The Lost Language of Cranes by David Leavitt Read Free Book Online Page A

who wrote all those children's books—and his lover."
    Philip knew. "Wow," he said. "I read all those books. My mother brought them home. She was his copy editor for a while."
    "No shit. Well, you've got a great opening line. Apparently his parents—his natural parents—were important Jewish intellectuals or something. And rich, because he has a trust fund. Derek Moulthorp and his lover were their best friends. Anyway, he's a really terrific guy, and the minute I met him, I thought of you. So—can you come?"
    "Well," Philip said, and changed his mind. "Sure," he said. Then, cautiously: "I didn't know Derek Moulthorp was gay." .
    "Philip!" Sally said. "Everyone knows that."
    Philip was quiet. "You know, of course, what I'm wondering," he said.
    "Yes, and I don't think it matters. I think what matters is that Eliot's a terrific guy, and that he's apparently benefitted from a terrific upbringing. And he wears the best socks. You'll love his socks. He collects them—incredible colors, weird patterns.
    At this party last week he had some on that he was showing everybody—they had what looked like little root beer floats on them."
    "Really."
    "I don't know where he finds them. Anyway—can you be there?"
    "How could I miss it?" Philip said.
    But a few nights later, when he walked into Sally's apartment, he almost turned around and went out again. The room was fall of distant familiar faces he hadn't seen in years. There was Joshua Treadwell, and Connie Moss, and Chris Fletcher, and a host of other people he had spent most of his time in college avoiding. Indeed, the only person he saw whom he knew and liked was Brad Robinson, who had been his friend in the Gay and Lesbian Campus Coalition. They waved to each other across the room, and then Sally ran up to him, smiling. "Philip," she said, "I'm glad you came. Come meet Eliot."
    Then, from behind some plants near the sofa, where he stood admiring her view of the Hudson, she beckoned a tall young man with curly dark hair, a cigarette in his hand. Philip's eyes widened, and Eliot threw him a smile so intense and unwavering he had to turn from it.
    He was standing with Eliot, close enough that the tendrils of wool on their sweaters were touching (a delicious, barely perceptible sensation). They looked each other in the eye. Eliot's were framed by round gold glasses. Philip's mouth was open and words were coming out of it, though he hardly knew what they were, and he had to fight to bring each sentence to the end. He felt as if something was blooming in him—a flower, a fire, a possibility that moment by moment became, unbelievably, more real, as they kept smiling, as Eliot did not stop staring straight into Philip's eyes. For the first time in his life there seemed no doubt. The answer was yes.
    "Sally tells me you work in publishing," Eliot said. A slight shifting of the knees. Eyes unwavering. Philip was relying completely on peripheral vision to make out the tuft of hair emerging from Eliot's collar, the clean, close-cropped fingernails, all the tiny, erotic details.
    "Well, actually I work for what's called a packaging company," Philip said. "We're in the romance field. What I do is edit and rewrite these terrible novels—all about desert islands, pirate ships, cruise ships; the line's called Wavecrest Books. Right now, l or instance, I'm working on Tides of Flame , which is all about how hardy and tempestuous Sylvia falls in love with evil Captain Dick Tolliver."
    Eliot laughed, and Philip was relieved.
    "Are you living uptown too?”
    "More uptown than this—105th Street, off Amsterdam.How about you?"
    "I live in the East Village."
    "How's the rent down there?"
    "Mine isn't bad. I was lucky."
    "Do you have a lease, or is it a sublet?"
    "Oh no, it's my lease."
    "That's great."
    "Uh-huh."
    Then there was nothing else to say. They stood there, not looking away. Philip was studying Eliot's eyes. They were dark, almost black, but when he looked at them closely he could see