfortable with me around. And as far as I went with freedom and anarchy, I couldn't force through awkwardness Roger out of the loft. So I left.
"After a while, I'm sure I was forgiven, because I received a letter later asking me to come visit sometime. It had been from Roger. It was nice to know that he wasn't still pissed off at me. But I still needed a little while to pull my life together. I stayed at MIT for seven months.
"Roger always had girls around him. Touching him, laughing with him. I had gotten used to the ease in which he found lovers. Benny had his Alison. Maureen had Joanne. And Mark-Mark had himself. Had himself and his camera-that was what he was comfortable with. I was so sure that once again I would be passed by. Poor, plain, gay Collins. Poor, plain, gay, /lonely/ Collins.
"Then Angel came along. It was like a dream. For once, someone saw me, and like me for who I was. Not who my friends were, or what my paycheck was. But someone who liked me for /me/. I had never dreamed something so gorgeous, so incrediably alive, could see anything worth it in me. Yet-Angel did, and I fell in love.
"I can't help but admit-my life was in shambles when I met Angel. I had just spent seven months away from my closest friends, I had no idea what I would find upon returning, whether they wanted me there, or whether they even remembered me. A bad brush with fate had left me feeling like a nobody yet again, as the dean at MIT kicked me out because of a little charade I had pulled. His angry words rang in my ears as I boarded the plane back. I hadn't expected anything. A cold greeting was sure to be waiting for me. Roger could even be dead fora ll I knew. When I left, he was suffering from the aftershock of April's death and his own drug use. I can't say I was surprised when I got mugged. That was just like my luck. Collins gets taken advantage of again.
"Battered and bruised, I had suddenly found myself in the arms of a true angel. Everything about him spoke of happiness and contentment. From the grin that would creep over his face and reach all the way to his eyes, making them sparkle amber, to the smooth, graceful way his body moved. I remained enchanted by his every movement-he made it all so frightfully easy and elegant.
"Our first kiss...oh God-I swear my heart had stopped for those endless minutes of contact. His soft lips against mine, his hand that lay on my cheek, and his warm body pressed up against mine. All these things made my knees falter, and it was all I could do not to collapse right there. I cannot say whether he suffered from the same ailments, but I felt him quiver when we touched. It made my heart race as it had never before. Almost terrifying. Every single movement, every single touch, every single time he had moved his lips to caress mine gently, it left me aching, burning for more.
"I had never been one to write poetry. Ask anyone. But suddenly, I found myself up at three in the morning laying in bed, staring at him sleeping, and scribbling down lines on a loose piece of notebook paper. After a while, I started putting a notebook by the bed, just so I could scratch it down in that. When he asked what was in it-at first I had been ashamed. I mean, I was almost certain Angel would laugh, but after a while I told him, and he seemed perfectly fine about it. Even a bit flattered, as the pink in his cheeks revealed.
"I remember-the first time I truly realized how much he trusted me. We had just been talking in the small flat we had managed to rent for a short period of time. The fire had been lit, and it had been our only light-as the electricity bill was one too high for our meager expenses. All of a sudden, he began to tell me about himself. Not just his name, age, or even schooling. But other things, about his parents throwing him out of the house and refusing to keep in touch. About his sister moving away and eloping some foreigner. About his friends, and about Cane.
"Perhaps it was Cane that made me the most angry. As Angel described him, he was an amazingly handsome man with a decieving charm and terrible temper. For five years Angel had remained his lover-his puppet. For five years, physical, emotional, and sexual abuse had been Angel's to cherish. How anyone could want to hurt Angel, how anyone could want to ever make him miserable was so beyond me. I could feel my baby shaking as he told me everything. Tears had long since welled up in his eyes. If there was one thing I hated to see-it was him upset. But for some reason, he had wanted me to know.
"He trusted me.
