Free Master of Ceremonies: A Memoir by Joel Grey Page A

win his affections.
    And then they started to date.
    When I realized that it was really happening, I was stunned and promptly came down with the flu. I didn’t answer the dozens of calls from either of them. Linda thought it was because I was sick, but Paul knew. After a few weeks, I finally took his call; he assured me that nothing had changed. He still loved me—and he wanted to see me despite his new girlfriend. “Yes, I’m seeing her, but you are the most important person in my life,” he said. I understood what he was saying, because being with women was part of my life, too. It was the way of the world. You had to go out with girls to function in society. “Linda is also fond of you,” he added.
    Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to stay away from him, and so our affair became ever more complicated and torturous. Knowing he was with Linda and lying to her, all the while still needing him, was hard. So this was grown-up love.
    Their romance, which was the talk of West LA, quickly became serious.
    “Paul and Linda. Aren’t they wonderful together!”
    “She has money and beauty, and he’s so intelligent and inspiring.”
    “And to think that they fell in love right before our eyes.”
    While everyone congratulated themselves on the wonderful news, I was stunned—betrayed and confused. How was this possible? And yet, just as when I had left Walter behind in Cleveland, there was no one to turn to, no one to tell. The times, my age, Paul’s profession, and his own need to remain closeted all meant that I had to suffer in silence. To whom could I even tell such a thing? Isolation was a terrible by-product of keeping secrets. When they announced their wedding, slated to be a big social event of the season, I thought, If they only knew .
    Not long after they were married, Linda called to ask if I would join them for dinner. At Musso & Frank in Hollywood, the three of us shared one of the booths in the restaurant’s dark wood interior. When we finished the meal, it was still early. Paul, excited about a new Horowitz recording, suggested that we all go back to their apartment to listen to it. At their place, he put on the record before disappearing into the kitchen. He reemerged with champagne to celebrate the three of us being together again. He toasted to how much we all loved one another, and we drank to being friends forever.
    Paul was a little overly solicitous and exuberant, but I assumed it was discomfort over my being in the presence of his new wife. He lowered the lights. “A little mood lighting for Mr. Horowitz,” he said, sliding in between Linda and me on the couch and putting an arm around each of us.
    It took about three sips for the champagne to go to my head. The notes of the Chopin etude tripped along warm air. This wasn’t so bad. Then, he turned his face toward mine and kissed me. Linda might have been as surprised as I was; I had no idea, because I stared straight ahead and didn’t dare look anywhere near her direction for a reaction. Then it was my turn to be surprised when Paul turned to kiss her. Paul, our cantor, her husband, my lover, started to undress Linda while I sat there and watched. The whole thing was so mixed up that it went way past shock. Paul, taking my hand and putting it on Linda’s breast, set into motion a scenario that I willingly went along with. The last thing I wanted to be around Paul was an unsophisticated kid. When it was all over, I realized I’d better get home. I had school the next day and hadn’t studied for a math test. Someone drove me home. I don’t remember who.
    After that night I no longer saw or heard from Paul or Linda. I stopped going to services (whenever my parents asked if I was coming I found myself busy). The shame of what we had done together was too great for me to face, and I assumed that the same was true for them. About four months after our night together, though, Linda showed up at school. She still had the white convertible, but when