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Re: Met Someone?

To: David Callas ([email protected])

From: August Van Helsing ([email protected])

Date: January 20, 10:10 PM

D—

There was a moment that passed without my awareness, I realize now—a moment when I came to believe that the way things were would be the way they stayed, in most of the generalities: my job, my home, my lifestyle. I can’t say exactly when that moment was, but suddenly I find myself questioning the things I hadn’t known I’d begun assuming were the constants of my life. I met a man who, from the first moment I saw him, swelled to fill my field of vision in a way that only one other person has ever done. (You, in case that wasn’t clear, my humble friend.)

His name is Arthur Quincey and I…I am at rather a loss to explain my feelings for him. He is aggressive, irritating, capricious, and…so damned alive. He’s incredibly intelligent, but uses his intelligence to make people underestimate him. He’s kind and giving, but couches his generosity in impatience so those receiving it never feel beholden. His aggression is mostly bravado; the bravado of one who is confident in his ability to appear untouchable and afraid that it isn’t true. His caprice is…delicious.

And he’s beautiful. You know better than most how little I care about beauty, but I find myself fascinated just watching expressions play over his features. He has sparkling blue eyes and light brown hair and the kind of smile that makes me feel singled out in all the universe for his esteem. You would loathe the way he dresses—perfectly put together—but I find myself charmed by the effort he feels he needs to exert to move through the world without friction. I wonder, if this turned to something real, would he ever let that guard down? Would I see him dressed casually at home? Would my ardor imbue him with the confidence to eschew such efforts, or are they solely for his own enjoyment. I want to find out.

I’m… I think there is a chance I will become rather smitten, David. Something about the man just calls to me. But you know me: “allergic to frivolity,” as you used to say. Arthur isn’t frivolous—not nearly so frivolous as he imagines himself to be, in any case. But he is only 28, so his entire disposition is intrinsically more frivolous than mine could ever be. Is it absurd to think that this beautiful man could care for me? Could care for me as more (I should clarify) than an authority figure kink, a professor-student role play, or some kind of daddy? Am I in over my head? Advise me, David, as only you can. Is taking this any further tantamount to laying my heart on the platter of a connoisseur, only to be sampled and then tossed aside for the next tender morsel?

In other news, the provenance of our meeting is an odd tale in and of itself. You recall my student, Harker? His sister (and friend of Arthur) is concerned that his recent absence might be sinister. It was she to whom I extended my help; Arthur was the sweetest surprise. He reminds me a bit of us, David—Harker, that is, not Arthur; he couldn’t be less like us. Harker’s single-minded dedication to his research, and his solitude… How easily we could have been him, David, had we not found one another. I know I have said it times beyond counting, but whatever would I have done without you, my friend? I don’t like to think on it.

And so I have involved myself in this little group, for better or for worse, because Harker might be in danger. Jillian would say that I am seeking to rescue myself retroactively, would she not? To heal the wounds of the past by sparing someone from them in the present. Whyever I may have begun my involvement, I know that I am continuing it in the hopes that perhaps this…spark between Arthur and myself is not extinguished.

The truth, please, David, as only you can deliver it: is there hope for me here? Or should I be ashamed to dream of it?

Will I see you for the FSA Meeting in June? Did you hear back about your article?

Whatever happened with your friend whose mother was ailing?

My love to Ang, and always, always to you,

Gus

_____

Dr. A. Van Helsing

Department of Anthropology

Tulane University

Email

Re: Met Someone?

To: August Van Helsing ([email protected])

From: David Callas ([email protected])

Date: January 21, 9:58 PM

Oh, Gus. Of course you shouldn’t be ashamed to dream of love (Because though you do not use the word, that is the question, isn’t it? Should you give up on love?). Age is nothing but what you make of it. If you work, you work; there is no accounting for these things, as you know.

Your description of Arthur, though…consider my curiosity officially piqued! He sounds, frankly, like exactly what you need. Someone vivacious and bratty enough to crack your shell, but kind enough to make of it a controlled demolition. Gus, Gus, Gus, I think you need this. And, at the risk of rehashing a dynamic that needs no rehashing: you may not explicitly wish for professor-student role play, but don’t think I forget that you are in your element when you are unyielding. I still shiver at the things your voice can do in its lower registers. And you can tell your young man I said so, as he sounds the type to rise to the bait of jealousy in a delicious way.

I think often, as clearly do you, of what I might have been if we had never met. I’m glad you’re helping Harker’s sister and friends, though of course I hope it all comes to naught and he is fine. Either way, I believe you owe it to yourself to take a chance and see where things could go with Arthur. And I believe you owe it to me, frankly, to fuck him and send me all the steamy details. I shall read them to Ang in bed and it will be just like old times, yes? Kidding, of course, but he says hello and, naturally, he agrees with me that you should, as he put it, take a chance on love.

Much of mine to you, Gus,

D.