I reached down to snatch up my cell phone, only to discover it wasn't there.
Shit, I forgot to charge it last night
. I went back out into the apartment to where I'd left it in the kitchen the night before. Maybe Danny had left a message?
When I got to the phone, I noticed two things. There was only one bar left on my battery—and there were no messages. I scrolled down to Danny's number and hit the Call button. I smiled when I heard his voice. Even though it was only his voice mail, I couldn't seem to help myself.
“Hey…Danny, it's me. Give me a call when you have a sec.” I punched the End button and hightailed it back to my room. I nodded my head. I had indeed used the right laid-back, light, and airy tone in my voice. I plugged in my phone before heading to the shower.
I sat down at our usual table with my glass of wine and pack of smokes. They had the heaters running, and it took the chill out of the air as the drizzly rain continued to mist. I hated drizzle; it annoyed the hell out of me. Either rain or don't, but commit to one or the other already.
I placed my phone on the table and quickly checked the ringer to make sure I hadn't accidently turned it on vibrate or something. He still hadn't called, but it was lunch and Danny knew I was with Gabby every day at this time. I was sure he'd call this afternoon…always a time of day when the bookstore hit a lull in activity.
“Expecting a call?” Gabby winked as she sat across the table from me. She looked particularly beautiful, her dark red hair taking center stage in contrast to such a drizzly day. She was in a snazzy little gray pantsuit that had a cute little vest.
The pantsuit princess
. She slid off her jacket and tossed in onto the back of her chair. “I can't believe you beat me here.”
“I know. It may actually be a first.” I pulled out two smokes, lit one, and passed it to her. She took it from me as I lit the second one. “How was
your
weekend?”
“Apparently not as eventful as yours.” She was eyeing me funny.
“What?”
“Spill it.” She exhaled. “I can tell by the way you said
your weekend
that you really just want me to ask about yours.”
I glanced over at her disapprovingly but, considering she was dead-on, didn't comment further on that front. “Danny and I did it.”
“Did what?” Gabby smiled gratefully at the waitress who brought her a martini.
“
It
,” I said.
She looked at me and began to take a sip from her glass. Then, realizing what the
it
was, she choked and spewed vodka, misting me and the table with martini. I blinked once or twice, stunned by what had just happened. Her mouth fell open. She sprung up out of her seat, then took her napkin and dabbed at my face. I could tell she was desperate to suppress her laughter.
“How…refreshing,” I said, unmoving, my tone as flat and sarcastic as I could make it.
Gabby lost it as our waitress came over with a few more napkins. “I am so sorry.” She managed to squeeze the words out as she tried to minimize the scene that she'd already made. “I…I can't believe it.”
Embarrassed at having all eyes in the dining room turned on me, I began drying myself off. Gabby sat back down and asked the waitress to bring her another drink. There was a new glass on our table in no time.
Ensconced with our drinks, I gave Gabby the details of what had happened with Danny the night before. I reached down to pick up my smoke, only to notice the ashtray was gone. As I watched, the waitress dropped off a dry one. I sighed as Gabby sat patiently, tapping her finger lightly on the table until I finished the story.
“How was it?” Gabby'd been about to bust waiting to ask that question.
I smiled at her and felt my face begin to burn.
“That good, huh?”
“It was…wow. I mean…I never knew…” I reached up, letting my fingers graze my lips. “It was the most amazing…connection.”
“Christ, you sound like one of those Match.com fruitcakes.”
“Honestly, Gabby, when I think about it, I wanna cry and laugh at the same time. The intensity of Danny… I swear I couldn't look away, not that I wanted to.”
“This doesn't sound at all like Danny.”
“I know.” I picked up my ciggies—luckily and inexplicably still dry despite the Gabby shower. I slid one out and lit it. “I expected him to be…proficient, but I wasn't expecting earth-shatteringly intense.”
“And you haven't really talked with him since?” Gabby asked, swiping my smoke.
I glanced over at my phone. I frowned and wiped the tiny droplets of liquid off it. “No. I'm a little nervous. It's going to be weird being in the loft with him as an actual couple.”
“Normally I'd warn you to be careful, but he must want that too.” Gabby leaned back as our waitress dropped off the salads. “Danny knows you well enough to know what sleeping with you would mean.”
“And I swear to you I had nothing to do with starting it.”
Gabby laughed. “How did you know that's where I was going next?”
“We've been friends way too long.” I picked a tomato chunk off the top of my salad and tossed it into my mouth. “Did you go to Ross and Jason's commitment ceremony on Saturday?”
“No.” She stamped out the smoke. “But I did send them a lovely set of crystal martini glasses.”
“Naturally.” I took a sip of wine.
“Well, if I ever go to their house, I want them to have the appropriate stemware for me.”
