![]() There will be the sweater you thought you lost the previous year at the theater, clean and folded and back on its shelf. Then there are the things, if you are particularly lucky, that this person has done for you while you're away: how in the pantry, in the freezer, in the refrigerator will be all the food you like to eat, the scotch you like to drink. Willem had always supported this organization, and he told Max that although he would be pleased to present an award or sponsor a table-as he had every year for the past decade-he wouldn't come out, because he didn't believe there was anything to come out of: he wasn't gay.Īnd, of course, there is the person you come back to: his face and body and voice and scent and touch, his way of waiting until you finish whatever you're saying, no matter how lengthy, before he speaks, the way his smile moves so slowly across his face that it reminds you of moonrise, how clearly he has missed you and how clearly happy he is to have you back. A year or so ago he had gone to dinner with a director named Max whom he'd known for many years, and over dinner Max had tried to get him to give a speech at a gala dinner benefiting a gay-rights organization at which he would announce himself as gay. But with a single revelation, he had now become a gay man a gay actor a high-profile gay actor a high-profile, nonparticipating gay actor and, finally, a high-profile traitorous gay actor. For much of his adult life, he had been placed in circumstances that required the shedding of selves: no longer was he a brother no longer was he a son. But if he was allowed to be the same actor, he was not allowed to be the same person, and in the months after he was declared gay-and never refuted it he didn't have a publicist to issue these sorts of denials and avowals-he found himself in possession of more identities than he'd had in a very long time.
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