"After he had spilled everything, I had thought he was just going to clam up, and shrunk back into his protective little shell, as he was wont to when he felt uncomfortable. But then, he had took my hand, pushed me back on the couch, and leaned up close to my ear. I had no idea what he was going to say. Then, in a soft whisper, he had murmured: "I love you."
"He loved me.
"Angel Dumott Schunard, the elegant, gorgeous, sophistocated drag queen who could easily grab almost any person in the world, loved plain, background Collins. For once, /I/ was the center of someone's life. Not Roger. Not Benny. Not Mark. Not Maureen. /Me/.
"I think of that night all the time now. It almost makes me happy-I can still hear his murmured words as if he was right there with me again.
"Those months we were together made me so happy. Even Mark said he had never seen me so vibrant, so content. And I was. I was filled with the most wonderful feeling there was. I was in love. And I was floating a million miles above the ground. It took Angel's death to pull me down. All of a sudden, Angel was gone. Angel was gone, and I was nobody again. I was just another face in the crowd. Once more, I was plain, poor, lonesome Collins was wasn't good enough. But I had tasted love, I had tasted true peace, and I wanted to feel that again.
"After a while, the burning, achy feeling had filled up my entire being. There was nothing left but pented up greif. So I began to seclude myself into my own little shell. I wanted to be alone. That was honestly all I wanted.
"Angel Dumott Schunard. The name fit him. Angel. It was so strange, the way that he had just showed up at exactly the right time with his warm comfort and encompassing joy. Every kiss, every touch, every smile found its way right down to my heart, and slowly melted the blockade I had formed around it over the past seven months. Loneliness had been a way of life, but in an instant I was swept away from the dispairing gulf and warmed by his arms. He truly was my angel-I'm sure now that he was sent by God. Who else could have planned it so perfectly? Angel gave me something to live for.
"Maybe that's why he was sent-to give me a taste of love. To give me a taste of what it's like to be adored, and taken care of. But his job was finished, I was happy, and he wasn't needed anymore. Realizing that hurts-I can't help but want to scream out to the I do still need him. I need him more than anything. I can't live without him. I don't want to live without him. That he means more to me than anything-and that Lord should give him back.
"It took me a little while, but I've realized-I can't hide behind my greif. Angel wouldn't have wanted it. Angel wouldn't have tolerated it. He couldn't stand my sulking-and every time I did it I was greeted with a stony shoulder and an aloof statue for a lover. Not too satisfying in the sex department, and even worse in the love. Angel was always ready with compassion and sympathy, but he couldn't stand brooding, or whining for that matter. Sadness was one thing, but self-pity was another. And Angel knew the difference-he could smell cynics a mile away.
"Rebuilding myself is going to take days, weeks, months, years really. But I feel as if Angel's holding my hand every step of the way. He whispers to me in the breeze, he touches me in the rain, he smiles at me in the sun. I can feel him everywhere-now that I've looked out. I'm realizing-although it hurts like hell-that he's not going to come back, and that no amount of anger or brooding is going to change that. But every time I manage to get out of bed in the morning, and walk down the street with my pockets full of benefactoral funds, I can feel him, pushing me forward every step of the day.
"Angel steered Mimi back to life. I can't say I wasn't upset. Hell, I was pissed off beyond belief. I hated Mimi and Roger for a while. But now Angel's steering me back to life too. I had masked happiness for a week or so, right before Mimi had had her brush with death. But that just made me feel worse. Now, its like a shadow being lifted from my soul. The sunshine is bright, and it's warmer than I've ever known it to be.
"I'm not saying I'm happy now. I'm not. I cry almost every night. Silently, but it still hurts to reach out in the bed I'm sleeping in and feel only sheets. I miss him so much...and almost every morning I fight a war to make myself get out of bed. Some days, I lose, and stay in there for a while-emotionally too worn to try and get up. On those days, I could almost feel Angel laying beside me, head rested on my chest, sobbing at my defeat. It is those days that I wish to die, just to close my eyes and never open them to the harsh light again. However, most other days I manage to get out of bed and pull on clothes. And those days I could almost feel Angel's smile, satisfied and warm, as he nuzzles at my cheek as he was wont to do. It is those days that I know I'll pull through, that I'll manage to live my live for Angel.