“You're so considerate. It just pisses me off that gay people can't be legally married, like we aren't worthy. Don't let them faggots marry,” I said in my best redneck voice. “It's sacred. They'll ruin it, make a mockery out of it.” I sliced into my salad a bit overzealously. “Like straight people have any room to talk. Look at the fucking divorce rate in this country. Damn religious right and stupid, doody-headed Republicans.”
“Like your new boyfriend,” she said with a wicked smile, then looked back at me. “Jesus, Julian. What did you tell Andy?”
I cringed and shifted in my chair. “He's already called once today. I don't want to hurt him.”
“Well, you need to tell him.” Gabby gave me her don't-be-a-shit look. “And cheer up, sweets. Maybe by the time you're ready to drag Danny kicking and screaming down the aisle, it'll actually be legal. And don't go blaming just the Republicans; it was Clinton who signed the Defense of Marriage Act.”
“Don't remind me. I still feel betrayed, and it's how many years later?” I asked, dismayed and confused as ever. “All my naive, high school, Oxy Ten teen dreams were smashed when he did that.” I looked off into space. “A hero died for me that day.”
“You're so melodramatic.” Gabby pushed her plate away. “I thought it was funny that he signed that, considering all of the Monica cigar stuff came out. I'm stuffed already, and the food hasn't even come.”
“I
know
!” I placed my hand on my back and winced. “Twist the knife, why don't you? That hypocrite.”
“Julian”—she lit a cigarette—“it's just a piece of paper. It hardly defines a relationship.”
“I know.” I let out a sigh and looked back up at the ceiling with wholesomey goodness as I folded my hands in prayer fashion. “I've just always wanted to utter the words 'I, Julian Hallowell, take this perfect, stunning specimen of a man, to be my lawfully wedded—whatever.'”
Gabby laughed, and we spent the rest of our lunch describing what our weddings would be like, should we ever get married. Gabby, of course, wanted something outdoors with the wide-open sky all around, simple dress, simple ceremony, and by God she'd write her own vows. The word
obey
would never be used in any ceremony she was involved in.
While the word
obey
didn't exactly bother me, at least not in the bad way, my wedding was going to be extremely extravagant and despicably vulgar. It would be all different shades of white because nothing other than purest of pure would do for my lily-white ass. I'd invite everyone I'd ever met, and it would be in the largest venue, with the most flowers. An event to end all other events. It would be so over-the-top because right after I said the
I do
, I'd want to rub it in the face of all the mean-ass, gay-hating bigots as I jumped around like a brat singing
na-na, na-na, naaaaaaaaa!
Not very mature of me, I know, but what can I say?
Driving back to the loft after lunch, I thought about Danny and the man I knew him to be—as well as the man he probably never could be. Basically who he was, minus all the romantic ideals I'd piled onto him in the past. Even though I'd noticed a definite increase in physical affection over the past months, he was quite possibly never going to be a very touchy-feely guy. There would never be grand declarations of love or drawn-out conversations about feelings with Danny. I was fine with all that. Despite my need to hear it, I knew one overanalyzing neurotic boy per household was probably a good thing.
Regardless of my wants, I also knew I'd be much better off with a man like Danny. We made a good team, so to speak. We seemed to complement one another, each possessing some of the qualities that the other didn't. We also shared some that were most important to me. I was hyper and could talk the hind leg off a mule. Danny was more subdued and quiet, speaking when he had something to say versus my need to fill up any silence with noise. I'd always respected his strength and generosity, but the biggest gift he'd given me was helping me recognize my own strength.
It had only been a few months ago. My father's mother, Granny Grace, had just passed. Mom called to let me know, and even through the haze of sleep I was more than a bit surprised when she mentioned how devastated my father was. She'd said it with no malice, and it took me aback. I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard my mother or father say anything kind about the other.
On top of that, Granny Grace had hated my mother. My father had been the apple of her eye and her favorite son. Delilah on the other hand was from more humble beginnings, the daughter of a small-time businessman in a tiny Texas farming town. Delilah was nothing if not proud. Both she and everyone else in town had expected little Delilah would be the one to move on to bigger and better things. And my momma loved her daddy, who at the time owned a small feed and tackle store. For anyone to look down their nose at where she had come from… Well, let's just say that was the one thing you didn't do to my mother and expect it to ever be forgiven or forgotten. To her, that was like slapping her daddy in the face.
So it happened that upon meeting Delilah, Granny Grace took one look and asked my father, “What pauper patch did this one claw her way out of?”
My mother in return looked Grace dead in the eye and offered in her sweet Southern lilt, “I come from the land where manners are not forgotten.”
