Home is a Fire (15 page)

I heard footsteps, then a pause.

“Luke? It’s Derek. Please. Can I come in?”

I heard the lock
click
, and for a second I wasn’t sure if he was locking or unlocking it, so when the light from the living room spilled out across the doorframe into the darkness of the night I almost began to cry again, but I knew I had to keep it together.

“Hey,” I said, raising my eyebrows and managing a half-hearted smile.

“Hey,” he mumbled. He opened the door wider and stepped back, allowing me to enter, then shut it quickly behind him and
leaned against it, looking downward as he stuffed his fists into the pockets of his jeans.

“Thanks for letting me in.”

“No problem,” he said, but I wasn’t sure he was telling the truth.

“I… damn, Luke. I’ve missed you.”

He didn’t say anything or even look up at me. He just kept staring at his shoes, the muscles in his jaw clenching with every breath. I had to say something quick or I was out the door in thirty seconds. This was my only shot, and it had better be good.

“I guess you got my message,” I started. “But I just wanted to tell you in person. I’m sorry. I really am. If I pushed too hard and crossed a line, that was my mistake. And I own that. But the thing is, you and I have something special. Something I’ve never felt with anyone before. You’re in my head every day. Part of me knows I should walk away, while another part of me wants to grab you, throw you down and kiss the hell out of you. We both felt something huge in our lives for the last few weeks, and I think we can both acknowledge that. But I miss you, and I can’t handle this silence that is between us now. So here’s the thing. Nothing will happen between us, if
we
don’t want it to, or don’t try. Everything
can
happen between us, if we
both
want it to, and we
do
try. The passion, the conversations, the touching, the kisses, the scent, the words, the time we have spent together. That has been my everything.
You
have been my everything. Luke, you are thinking far, far too hard. If you want a true partner, he is right in front of you. I could list every reason why you should be with me, but truthfully, you know them already. With
bravery, we can make reality. With hesitation, other choices cement themselves. I miss the hell out of you. I don’t want to sleep alone, anymore. You mean so much to me, Luke.”

I felt like I had put it all out there, thrown everything down on the line. I did my best and opened my heart fully to him. But the tension in the room did not diminish, as I had hoped it would.

He continued to stare down at his feet, and his face didn’t change. I couldn’t read him right now. I didn’t know if anything I had said had any effect on him, whatsoever. My heart started pounding even harder, and I could feel the moment slipping from my fingers. I felt like the Bachelor, and my rose was about to be rejected.

He looked up and locked onto my eyes. He spoke, softly, but with purpose. “I felt free with you, Derek. Like I could do anything. Be anyone.” He took a breath. “But I’m not like you. We’re not at the same place in our lives. This is still all new to me. I’m not ready to tell my family, to stand up in front of the school… in front of my athletes. My team. I just, I...” He paused. “I can’t be the guy you want me to be,” he said. “I can’t be the guy you deserve.”

My stomach was caught in my throat, and I started to shake. I wanted to cry, but I was holding everything in. There was nothing more to say, really. I could hear Kit in my head reminding me that confidence was sexy. Right now the only thing I was confident about was the fact that I needed to leave. Immediately. He made a choice. He was clear about it, and the longer I stayed or tried to convince him otherwise the more pathetic I would look.

I walked closer to him and he stood there, motionless. I reached up and kissed him softly on his cheek, one hand on his chest, the other on his shoulder. There was no reaction. The smell of his neck made my knees weak, but that was just an unfortunate memory at this point.

“You’re an amazing man,” I said. “I hope you find your happiness.”

And I walked out the door without looking back.

22

“You call this a bagel?” said David. “How can they call this a bagel? This isn’t a bagel. My god. It’s basically a salty donut. How can you people live on these things? Oh, right. We should just cover it in bacon. Or cheese.
Ooh!
Or deep-fry it! You people love to deep fry things. I’ve never seen so many things deep-fried in my entire life. Cheese, Twinkies, Oreo cookies, candy bars. Even turkeys! What’ll they think of next? Deep fried pickles?”