"Angel gave me so much. He gave me trust, he gave me happiness, he gave me insight, he gave me the want to give, he gave me love.
"And even though Angel Dumott Schunard is no longer here with me, I know that he's watching somewhere from Heaven. That the rain is his tears, his way of showing me that he still thinks of me, still misses me, in the golden gates that wait at the end of Jacob's Ladder. Yet the sun is his smile, as he laughs with joy when I manage to walk a step forward into the life that I want, and that I'll live. Angel has given me the most important thing in a person's life-no matter what anyone else says.
"A reason to live."
Tears streamed down his face as he quickly folded his paper and sat down. Mark rubbed his shoulder, Maureen kissed his cheek. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps could be heard behind him.
"That was a really good speech." The vodka voice was husky, and accented heavily. Collins turned around and saw the slim figure of Sasha standing in back of him, accompanied by an assortment of well-dressed drag queens. Angel's exotic group of transvestite friends.
"Thanks."
"Yanno, I never thought I'd actually admit this, but you're not as bad as we all thought."
"What?"
Darkly painted lips curved upward in half a smile as Sasha extended a hand.
"I'm Sasha Fermot, and I'm willing to forgive you for taking away the second best drag queen in our group. Angel had always sorta wanted us to like you. I...guess we didn't really want to. But we figured now, from your speech, that you really did take care of my Angel."
The way he said it, "my Angel" made Collins wonder exactly what he meant. Then he remembered all the times Angel had smiled and talked about Sasha. Sasha taking care of him. Sasha cleaning up after his thoughtless messes. Sasha taking him under his wing in the cold, unfeeling downtown NYC. In a moment, Tom understood.
"I'm Tom Collins. It's nice to meet you as well. You know, Angel talked a lot about you all."
A murmur of acknowledgment swept over the drag queen group as another one stepped forward: Shelby, Sasha's lover and devoted apprentice.
"I'm Shelby Kingson. Hi."
The bright smile was hard to resist, and dispite himself, Collins let a small smile creep upon his own face. One by one each of the crossdressers introduced themselves, before Sasha finally spun around, motioning for them to follow him. A few words were tossed over his shoulder back at Collins.
"You take care of yourself Collins. And that speech really was great. Bye." The band disappeared from view. Mark, Roger, Mimi, Maureen, Joanne, and Collins all watched after them.
Slowly, Collins looked up and let his eyes focus on the sky. Through the thick canopy of gray clouds...a small ray of sunlight shined through, and landed directly on Angel's tombstone.
A reason to live....
Collins stood up in front of a reasonably small crowd of about fifteen, twenty people. A memorial for the deceased of the past couple of years had been organized by the life support group. It had taken him days to write and revise the speech for Angel. And he had spent much thought deciding whether he truly wanted to stand up and read it. Surveying the crowd now, he could make out the dark, made up face of Angel's best friends Sasha. Sasha had never attended a life support meeting, he didn't have AIDS, but had still come to pay respect to Angel. Shelby sat beside Sasha, one thin arm hooked around the elder drag queen's waist. Tom had never really gotten a chance to talk to the exotic group of transvestites /Stop stalling./ He murmured to himself, before he took a deep breath, and began.
"Two years. It had been two years since I met Angel. Two years since I first knew what love really was."
A breath was drawn as he looked out into his audience. Mark had shot a smile his way, and the others had all gathered around. A renewed courage sprang up in him as he continued.
"Mark always had his work. He was the brooding artist that spent days at a time working with his camera. I always envied him of his creative spirit.
"Roger was the musician, talented and suave. The first thing you noticed about him was the striking good looks and fiery character. Never once had I ever possessed such a charge of personality.