Now, no one ever talked back to Grace, with the exception of Delilah. A lifetime of resentment and bitterness followed. So, I was shocked by my mother's sympathetic attitude, considering I'd more likely expect to find her dancing naked on Granny Grace's front lawn, singing “Ding Dong the Witch Is Dead.”
“I can't believe you're even there.” I tried wiping the sleep out of my eyes.
“Well, your father's pretty torn up, Julian. As much as I disliked the old—” I could hear her take a deep breath. “I should not be speaking ill of the dead.”
“You should cut yourself a little slack, Mom.” I pulled myself over to the side of the bed and sat up. “You've got thirty-odd years' worth of habit to break.”
I could hear her laughing a bit under her breath. “I suppose you're right. When was it that you became so smart?”
“I'd certainly hope to hell I was, after nine years of college.”
“You most certainly have a point there. You could've been a doctor—”
I rolled my eyes. “Good Christ, my hell, I'm sorry I brought it up.”
“Don't interrupt your mother.”
I savored the moment of feeling suddenly like a little boy again. I loved that one word in the right tone of my mother's voice could accomplish that. Part of me really missed being that little boy…my momma's boy.
“Baby, I'll have a ticket ready for you to pick up at the airport,” Mom said.
“Be honest now, Momma.” I only called her momma when I teased her. “There's a teeny, tiny part of you that's only there because you know Granny Grace is watching right now, and she's fit to be tied knowing you're running things.”
“That is… Julian Hallowell, you shouldn't say such horrible things about your own mother.”
“I'll take that as a yes, considering that was the worst attempt you've ever made at trying to scold me.”
“You're a wicked child, Julian.”
“I love you too.”
I laughed at the little huff she made before hanging up the phone. I shook my head and felt momentarily sad that there would never be peace between Granny Grace and my mother. I was also a bit uncertain that my parents could actually work together for a few days without killing one another. Hell, I'd have been happy if they could at least stand to be in the same room.
Granny Grace always seemed to like me just fine. While I don't think my homosexuality had
really
bothered her all that much, she certainly liked to throw it out there as something else my mother did. From what I understood, I was a miracle as it was. My parents had wanted another child, a little sister or brother for me. But even after several years, I was still an only child. The doctors told my parents that the chances for a second child were slim due to “Delilah's faulty equipment,” as it was referred to when I was little. Perhaps that's why she latched onto Danny so quickly. He didn't have a mom, and she'd always wanted more children.
I'd always been very polite to Granny Grace for my father's sake, but I also resented her for bad-mouthing my mother. I suppose it made it a bit easier to overlook Granny's bad behavior if Mom was always doing the same to her. I really couldn't understand it, though; I thought they were so much alike—though I'd damn myself to hell before ever saying that to either one of them.
I'd come out of the bathroom after my shower and was startled to find Danny sitting on one of the bar stools at the island.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.” Danny turned in the swivel seat to face me. “Your Mom called and asked if I could drive you to the airport.”
“Crap, I already asked Gabby.” I looked around for my phone.
“You want me to call her?”
“If you don't mind?” I headed into my bedroom and slipped off my robe. I called out to him, “Thanks for helping out like this!”
“You don't have to yell,” Danny said.
I jumped, spinning around stark naked to find him leaning against the doorjamb of my bedroom. He had a devastatingly sexy-sinister smile as he looked me up and down and winked. I felt my entire body flush as I shook my head at him while turning back around to begin digging out clothes. I yanked on a pair of black boxer briefs, listening to Danny inform Gabby he'd take care of me. I smiled with some satisfaction when he told her I appeared to be handling it all very well.
It brought to my attention that I wasn't actually too broken up over it. That was more than a little strange for my behavior. I shrugged mentally, figuring I must be in shock or something. I looked up and noticed Danny had been talking to me.
“I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention; I thought you were still on the phone.”
“I asked if you'd like it if I went with you.”
I stopped tossing clothes onto my bed and looked up at him. I was certainly in shock now. I couldn't believe he'd offered. “You'd… I mean, yes, I would like that, but you don't…”
“Done. I'm there,” Danny said as if ordering extra egg rolls with his kung pao chicken. “I'll call your mom back and let her know I'm coming with you.”
My heart sank a little, figuring it was probably Mom who'd asked him to come. “Great, thanks…buddy.”
Buddy?
Never in all my life had I used the word
buddy.
Danny shook his head at me before he disappeared back out into the loft.
I stood in shock, watching my empty doorway. Well, despite Mom's meddling, I was glad that I wouldn't be going alone. I could already hear Granny Grace in my head recalling one of the many reasons I turned out the way I had. “
That damn Delilah coddled the boy too damn much, I tell you. If she'd let him out of her sights for more than two minutes, he might've had half a chance
.”
