Prayers for Bobby - Leroy Aarons [53]
But he rarely felt that way. Usually he felt his life rocketing out of control. He preserved a measure of sanity by attempting to minimize exposure, to conceal his real self. He compartmentalized his world. For example, Dora and Justin knew nothing of his home life, except that it was off-limits to them. Nor did they know of his friendship with Diane and Alice at work, and vice versa. At home as well he grew ever more secretive. No one was told details of the seediest part of his routine.
Thus he moved from milieu to milieu—from work to home to Rocky Horror to the gym to gay night at a roller rink in Hayward to the flesh palaces of San Francisco to, in the fall of 1982, Diablo Valley College as a part-time student—rarely connecting them, maintaining a fractured identity as a form of self-protection.
For the most part I’m a pretty invisible entity on this planet. I like being able to walk around and sort of blend into the wallpaper. People tend to leave you alone, which is nice most of the time…. Being introverted has its rewards. People sort of regard you as mysterious somehow when you don’t go around opening your mouth all the time.
On June 24, his nineteenth birthday, he wrote:
Nineteen and nowhere. That’s not true. It’s just that I’m not where I think I should be, which is not very clear in my mind at the moment…. This washed out faded sort of feeling has been following me forever. When will it leave me alone?
Two days later he informed his diary without explanation that he had left the job at CalFrame.
The next day was Gay Pride and Freedom Day. Tens of thousands marched in San Francisco. Bobby made no mention of it in his diary, and there is no reason to believe he attended. He drew little pride from his gay status.
A week later he enjoyed an idyllic Fourth of July weekend at his Aunt Jean’s house in Chico, northeast of Sacramento. His favorite cousin, Jeanette, was down from Oregon, and it is evident from Bobby’s diary that Jeanette had at some point revealed to Bobby that she was a lesbian: “Jeanette and I entertained ourselves by reading filthy magazines at various liquor stores. (Dikes [sic] in particular.) We also jogged to Bid-well Park. I love Jeanette. It was hard to say good-bye.” (Jeanette wrote him immediately expressing her great affection: “Would I surprise you if I told you I love you? You’ve become very special for me and I care about you…. Be happy my peach blossom, my daffodil, my geranium, my ice plant.”)
The same week, Bobby disclosed to his journal a new and shadowy moneymaking scheme: “Tomorrow I have an appointment for a modeling job in San Francisco. It’s the kind of modeling where you do more than stand in front of the camera, if you get my drift.”
Six days later he gave a further hint:
I’m realizing that the only people who appreciate decent young boys are old ladies and that only gets me $3.50 an hour to dust the crystal and polish the silver [casual labor he did for a woman acquaintance]. So, I’ve got to try something new and a little more indecent if you’ll pardon the implications.
On Wednesday, July 15:
I got that modeling job I told you about…. I’m terrified because I have no idea what I’m getting into. I’ll be making a lot of money though. I’m really scared.
On Sunday, he laid it all out.
In 3 days I made $200—the easy way. Being a prostitute (whore, call-boy, whatever you want to use) is hard to describe in a few lines. I could write a whole book and it’s only been 3 days.
First of all, I don’t feel any different really, than I did a week ago. Just richer. It’s very flattering, because first of all you’re getting paid and you’re constantly being told how beautiful, gorgeous, pretty, fantastic, etc. etc. you are. I pretend I’m playing a whore in an old movie and that makes it a lot easier, because then it’s really not happening to me…What I like most is being told how pretty I am…. I’m not going