"Benny had an entrepreneural mind that overflowed with commercial ideas that would bring in money. His dreams had differed from the rest of ours: He had wanted studios and neckties. The perfect businessman.
"Maureen. She was, well, Maureen. An odd girl out in our band of friendship-being the only female in the loft. I don't think she minded though. She had the most gorgeous voice you'd ever hear, and the looks to match it. Exotic and feisty-she caught every guy she walked past's eye.
"Then there was me. Plain old Collins. I wasn't amazingly good looking, incrediably business minded, creatively brooding, or even straight for that matter. I was the teacher, the "vagabond anarchist," the lone ranger.
"I can still remember when I had gotten up the courage to tell Roger, Mark, Benny and Maureen that I was gay. Maureen hadn't minded at all. Benny had detached a little bit-but I had never felt too close to him anyway. Mark shrugged it off, and supported me. Roger blew a pipe. He screamed and hollared about me not belonging with them, and ordered me out of the loft. That was when I accepted the job at MIT. I had been meaning to turn it down, but I could tell that Roger was too uncomfortable with me around. And as far as I went with freedom and anarchy, I couldn't force through awkwardness Roger out of the loft. So I left.
"After a while, I'm sure I was forgiven, because I received a letter later asking me to come visit sometime. It had been from Roger. It was nice to know that he wasn't still pissed off at me. But I still needed a little while to pull my life together. I stayed at MIT for seven months.
"Roger always had girls around him. Touching him, laughing with him. I had gotten used to the ease in which he found lovers. Benny had his Alison. Maureen had Joanne. And Mark-Mark had himself. Had himself and his camera-that was what he was comfortable with. I was so sure that once again I would be passed by. Poor, plain, gay Collins. Poor, plain, gay, /lonely/ Collins.
"Then Angel came along. It was like a dream. For once, someone saw me, and like me for who I was. Not who my friends were, or what my paycheck was. But someone who liked me for /me/. I had never dreamed something so gorgeous, so incrediably alive, could see anything worth it in me. Yet-Angel did, and I fell in love.
"I can't help but admit-my life was in shambles when I met Angel. I had just spent seven months away from my closest friends, I had no idea what I would find upon returning, whether they wanted me there, or whether they even remembered me. A bad brush with fate had left me feeling like a nobody yet again, as the dean at MIT kicked me out because of a little charade I had pulled. His angry words rang in my ears as I boarded the plane back. I hadn't expected anything. A cold greeting was sure to be waiting for me. Roger could even be dead fora ll I knew. When I left, he was suffering from the aftershock of April's death and his own drug use. I can't say I was surprised when I got mugged. That was just like my luck. Collins gets taken advantage of again.
"Battered and bruised, I had suddenly found myself in the arms of a true angel. Everything about him spoke of happiness and contentment. From the grin that would creep over his face and reach all the way to his eyes, making them sparkle amber, to the smooth, graceful way his body moved. I remained enchanted by his every movement-he made it all so frightfully easy and elegant.
"Our first kiss...oh God-I swear my heart had stopped for those endless minutes of contact. His soft lips against mine, his hand that lay on my cheek, and his warm body pressed up against mine. All these things made my knees falter, and it was all I could do not to collapse right there. I cannot say whether he suffered from the same ailments, but I felt him quiver when we touched. It made my heart race as it had never before. Almost terrifying. Every single movement, every single touch, every single time he had moved his lips to caress mine gently, it left me aching, burning for more.
"I had never been one to write poetry. Ask anyone. But suddenly, I found myself up at three in the morning laying in bed, staring at him sleeping, and scribbling down lines on a loose piece of notebook paper. After a while, I started putting a notebook by the bed, just so I could scratch it down in that. When he asked what was in it-at first I had been ashamed. I mean, I was almost certain Angel would laugh, but after a while I told him, and he seemed perfectly fine about it. Even a bit flattered, as the pink in his cheeks revealed.
