Behind Closed Doors

Chapter Thirty-two

After that moment when they had parted at the police station, Phoenix knew that there was an unspoken quarrel between him and Henry; that something had happened to make the guy recoil from him as if he was the carrier of some loathsome disease. And then Henry had ceased all contact with him, and there were no more meetings or lunches. Henry withdrew totally.

But he was not in the least bothered by this, because he had his work to face. He spent very long hours going over the scripts that were heaped on him, reading through them over and over again so he could separate the wheat from the chaff. There were endless rehearsals and meetings with directors; the endless photo shoots he made for different organizations; the interviews and TV shows he was paid for, and the interviews.

Throughout 2003 he worked like a slave on all he did, a perfectionist who wanted only the best because he could not withstand whatever criticism that came from the critics. His friends all told him of how they wished his success on themselves, but he merely laughed, refraining from telling them that his work had robbed him of his humanity. By garnering success he had sold his privacy, the core part of him that was valued above all else, and it was as much a burden as it was a glory that he was recognized everywhere he went. His popularity, coupled with his cursed effeminacy which he could not grow out of like so many of the other effeminate guys he had met during his beginning years had done, was both his blessing and his curse, the sheer horror of his being T. O. Phoenix.

He received anonymous calls so frequently, of guys who told him in their broken English that they wanted to fuck him, and some that said nothing at all; some spoke very proper English. Once he answered the call and while trying to get the person on the other line to speak, he heard that low, deep moan that was a telltale indicator of some having sex. In sheer horror he’d hung up. He developed a morbid fear of answering his phone after that.

Lawrence was livid. ‘Don’t be stupid! It means that they all want you, and so what? You are easily the most beautiful guy around, and since they can’t see you, they might as well indulge their fantasies over the phone. Besides, many of these men do not identify as homo; they are curious and are too ashamed to say what they want.’

‘I don’t need their attention!’ Phoenix hissed, anger welling up within him, threatening to choke him up. ‘It is bad enough that God had created me to be a freak of nature－’

‘You are not a freak of nature,’ Lawrence said, and there was a look of pure shock on his face at the actor’s self-deprecation of himself. ‘Whatever made you to have that stupid idea of what you are?’

‘Do the birds fly?’ Phoenix asked rhetorically in a voice that lacked strength. ‘Does a man have a penis? Does a woman have breasts? Is a man supposed to look and act like a woman? We can go on with the list if you wish, but don’t insult my intelligence and tell me that I am not some freak to some people. Even my own brother hated me.’

‘So what if he had hated you! So what if a few twisted bastards think you’re some freak?’

Phoenix stared at his closest friend coldly, his lips compressed in a grim line. ‘Those few morons of yours hate me so much that I want to get a rope, loop the thing around my neck, and pull it tight. I get these contemptuous stares from people when I go out, and I really hate myself for the way I am, and it makes me to loathe myself and wish for the fact that perhaps death will be the better option for me.’

Lawrence’s features became twisted, the bones and the muscles of his face almost caving in on themselves. ‘That’s very sad, but you’ve got to understand the fact that there are those that still care for you. Henry is still there for you.’
‘No he’s not,’ Phoenix said bitterly. ‘The bastard chose to pull away from me. I remember the fact that one day, someone had told me that I was a very destructive force waiting to destroy everything that came my way; perhaps they’re right. And I will die first before I ever try to go to Henry again.’