Archie defends himself. “I have to watch my calories—”
“You already don’t drink. Half the calories in the British diet come from the pubs. I’m telling you, the human psyche needsflavor.”
Archie laughs. “The boys like me ripped, I like the boys to like me, and trust me, I enjoy boys ofeveryflavor.”
“That’ll be enough of that now.” Lily puts a protective arm around me. “We have a young innocent in our midst.”
“As if I wasn’t thinking far worse at his age.” Archie rolls his eyes. “All my teenage thoughts were of boys. I never dreamed I would live in a world where I could be with one. Besides, I’ve had this body since I was a teenager. I blame the boarding school crew team for my unhealthy obsession with looking healthy.” I gaze at Archie curiously. He must come from wealth and privilege. I wonder if his posh parents know where he is. Is he still a son to them? “Now let’s go see if we can’t get you a better job.”
Lily follows Archie to the back of the club. I gaze over at George and Marilyn. They giggle about something or other. George looks at me. “Go have some fun, kid. What are you standing with us for?”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
“Don’t worry, Rusty won’t play Petula Clark forever.” Marilyn laughs.
George talks as he checks a man’s ruffled coat. “The beauty of Rusty is he’ll play Bowie, Kraftwerk, Roxy Music, but then he’ll throw in something so unexpected, so square, that you can’t help but reassess it.”
I stroll over to the small dance floor. Throngs of assembled freaks sing along with Petula.Don’t sleep in the subway, darling.I join the sing-along.Don’t stand in the pouring rain, we sing. We raise our arms up. We belt the words. We’re proud of sleeping in subways. In squats. Wherever we might find a place to rest before another night of dancing. All these queers. Claiming a piece of the city as our own. We’ll sleep where we want. Be whoever we want. Look however we want. It’s a powerful feeling. Dancing and singing alongside people who have suffered the same rejections.
The song ends. A new one begins. Roxy Music. “The Thrill of It All.” Lily and Archie dance in a corner. Archie spins her. I can see the details of Lily’s dress in the light. Multicolored patchwork.Dazzling. The dress is so long that you can barely see her heels. The sleeves even longer. Her lips are a rust color. Her lashes glitter in the light. Like she’s layered them in diamond dust. Archie wears nothing but a leather vest and tight denim shorts. A hint of jockstrap. A burst of friendship as they laugh.
I wish Oliver were here. Every smile here is beautiful. But none are his. The song feels like it’s about us.Everywhere I look. I see your face.Perhaps every song is about us. Every word ever written about us.Though you’ve gone. Still I recall. The thrill of it all.
Lily drags Archie to my side. “So what do you think of the Blitz, kid?” She fixes my hair as she asks the question.
“It’s incredible. Like what utopia might look like.”
She laughs. “I don’t know about that, kid. Needs more melanin. Lots of colorful clothes. Not enough colorful faces.”
Archie nods in agreement. “Also strange that it’s named after that wretched bombed-out period when people supposedly came together as one.”
Lily quickly jumps in. “Which of course they didn’t.”
“I saidsupposedly. I know true unity is a myth.”
Lily sighs. “A beautiful myth, perhaps even a necessary one.”
Would Oliver agree? Does he believe humans can ever come together as one?
From his booth, the DJ announces a band is about to play. “They played their first gig over a month ago right here at the Blitz. Give it up for Spandau Ballet!”
Five costumed men take the stage. They wear jumpsuits. Skirts. Plaid. Ruffles. They begin to play jangly music that feels both dark and light at the same time. The lead singer wears an Elizabethan dress. It brings me back to that night when we all attended the masquerade ball decades ago. Who was it who wore an Elizabethandress that Jack stole from the theater closet? Was it Brendan or Cyril? Some details come back so clearly. Others fade. The lead singer’s transportive croon seems to exist in a realm beyond time. His voice feels like the past. His lyrics speak directly to the present.Oh, look at the strange boy.He finds it hard existing. To cut a long story short, I lost my mind.
Archie applauds loudly when the band’s set ends. “The music is fantastic, but why must they be called Spandau Ballet? It’s so depressing.”
I ask Archie what the band name means.
Lily’s the one who explains. “Supposedly, they got the name from something scribbled on a bathroom stall in Berlin. From what I understand, a Spandau Ballet was a term coined to describe Nazi prisoners jerking about while being hanged at Spandau prison.”
“Well, theywereNazis. But I still don’t love having to think of men being hanged. It’s gruesome. No one should be tortured.” There’s pain in Archie’s voice as he says this. A raw vulnerability barely hiding beneath his brawny surface.
“The club is called the Blitz. The band is named after Nazis. I guess this country is still reeling from the ghosts of the world war.” Lily sighs. “Of course, this country also takes all the credit for ending the war. As if we Jamaicans didn’t provide safe haven for countless Europeans. And the biggest military contingent from the Caribbean.”
“I’m sorry I got us onto politics.” Archie turns to me. “This place should be a refuge from all that.”
Lily takes my hand in hers. “Let’s go for curry. I’m starving and I don’t want to see these queens get sloppy.” It’s then that I notice that—unlike the majority of the blitzed crowd—neither Lily nor Archie had anything but water to drink.
We go for curry. Followed by ice cream. Archie pays for dinner. Lily for dessert. It feels like we’re a traditional family. Mother. Father. Son. Out for a family meal. We couldn’t look more mismatched as any kind of wholesome ideal. Lily with her black skin and riotous fashion. Archie with his bulging muscles and barely there gay uniform.