"I remember-the first time I truly realized how much he trusted me. We had just been talking in the small flat we had managed to rent for a short period of time. The fire had been lit, and it had been our only light-as the electricity bill was one too high for our meager expenses. All of a sudden, he began to tell me about himself. Not just his name, age, or even schooling. But other things, about his parents throwing him out of the house and refusing to keep in touch. About his sister moving away and eloping some foreigner. About his friends, and about Cane.
"Perhaps it was Cane that made me the most angry. As Angel described him, he was an amazingly handsome man with a decieving charm and terrible temper. For five years Angel had remained his lover-his puppet. For five years, physical, emotional, and sexual abuse had been Angel's to cherish. How anyone could want to hurt Angel, how anyone could want to ever make him miserable was so beyond me. I could feel my baby shaking as he told me everything. Tears had long since welled up in his eyes. If there was one thing I hated to see-it was him upset. But for some reason, he had wanted me to know.
"He trusted me.
"After he had spilled everything, I had thought he was just going to clam up, and shrunk back into his protective little shell, as he was wont to when he felt uncomfortable. But then, he had took my hand, pushed me back on the couch, and leaned up close to my ear. I had no idea what he was going to say. Then, in a soft whisper, he had murmured: "I love you."
"He loved me.
"Angel Dumott Schunard, the elegant, gorgeous, sophistocated drag queen who could easily grab almost any person in the world, loved plain, background Collins. For once, /I/ was the center of someone's life. Not Roger. Not Benny. Not Mark. Not Maureen. /Me/.
"I think of that night all the time now. It almost makes me happy-I can still hear his murmured words as if he was right there with me again.
"Those months we were together made me so happy. Even Mark said he had never seen me so vibrant, so content. And I was. I was filled with the most wonderful feeling there was. I was in love. And I was floating a million miles above the ground. It took Angel's death to pull me down. All of a sudden, Angel was gone. Angel was gone, and I was nobody again. I was just another face in the crowd. Once more, I was plain, poor, lonesome Collins was wasn't good enough. But I had tasted love, I had tasted true peace, and I wanted to feel that again.
"After a while, the burning, achy feeling had filled up my entire being. There was nothing left but pented up greif. So I began to seclude myself into my own little shell. I wanted to be alone. That was honestly all I wanted.
"Angel Dumott Schunard. The name fit him. Angel. It was so strange, the way that he had just showed up at exactly the right time with his warm comfort and encompassing joy. Every kiss, every touch, every smile found its way right down to my heart, and slowly melted the blockade I had formed around it over the past seven months. Loneliness had been a way of life, but in an instant I was swept away from the dispairing gulf and warmed by his arms. He truly was my angel-I'm sure now that he was sent by God. Who else could have planned it so perfectly? Angel gave me something to live for.
"Maybe that's why he was sent-to give me a taste of love. To give me a taste of what it's like to be adored, and taken care of. But his job was finished, I was happy, and he wasn't needed anymore. Realizing that hurts-I can't help but want to scream out to the I do still need him. I need him more than anything. I can't live without him. I don't want to live without him. That he means more to me than anything-and that Lord should give him back.
"It took me a little while, but I've realized-I can't hide behind my greif. Angel wouldn't have wanted it. Angel wouldn't have tolerated it. He couldn't stand my sulking-and every time I did it I was greeted with a stony shoulder and an aloof statue for a lover. Not too satisfying in the sex department, and even worse in the love. Angel was always ready with compassion and sympathy, but he couldn't stand brooding, or whining for that matter. Sadness was one thing, but self-pity was another. And Angel knew the difference-he could smell cynics a mile away.
