DATE WRITTEN: March 11th, 2004
I anxiously tap my fingers against the kitchen table as I hold the
phone to my ear and listen to it ring on the other end of the line.
It's the third time that I've called Orli in the last hour, and if he
doesn't pick up his cell phone this time, I might just jump out
of my skin. I need to talk to him. Right now.
"Hello?" A very breathless, very familiar voice makes me smile with
relief.
"Hi, baby."
"Vig!" I can't help but smile at how happy he sounds to hear from me.
"My God, it's so great to hear your voice."
"It is? Did you have a bad day?" A sudden spark of concern for my
boyfriend flares up inside of me. I know how grueling working with
Ridley can be, and I hope that Orli's not feeling too stressed.
Especially since he was stressed before he even started filming.
"No, actually. It was a really nice day. A lot of riding, which means
that I'm a bit sore. I wish you were here to give me a
massage."
"What, those on-set masseurs don't make the grade?" I laugh.
"They can't compare to your hands," he says, a husky note creeping into
his voice. Damn. It sounds like Orli is gearing up for some
long-distance lust. Too bad that's not the reason why I called him.
"Um, Orli?"
"Hmm?"
"Have you seen the news at all today? Do you get CNN where you are?"
There's a silence at the other end of the line. "Is the media bashing
on us again? Christ, you think they'd have moved on by
now!" He's gone from sounding aroused to angry in two seconds flat.
"Calm down, love. We're not making any news right now."
"Then what's going on?"
"Well, something major happened today in the gay rights movement."
"Really? Something good?"
"Something potentially good. It pretty much came out of nowhere."
"Okay, *what* came out of nowhere?" he asks impatiently.
"The city of San Francisco started marrying same-sex couples today."
"Are you serious?!" Orli exclaims.
"I'm completely serious."
"But . . . I thought that gay marriage wasn't legal in America."
"It's not. The mayor who's issuing the marriage licenses is technically
breaking the law," I explain. "But there were still dozens of couples
who got married today."
"That's unbelievable," he says, the awe evident in his voice. "Do you
think that this is the first step towards legalizing gay marriage?"
"I have no clue," I tell him honestly. "It's an incredibly polarizing
issue, and it's clear that the President doesn't want gays to have the
right to marry. There are a lot of people who don't want the concept of
equal rights to extend to gays and lesbians."
"That's putting it mildly," Orli mutters, bitterness tainting his voice.
"Look, we'll see what happens. I'm sure that tomorrow there will be
people protesting the gay marriages and trying to get them
stopped. And maybe they'll succeed in putting an end to this, and
it will have all been for naught. But maybe this will keep going and
spread to other cities, and people will have to face the fact that gays
and lesbians want equal rights in *every* area of life. It could be a
major breakthrough."
"It could be. But judging from some of the attitudes we've seen in the
few weeks, I wouldn't start registering for china just yet."
"Hey," I say gently, "don't be so negative."
"I'm sorry, but I can't help it. It's not easy to be cheery and
optimistic after being savaged by the press for something so simple as
loving your boyfriend to pieces."
"I know," I sigh.
"Maybe it's actually a good thing that I'm here," he says suddenly. "I
think that being so far removed from all of the media hype is helping
me a lot. I can just concentrate on the film and not have to deal with
the crap that was stressing me out before I left. But I still miss you
so much." There's a wistful sigh that punctuates Orli's sentiment.
"I miss you, too." My voice is just above a whisper as my chest
suddenly feels tight with loneliness. "I can't wait until you come
home, even if it's just for a day. Thank God Ridley's letting you
attend the Oscars."
"Yeah, well I told him that he could either let me fly back to Los
Angeles for the Oscars, or he would have to deal with an incredibly
horny leading man until you come to visit the set in March."
"You did not say that!" I laugh.
"No, I didn't," he admits.
"I love you," I say suddenly.
Orli chuckles. "Oh, Viggo."
"What? It's funny that I love you?" I ask indignantly.
"No. It's wonderful that you love me. I love you, too."
"Good. Now that we've gotten that out of the way . . ."
"Yes?"
"You were saying something before about missing my hands?"
A low laugh carries over the phone line. "You're a dirty old man."
"You brought it up first," I point out as I stand up with the cordless
phone and start walking to the bedroom.
"So I did. Let's see, I should pick an imaginary massage oil," Orli
reasons.
I flop down on our bed with a smile. This should be fun.
*****
"Here you go. Dinner is served," I proclaim, putting down a carton of
take-out food in front of Henry.
"Thanks, Dad," he says with a roll of his eyes. "You worked really hard
on this meal, huh?"