I laughed, thinking how much restraint it had taken for me to not pipe up and say
Actually, Granny, it has more to do with my incredibly strong desire to suck dick.
* * * * *
Danny and I rode in the car to my father's family home in the Forest Park area of St. Louis. I was almost able to convince myself that Danny was my guy as he placed his arm around me and tapped his fingers lightly on my shoulder in time with the music. It felt wonderful, even if it had been done out of friendship rather than love. We each looked slightly rumpled from the flight, weary in our jeans and T-shirts. I laid my head back onto his shoulder, catching a tiny whiff of the spicy scent of his aftershave.
My father's family wasn't rich by any means, moderately comfortable by today's standards, but Granny Grace seemed to think she was the Barbara Hutton of the Mississippi Delta. Toward the end of her life, while she'd gotten physically weaker and more fragile, she never lost her tongue, and her mind always seemed sharp as a tack.
The Hallowell family estate, a term I use loosely, sat on about four acres in the older part of the city. The land used to be part of a much larger parcel that my great-grandfather purchased from the Hamilton family. Little pieces of the Hamilton estate had been whittled away over the years after the death of Jonathon Hamilton, whose large plantation-style home sat on the opposite end of the three-block street named Emiline Avenue. The two larger estates were separated by Victorians of various sizes, a few smaller Craftsman-style homes, and a bungalow that had been designed by Frank Lloyd Wright.
The whole Hamilton family had a sordid history. Granny called them witches and forbade me anywhere near them as a child. Granny's twin brother had apparently fallen in love with one of the daughters. I never knew any of the details, but Granny was convinced those Hamilton witches had murdered her brother.
The Hallowell house, where my father had grown up, was indeed something to behold. Built in 1902, the Venetian, palazzo-style home featured a Bedford Limestone exterior that had held up beautifully over the years. At over ten thousand square feet, one was left with the impression that the house would last forever. It was a massive two-and-a-half-story home with a large set of limestone steps that led up to a portico. A huge solarium on the south side of the house provided a balcony for the second-floor master suite. In the bright sun, it was a shiny white beacon surrounded by parklike, gated grounds.
I smiled when Danny commented that the place was pretty. As the car pulled up the circular drive, I could see my parents come out of the portico onto the front steps. Dad was, as usual, clad in khakis and a polo shirt. Mom was in a gauzy, cream-colored two-piece ensemble, the top of which was a wraparound that tied at the waist. The loose curls of my mother's midlength blonde hair blew lightly in the breeze. They made a damn smart-looking pair, but I had to do a double take when I saw my father's arm around my mother's waist. I was beginning to believe I'd had an aneurism and had become stuck in some hallucinatory, alternate-universe coma where my parents actually liked one another.
When I was a teenager, I liked to pretend that my parents had just been a more dysfunctional nineteen seventies version of Jordan and Leslie Benedict from
Giant
. As many times as I wished they'd get back together then, the sight of them together now was a little creepy.
“Hello,” my father bellowed as Danny and I got out of the car.
Once up the steps in front of him, I could tell he'd been crying by the look of his bloodshot eyes. I smiled, comforted a bit by the slight scent of bourbon on his breath. Jacob Hallowell was far more handsome than any man had a right to be at his age. His dark brown hair was peppered with white. Unlike me, he had nicely defined masculine features. We did, however, have the exact same big brown eyes. Dad was more beefy than I'd ever be, but I had managed to inherit his metabolism, something my mother both appreciated and envied. He'd always been a looker, as my mom used to say. When she talked about him during those times, back when they had first met and married, I could see she was still in love with him, or at least with the version of the man she thought he was when they'd met.
“Hi, Dad.” I wrapped my arms around him and smiled as he squeezed me back. I couldn't remember him hugging me like that since I was little. “I'm sorry about Granny Grace. I thought she'd outlive us all.”
“Out of sheer orneriness if nothing else.” Dad laughed as we separated. He leaned forward and shook Danny's hand. “Good to see you again, Danny.”
“You too, sir, though I wish under better circumstances. My condolences.”
Dad offered his thanks as I hugged Mom and gave her a peck on the cheek. “You look stunning, Mother.”
She gave me a look before turning her attention to Danny. “Thank you for offering to come with Julian.”
He'd offered to come with me after all?
Danny seemed to blush a little as he caught my gaze.
“Please let me know if I can help in any way.” Danny looked at me briefly, then back to my parents.
“Not all of the family has made it in yet, but—” Dad started.
“Oh Christ.” It came out a little louder than intended, as evidenced by my mother's shushing.
Dad was giving me a little smile, and I noticed a slight twinkle return to his eyes. “We've already sat down with her, and now we're telling you as well that this is not the time or the place to air out old family grievances.”