Chapter 9 #2
“You’re going to tell me all sorts of crap about how queer people can never be accepted by anyone. How we’re doomed to live lies or to hide like bugs under rocks.”
“I’m not.” Frank shrugged slightly. “Okay, I might have a few days ago. But I won’t now.”
Carver’s stance softened a bit and he cocked his head. “Why not?”
“I had a little talk with Paul. And then one with Sylvia. And neither of them cares that I like men.”
A hint of a smile played at the corners of Carver’s mouth. “Sylvia has a girlfriend, you know.”
“I know now.” Frank wondered briefly how Carver had obtained that knowledge after only briefly meeting her. She’d been Frank’s coworker for years. Maybe he should have paid better attention.
“So… you accept that something long-term, something real between two men isn’t impossible?”
Well, here was where they got to the difficult part. “In principle, I accept it. I’m just skeptical that it’s possible between us.”
“You don’t feel that way about me? I’m okay as a movie-star crush, and I’m okay for a tumble or two in bed, but for anything more… you want someone real.”
Jesus. “You’re real. I see you, remember? X-Ray Spex eyes. I see who you are. And….” Deep breath. Frank had never said anything like this to anyone. “And I sure as hell like what I see. But I’m not a frog prince, Carver.”
Carver frowned. “I don’t—”
“Your kiss didn’t magically transform me.
Look at me, dammit.” Frank spread his arms. “I’m just a guy who draws cartoons for a living.
I have a bum foot that’s never going to get better and, according to my doctors, will probably get worse as I age.
On my very best days, when I clean up well, I can maybe manage moderately good-looking.
I can’t drink. I’m great at understanding other people’s core beings, but I’m terrible at grasping hints and innuendos.
I don’t have any real skills aside from art.
I work long hours. I’ve been informed I’m one anxiety fit away from becoming a Bouncing Betty.
And I can be an antisocial son-of-a-bitch. ”
That outburst had taken a lot out of Frank, who limped over to his armchair and collapsed into it. If he had been a drinker, he would have downed a double.
A symphony of emotions played across Carver’s face, astonishment being the most obvious. He walked slowly toward Frank and then, also slowly, sat down across Frank’s lap. He settled an arm across Frank’s shoulders and, sighing, leaned their heads together. “I’m the frog, not you.”
Frank snorted.
“Maybe,” Carver said slowly, “it’s okay if we’re both frogs. Look at my namesakes over there—they seem content enough.”
“They eat bugs.”
“My point, Frankie, is that there’s nothing wrong with being a frog. Warts and all. I’m hung up on you exactly as you are. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, because love at first sight exists, bub, and not just in fairy tales. We can make this work.”
A leap of faith was like a leap out of an airplane. You could land perfectly well. Or you could get shot, or drown, or land badly and have to spend the rest of your life with a messed-up foot. “I’m afraid to jump,” Frank whispered.
Carver was quiet for a few moments. “If you don’t jump, I guess you’ll stay safe.
But what will you have to show for it? I’m going to switch metaphors, Frankie-boy.
A couple years back, I was offered a part as a Roman slave.
My agent looked at the script and told me the part would be dangerous for me.
There were hints in the script that the slave sometimes slept with men, and my agent said rumors might start.
Especially since I’ve never let a studio force me into marrying some poor girl. ”
“I can understand that.”
“I saw the script too. It was a good part. One where I could show I’m more than a pretty face.
Where I had more to do than taking my shirt off.
And here’s the thing. Bad consequences could follow if I played that slave.
But if I turned down the part, I might never know if I had it in me to be a great actor. ”
Frank squeezed him. “You did. You do.”
“I know,” Carver said with a grin. “Oscar nomination, remember?”
It should have been hard to think clearly with a lapful of Carver Reed, but that wasn’t the case; Frank could think very well. Maybe see was a better word than think, though, because he could envision the scenarios clearly.
Number one, he remained in the plane. He told Carver to take a hike. That would be safe.
Scenario two, Frank took the leap… and landed badly. He lost his career, his friends, and eventually his lover as well. Ended up broke and broken. And alone.
But scenario three…. Frank pictured letting Carver move into his heart.
They would tell a few close friends, and the friends would welcome them both.
They would find a way to navigate life together.
Hell, maybe someday a lot of people would think that there was nothing wrong with being queer, and couples like Frank and Carver, like Sylvia and Ruth, could live as openly as everyone else.
They could be happy.
“You’re considering jumping, aren’t you?”
Frank startled slightly at Carver’s insight. “Considering is the operative word. It’s scary.”
“I believe that.” Carver managed to snuggle in closer. “What did you say when you jumped out of a plane?”
“‘Oh, fuck.’ But sometimes I skipped the oh.”
Frank took a few deep breaths. He had no equipment requiring last-minute safety checks. No surrounding crowd of anxious young men who knew that some of them would never see another sunset. No roaring engines or biting cold.
Just a man in his lap, the most beautiful, fascinating man he’d ever met, a man who claimed to be in love with him.
“Oh, fuck,” Frank said. He was smiling.
They kissed after that, of course. And when the kissing-plus-groping became so active that they both nearly tumbled out of the chair, they made their way to the bedroom, shedding clothes as they went. And laughing out of pure joy.
They very nearly succeeded in collapsing the bed frame.
Afterward, with tangled limbs, sweaty and replete, they kissed some more. They dozed. They might have taken a full-blown nap if Frank hadn’t suddenly remembered what day it was. “How would you feel about a night or two in Palm Springs?” he asked.
Carver gave a wide smile. “I got the Duesenberg running the other day. I bet she’d enjoy a bit of a run.”
Frank gave the frogs extra bugs and some clean water. “Merry Christmas, guys.” They stared up at him, unimpressed.
And before he knew it, he and Carver were heading east in the gorgeous car, cookie boxes in the back seat and grins on their faces.
Frank’s left hand rested on Carver’s right thigh.
It was a bit like a clichéd movie ending, but Frank knew the truth: this was a beginning.
He could see their combined future clearly, the best thing either of them would produce.
Frank caught Carver’s hand and kissed the back of it.
“I think The Frog Prince is going to be a huge hit,” Frank said confidently. “And so will we.”
Smiling, Carver glanced at him. “I haven’t a single doubt.”
The Hollywood Reporter
December 23, 1957
Los Angeles – Jump Studios has announced the upcoming release of a feature-length animated film entitled Bastogne, which will tell the story of children trapped in the Belgian town during WWII.
The film will focus on the strength and endurance of those children, as well as how their families supported American airmen who were also caught in the siege.
Still riding the fanfare from last year’s Academy Award win, studio head and former matinee idol Carver Reed says he looks forward to sharing a tale of hope and courage in uncertain times.
Frank Porter will lead the animation team and Paul Blanchard is head writer. Voice talent has not yet been announced.
Says Porter, speaking from the Blanchard family compound in Palm Springs, “Nothing could make me happier than working with these people and being a part of this project. It’s a bit of a risk to produce an animated film on this subject, but fairy tales aren’t the only stories that need to be told.
And here at Jump Studios, we know how well risks can pay off. ”
Judging from the success of the studio’s previous films, this risk will pay off in spades.