"For the last time, I'm sorry that I forgot to do the grocery shopping."
"Honestly, sometimes I think your head isn't attached to your body," he
snorts.
"Just be glad we're not in New Zealand. I'd go hunting for roadkill
again," I tease my son.
"Dad! That's so gross!"
"I thought teenaged boys weren't supposed to be squeamish about things
like that."
"Yeah, well this one is. I can't help it if my dad is a freak who eats
everything he comes across," he taunts.
"Like you're the picture of sanity?"
"Okay, so we're both nuts. But at least I know where I got it from."
He has a point. We stop bantering and enjoy our Thai food in silence
for a few minutes, before Henry puts his food down and stares at me
intently. Slightly unnerved, I swallow my mouthful of noodles and raise
my eyebrows. "What?" I ask. "Do I have food between my teeth?"
"No."
"So what's going on?"
"Are you going to marry Orli in San Francisco?"
It's a good thing that I don't have food in my mouth, because I'd
probably choke on it right about now. "Am I what?"
"You heard me."
"No, Henry. Orli and I aren't getting married."
"Why not?" He sounds disappointed, which is something I wasn't
expecting. Actually, I wasn't expecting his question in the first
place, so I wasn't really sure what his reaction would be. But this
*is* something I've thought about.
"Because if we go to San Francisco and get married there, the media
will have a field day. You know how I can't even go to get the
newspaper without the paparazzi getting a picture?" Henry nods. "Well,
imagine the press coverage if Orli and I went and said our wedding vows
in an incredibly public place surrounded by television cameras."
"But aren't you used to the media stuff by now?"
"I don't think I'll ever really be used to it," I tell him truthfully.
"Okay, but maybe you could get married in a private room."
I sigh. "Henry . . ."
"What?"
"You have to understand that what's going on in San Francisco right now
isn't actually legal."
"Nobody would send you and Orli to jail, Dad."
"Of course not. But it would put us in the middle of a political
firestorm."
"And since when have you ever shied away from speaking out on issues
that you care about?" Henry challenges.
"This isn't just any issue, it's a gay rights issue. I don't want to be
a pawn of either side of this debate, which is exactly what would
happen if Orli and I were to go to San Francisco. I have enough to deal
with right now without having to explain my position on gay marriage to
every single media outlet on the planet."
My son's shoulders sag in defeat. "Fine."
"Henry, what's wrong?" I ask with concern.
"Nothing."
"You know that Orli and I are totally committed to each other, don't
you?"
"Of course I do. That's not why I'm raising the marriage issue."
"Then what's really bothering you?"
He hesitates for a moment before meeting my eyes with an intense gaze.
"I want you to do something. To speak out. To stop taking all the shit
that's being hurled at you and Orli."
My heart sinks. Henry has seemed to handle all of this incredibly well,
but maybe that's just a facade. "Are you having a hard time with all of
this?" I venture nervously. "I mean, more so than–"
"Dad, it's not about me!" he exclaims. "People are calling you and Orli
names all over the TV and the Internet! They're saying your movies
should be boycotted and that you shouldn't play straight characters!
For fuck's sake, you guys have even gotten hate mail! Aren't you
furious?"
I'm stunned speechless by Henry's outburst. He only loses his composure
when he's extremely upset. I impulsively stretch across the table and
give him an awkward hug, which he returns by clinging to me tightly;
the uncomfortable position that we're in forces us to separate, and I
try to think of what to say so I can assuage his
worries.
"Yes, I get furious when I see those assholes on TV who feel that they
have a right to judge us," I tell him. "I'm upset about all the
homophobia in society and how it's reared its ugly head in the wake of
Orli and me coming out. But I feel as if stepping into the spotlight
and firing right back at the people who are attacking us won't do any
good. All it will do is bring on more publicity, more people who want
to criticize us, and it'll get even worse."
"So you'll just let those pricks attack you?" he asks disbelievingly.
"Without any repercussions? How can you do that?"
"Because I'm not going to stoop to their level and attack them right
back. That isn't the solution, Henry."
"What *is* the solution?"
"Going on with our lives. Showing those pricks, as you call them, that
they can't stop me and Orli from loving each other, no matter how many
insults they hurl at us."
A smile comes across Henry's face, the first one that I've seen since
we started talking about this subject. "I guess that sounds
like a pretty good plan."
"Yeah? It meets with your approval, o mighty King Henry?"
He lobs a chopstick at me and laughs. "As Orli would say, sod off."
I laugh along with him. "Careful with the projectile eating
implements," I warn, tossing the chopstick back at him.