“We already have that,” I said, half smiling. It was strange sitting here with David, as if I was watching a foreign movie, but laughing at all the wrong times. We were on our way to finding our rhythm again, but did I even want that? I wasn’t sure, yet.

“Of course you do!” said David as he placed the rejected bagel back down on his plate. “And this coffee? These people
should be arrested. I can’t deny it’s cheap. That’s a plus. I mean, $1 for an endless cup of coffee? It’s insane. Where’s their profit? But the look on her face when I asked for a tall iced skinny caramel macchiato was amazing. Priceless. Hello? It’s as if I was speaking another language or something! I swear, I don’t know how you people drink this stuff. It’s basically brown water! I will never get used to it here.”

You won’t have to, I thought to myself, as I gazed out the window.

It was a beautiful autumn day, with winter just around the corner. It had been a few weeks since I made my last ditch effort with Luke, and so much had changed. David and I were having a Saturday morning breakfast at Margie’s Lunch Counter, downtown. Margie’s was a throwback to another era, and I loved it. Vintage wood paneling from the 1940s, counter tops with specks of glitter, vinyl seats and circular booths and amazingly cheap breakfast and lunch specials with Southern favorites like grits, okra and fried green tomatoes. The waitresses were all older ladies of another generation, with names like Bertha, Madge and Ethel. It wasn’t quite David’s cup of tea, but I was trying to expose him to the “real people” culture that I loved so much in Parkville.

After showing up on opening night, David had been persistent. Not pushy, but persistent. More than I thought he could be, actually, and that’s saying a lot. He really kept his eye on the prize. Maybe I learned how to be a greyhound from him? That first week he was in Parkville we met a few times before he headed back to New York. We just had a simple coffee, then a walk by the lake. Our conversations were tough and awkward,
but I could feel that he was trying. I kept him away from my family and friends, because I really needed to see for myself how I felt. Had he really changed? What if I had I changed too much?

Things progressed very slowly, at first. I was impressed with his patience. After that first week, he sent me a few text messages from New York, and we just started talking again, more every day. Soon we were spending a few nights a week video chatting. Though I resisted his attempts at a group therapy session with Gerald, every now and then Marcos would jump onscreen with him, and that was nice to see a familiar face. There was a hole in my heart where Luke had been, and I didn’t expect that David would be the one to fill it, but I was surprised at how easily we fell back into our old routines. Not in a bad way, but in a comfortable way. David was like that old sweater you rediscover when you are switching your summer closet for your winter one. You put it on after months of forgetting that it even existed, and it just feels good. It felt right. It was easy. Easier than I thought it could be, post Luke.

Soon after, he started flying down here every two weeks and spending long weekends, getting to know my friends, my town, my life. He looked exactly as I’d left him. Model thin, dark hair, trendy wire framed glasses, impeccably dressed in shades of black and grey. He was the anti-Luke. He didn’t fit in at all, but rather than find it awful and awkward, it made me laugh. He kept referring to everyone as “you people,” no matter how many times I tried to get him to say “y’all.” It just sounded so funny coming from his lips. He complained about everything; the unhealthy food, the lack of fashion sense, the
over reliance on cars. He was a true New Yorker, lost in the South. We were from different worlds, but somehow we had found each other, drifted apart, and then slowly, cautiously, been reunited.

And the one thing that about David that made me happier than anything else? He was out. Out and proud. In a land of Republicans he was capital “G” Gay, and he didn’t give two shits if people sneered, commented or even noticed us at all. He was fearless, and after spending so many nights hiding behind walls with Luke, I felt free again.

“Next time I come down here I am bringing you bagels,” he said. “Real bagels. I honestly don’t know how you have survived. And sourdough? There’s just no decent Jewish deli in this town, right?”

“Well, we used to have one, but it’s a sushi place now. They put matzah balls in the egg drop soup. Long story.” I laughed. “We have other things that are better, though. You learn to adjust.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what,” he said. “When it comes to desserts, I’ll have to agree with you there. I mean, there’s no rugelach, but these pies? Oh, my god. Pecan pie, blueberry pie, banana cream pie. Chess pie? I’d never heard of it before and now it’s all I ever want for my coffee break. We just have to find a better place for coffee! Please tell me there’s better coffee, somewhere?”