"Rebuilding myself is going to take days, weeks, months, years really. But I feel as if Angel's holding my hand every step of the way. He whispers to me in the breeze, he touches me in the rain, he smiles at me in the sun. I can feel him everywhere-now that I've looked out. I'm realizing-although it hurts like hell-that he's not going to come back, and that no amount of anger or brooding is going to change that. But every time I manage to get out of bed in the morning, and walk down the street with my pockets full of benefactoral funds, I can feel him, pushing me forward every step of the day.
"Angel steered Mimi back to life. I can't say I wasn't upset. Hell, I was pissed off beyond belief. I hated Mimi and Roger for a while. But now Angel's steering me back to life too. I had masked happiness for a week or so, right before Mimi had had her brush with death. But that just made me feel worse. Now, its like a shadow being lifted from my soul. The sunshine is bright, and it's warmer than I've ever known it to be.
"I'm not saying I'm happy now. I'm not. I cry almost every night. Silently, but it still hurts to reach out in the bed I'm sleeping in and feel only sheets. I miss him so much...and almost every morning I fight a war to make myself get out of bed. Some days, I lose, and stay in there for a while-emotionally too worn to try and get up. On those days, I could almost feel Angel laying beside me, head rested on my chest, sobbing at my defeat. It is those days that I wish to die, just to close my eyes and never open them to the harsh light again. However, most other days I manage to get out of bed and pull on clothes. And those days I could almost feel Angel's smile, satisfied and warm, as he nuzzles at my cheek as he was wont to do. It is those days that I know I'll pull through, that I'll manage to live my live for Angel.
"Angel gave me so much. He gave me trust, he gave me happiness, he gave me insight, he gave me the want to give, he gave me love.
"And even though Angel Dumott Schunard is no longer here with me, I know that he's watching somewhere from Heaven. That the rain is his tears, his way of showing me that he still thinks of me, still misses me, in the golden gates that wait at the end of Jacob's Ladder. Yet the sun is his smile, as he laughs with joy when I manage to walk a step forward into the life that I want, and that I'll live. Angel has given me the most important thing in a person's life-no matter what anyone else says.
"A reason to live."
Tears streamed down his face as he quickly folded his paper and sat down. Mark rubbed his shoulder, Maureen kissed his cheek. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps could be heard behind him.
"That was a really good speech." The vodka voice was husky, and accented heavily. Collins turned around and saw the slim figure of Sasha standing in back of him, accompanied by an assortment of well-dressed drag queens. Angel's exotic group of transvestite friends.
"Thanks."
"Yanno, I never thought I'd actually admit this, but you're not as bad as we all thought."
"What?"
Darkly painted lips curved upward in half a smile as Sasha extended a hand.
"I'm Sasha Fermot, and I'm willing to forgive you for taking away the second best drag queen in our group. Angel had always sorta wanted us to like you. I...guess we didn't really want to. But we figured now, from your speech, that you really did take care of my Angel."
The way he said it, "my Angel" made Collins wonder exactly what he meant. Then he remembered all the times Angel had smiled and talked about Sasha. Sasha taking care of him. Sasha cleaning up after his thoughtless messes. Sasha taking him under his wing in the cold, unfeeling downtown NYC. In a moment, Tom understood.
"I'm Tom Collins. It's nice to meet you as well. You know, Angel talked a lot about you all."
A murmur of acknowledgment swept over the drag queen group as another one stepped forward: Shelby, Sasha's lover and devoted apprentice.
"I'm Shelby Kingson. Hi."
The bright smile was hard to resist, and dispite himself, Collins let a small smile creep upon his own face. One by one each of the crossdressers introduced themselves, before Sasha finally spun around, motioning for them to follow him. A few words were tossed over his shoulder back at Collins.
"You take care of yourself Collins. And that speech really was great. Bye." The band disappeared from view. Mark, Roger, Mimi, Maureen, Joanne, and Collins all watched after them.
Slowly, Collins looked up and let his eyes focus on the sky. Through the thick canopy of gray clouds...a small ray of sunlight shined through, and landed directly on Angel's tombstone.
A reason to live....