"Sorry," he snickers. We share a long smile together before he affects
a serious expression again. "So do I have to worry about you? Or are
you okay? I mean, I know how insane this has been, and I just want to
make sure that you know I'm here if you need to talk. Even though I'm
just a kid–"
"You're not 'just a kid'; you're an amazing person. And I know that I
can come to you if I need somebody to talk to."
Henry beams. "Good. Just so you know, I've already told Orli that *he*
can come talk to me also. I'm here for both of you."
How much do I love my son? I guess that's a rhetorical, unanswerable
question. "You're the best," I say simply.
"I know," he teases. "I must have learned it from you."
*****
The wine I'm drinking – in moderation – soothes my loneliness as I
stand on the back patio of Sean and Christine's house. The Academy
Awards are several days away, and Orli will be flying home to attend
the awards ceremony soon. Many of my friends are gathered inside as
Sean's birthday party winds down, but I wanted a few minutes to myself
and slipped outside. I'm so lost in my own introspection that I fail to
hear the screen door open behind me.
"I thought I'd find you out here." I whirl around at the sound of Ian's
voice. "Tired of the party scene?" he asks.
"Not really. I just wanted a bit of time alone."
"Ah, and that's difficult to find with hobbits bouncing everywhere," he
chuckles, coming to stand next to me. I have a brief flashback to
filming the scene in The Two Towers where Aragorn and Gandalf have a
discussion before reaching Edoras, then shake my head and clear the
memory.
"Am I missing anything inside?"
"Nothing earth-shattering. I'm sure that Christine's glad her daughters
are with their grandmother for the night, especially since Sean is
drinking as much as anyone else."
I laugh. "Good for him. It's his birthday, after all."
"Indeed."
There's a pleasant silence for a moment before Ian places a hand on my
shoulder and smiles. "Viggo, I wanted to talk to you about something."
"What?" Usually, people don't smile when they say that.
"I want you to know how proud I am of you."
"Ian . . ." I blush, feeling unworthy of his kind words.
"Seriously, let me say this," he orders. "I know how difficult it was
for you to come out; we all know how frightening it was for you. And
you defeated that fear for the good of your relationship with Orlando
and for your own welfare. That says a tremendous amount about who you
are."
"I just wanted to make him happy," I say.
"Oh, hush. It was a thing of great courage for you to do."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. One more thing – you have done a splendid job of
handling all of the out-of-control media attention that's been lavished
upon you and Orli. It wasn't easy for me when I came out, and I
received about one percent of the attention that you two have gotten."
"It hasn't been easy," I admit. "Sometimes I feel as if we're exhibits
in a museum or a zoo instead of human beings."
"Not a very pleasant feeling, I'm imagining."
"No, not really. It's been harder on Orli than on me."
"Is that so?" Ian's eyebrows go up in surprise. "I talked to him last
week and he seemed to be frustrated with the attention but dealing with
it very well."
"He's dealing with it just fine, but it was all much more than he was
expecting," I confide.
"I see. Were you prepared for it?"
"Well, I'm not sure anyone can ever be prepared for this. But I knew
what we were in for. He was a bit more . . . idealistic about how our
Outing would be received. The name-calling and the hateful letters
really shocked him; he didn't think that some people would have such a
vitriolic reaction to something so simple as the fact
that we're together."
"That sounds like Orli."
I nod. "And we were kind of thrown for a loop by this whole gay
marriage controversy. Suddenly, we've become the poster children for
the entire gay rights movement and everybody wants to know our position
on the issue. Even Henry suggested that maybe we should go to San
Francisco and get married as a way of taking a stand against our
critics."
Ian chuckles. "What did you say to that?"
"I told him that it would just invite more attention, and enough of it
would be negative to not make it worth the trouble."
"But you two *did* release a statement about gay marriage."
"We had to," I sigh. "Everybody was hounding us about it. And like it
or not, we're probably the most visible gay couple in the world. With
an issue like this, we knew that if we didn't comment on it, the media
would just never leave us alone. We had Orli's publicist release the
statement on Monday."
"So you're for gay marriage?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't we be?" I ask with a frown.
"Would you marry Orli if it were legal?" Ian's eyes sparkle
mischievously.
"Unfair question," I grumble.
"Well?"
"What do you think? I've already said that I'm spending the rest of my
life with him a hundred times over. But I wouldn't marry him for
political purposes; I'd do it because it was what I thought was best
for us." I shake my head. "Besides, it's not even a legal option for us
right now. Not to mention that he's several thousand miles away."
"He'll be here soon enough," Ian reminds me.
"I know," I say with a smile.
"Excited to see him?" he teases.
I beam. "You know that I can't wait."
Heart
and Shoulder Part 8
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Viggorli
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