Major Conflict Read Online Free PDF

his own sexuality ever come up with anyone at work, he should act as if he was straight, he should deny being gay. Looking back now, I honestly can’t believe how naïve I was, and how selfish. Did I really believe Greg would do such a thing? Did I really believe I had a right to ask him to lie about himself? Amazingly, I think I did. But I underestimated him.
    A confused look came over his face. He took a quick, long drag on his cigarette, staring at me the whole time, incredulous, as if he were seeing me for the very first time. Then, stabbing out the cigarette hard in the big plastic ashtray that was kept on the ledge there, he said, shaking his head, “I love you, Jeff, but I can’t do that. I just can’t. . . .” I thought he was going to start crying, but he pulled himself together and flung open the door to the sales floor and rushed out. “Wait, Greg,” I said, and I raced out after him, grabbing his arm just as he reached the large display table covered with travel books in the center of the store. It would have been hard to find a more conspicuous place, but I wasn’t thinking. “Ouch, damn it, Jeff,” Greg yelled, rubbing his arm. I’d grabbed too hard. “Why don’t you just rip my arm out of the socket, you idiot,” and he turned and continued walking toward the information desk in the front of the store. “Wait, Greg, I’m sorry—I . . .” and then I looked around and saw that, with the exception of the cashiers in the pit ringing up sales, everything else in the store had slowed down or stopped completely. I felt as if I’d been dropped into a film that had suddenly been switched to slow motion. Customers on the open staircase above the travel section paused between steps and looked down. Clerks shelving books in the back slowly turned their heads toward me. People browsing the green Michelin guides stopped browsing and looked up. Jane Light, the older woman who ordered the travel books and anchored the information desk, stopped talking and dipped her head down and looked out over her glasses at me.
    I froze. It felt as if the ground had just disappeared from under my feet. I got hot and dizzy, and I imagine I turned beet red. I looked down at the table of travel books, then squatted down, as if I were looking for something in the overstock section below. I tried to breathe while listening to the store return to normal. I heard Jane Light’s voice resume, and footsteps on the stairs again. And then I grabbed a travel guide, hurried back to the door to the back staircase, rushed inside, and took the steps down two at a time.
    We avoided each other the rest of the afternoon, and when he left at five, I was relieved. This was it, I promised myself. No more hanging around with that faggot. I wasn’t going to do it. But then around seven-thirty he called the store, slightly drunk, from J’s downtown.
    â€œWe have to talk, Jeff,” he said, sounding frantic, as if he’d been crying.
    â€œNo, nothing to talk about,” I said curtly, ready to hang up on him.
    â€œMeet me, Jeff, please, meet me in front of the church at Fifty-fifth when you get off.”
    There was a pleading in his voice. I hesitated, but then hung up. Thirty seconds later the phone rang again. I picked it up.
    â€œWhat,” I said. “What do you want from me?”
    â€œPlease, Jeff, you owe me this much, just meet me in front of Fifth Avenue Presbyterian when you’re done with your shift. We can talk on the way to the train.”
    â€œWhat will it take for you to understand?”
    â€œOh, I understand, Jeff, I understand you better than you understand yourself!”
    â€œFuck you,” I said under my breath. I was standing at the information desk. “And don’t come up here. Don’t come up here! Stay down there at your faggot bar!” And I slammed the phone down. I was so angry I felt sure that if Greg had