“Hey, I have an idea,” I said. “Since you’re heading back to New York tomorrow, let’s go out tonight for some fun. I’ll show you Parkville’s burgeoning gay side of town, and we’ll have a few laughs. Okay?”

“Derek, darling, I put myself in your capable hands,” he said. “I trust you.” He leaned across the table and gave me a kiss, right in front of Margie, Bertha, Madge and Ethel.

I can honestly say it’s starting to feel nice to be with David again. One closet door closes, and another closet door comes flying open, right?

23

“This is disgusting,” said David. “I feel like I’m in a redneck version of the East Village.”

“Welcome to Bottom’s Up,” I said as we walked into the bar. “Isn’t it great?!”

“Do we need to get shots before we come in here?” he said. “I feel like we need shots. Like, hepatitis and Ebola and Black Death. Do they ever clean this place? Oh, my god. My mother would die.”

“Let’s hope your mother doesn’t show up here,” I said. “That would be awkward.” He laughed, but he was still holding tight to my side with both hands, as if he needed protection. “Let’s get a few drinks and you’ll feel better. What are you in the mood for?”

“Some disinfectant?”

“Funny.” I pointed in the corner. “Tell you what, go grab that table over there and I’ll get the first round.” I paused, and then turned back to him. “But be careful of the inmates. They may bite.”

“Now who’s being a smart ass?” he said, reaching over to give me a kiss. “Make sure there’s vodka in it. Lots. At least that will kill any germs in the glass.”

He wandered over to the table by the jukebox and took a seat, looking around at the patrons as if he had just landed on another planet and he was sent there to analyze their behavior. He cracked me up, but sometimes I felt like I was dating Felix from
The Odd Couple
.

“Hey there,” I said to the bartender. “How y’all doing tonight?”

“Can’t complain,” he said. “What can I do ya for?”

“A pitcher of Long Island Ice Tea, please, and 4 shots of Jack.”

The bartender grabbed a pitcher and multiple bottles and started concocting a mess of liquor that I have never really understood. How can so many disparate tastes come together to make something so undeniably awesome?

“That’ll be $16, buddy,” he said.

I laughed a little to myself. Sixteen whole dollars? How could I ever think of leaving this place? I handed him a twenty and took the pitcher back to our table. David was staring wide eyed at every detail of the bar, including the patrons.

“I never knew there were so many uses for duct tape,” he said.

“Yep. I think there’s even a blog. We can look it up online later.” I handed him a shot of whiskey and poured out two Long Island Ice Teas. “Here’s to us. Who’s like us?”

“Damn few!” he said, and we downed our first shot. We laughed. It was a line from a Stephen Sondheim musical called
Merrily We Roll Along
. Something I could never have laughed about with Luke. I felt a slight pang in my heart, but it was true. He never would have gotten the reference. With David, it all just came easy.

The drinks started to kick in, and David was relaxing more and more. It took some time, but I think he actually started to enjoy himself. The two twinks next to us took over the jukebox, and the sounds of Britney filled the air.

“Where y’all from?” one of them said to us, over the strains of “Oops, I Did it Again.”

“A place where we don’t end our sentences in prepositions,” David laughed. I almost spit out my drink. “I’ve always wanted to say that! I saw that on an episode of
Designing Women
years ago. Julia Sugarbaker! Oh, my god! I love this place!” His vodka was kicking in.

“I don’t get it,” said the twink, and we just laughed and laughed.

“Come on,” I said, after we had finished our drinks. “Let’s get out of here. I have another surprise for you.”

The Bears’ Club wasn’t that far from Bottom’s Up, and we were there and parked in no time at all. I hadn’t called Uncle Barry, but I didn’t think he’d be too upset. I had told David about Barry/Beret, but he hadn’t seen the full drag experience, yet. I figured now was as good a time as any.

We walked through the back entrance and the red lacquer door shut behind us. I didn’t see Scotty in his usual spot, so he must have been fetching drinks for Beret. We crept over to the stage, but there weren’t any performers. We must have arrived in between shows, or maybe they were just having a meeting and cocktails tonight? Who knows?