Though Josh and Matthew had broken up shortly after last summer’s Pride weekend, and Matthew had sped off to Bremerton, Washington without so much as proper notification, he and Josh had stayed in contact. Josh understood Matthew’s reasons for moving away and, in his heart, he could not stay angry. And though he desperately needed to talk to his friends about it, he promised Matthew to keep it between them.
Josh, Jacin, Eddie and Owen had flown into Seattle the Monday before New Year’s Eve 1999, the eve of the new millennium — at least in the eyes of technology. That day the sun was uncharacteristically shining bright and had returned throughout much of the week, which was also an anomaly. However, a coat and hat were still necessary to deflect the icy chill in the air.
The group of friends enjoyed the radiant sun by touring the Bremerton Naval yard, visiting Mt. Rainier National Park and, on the day before New Year’s Eve, taking a ferry across Puget Sound to Seattle. They strolled through Pike Place Market where muscular fishmongers in bulky chest waders tossed large fish to each other. And after perusing the quaint shops and the handmade crafts of local artists they moved on to the Capitol Hill area. Rainbow flags on storefronts waved to them as they window-shopped through Pike and Pine Streets to Broadway Avenue.
On a whim as they passed a tattoo parlor/gift shop, Owen suggested they each get a tattoo. After some prodding, Jacin agreed and offered to pay for Eddie’s as a birthday present. Josh and Matthew adamantly refused, but the other three stepped inside the small shop called Pink Zone. The heavily tattooed artist greeted the trio with caution. She took them through a screening process — it was so damn professional — making sure they were neither drunk nor high. She quizzed them with intensity, feeling them out — Eddie thought to himself, there’s nothing worse than permanently altering a tourist’s body, especially one from Utah, and then having him forever regret it. Once she was satisfied that each of them was completely committed and that each had chosen a personal and creative canvas — not a gecko or a heart with ‘MOM’ written across it – she went to work.
Just over three hours later Jacin stepped out of the shop with a pair of dancing flamingoes in top hats on his lower back, followed by Jacin stamped with a quill and inkwell on his right shoulder. Behind them Owen limped from pouty red lips needled into his right butt cheek.
They headed back to Pine Street to meet Josh and Matthew at the Manray, an intimate oval-shaped bar that, on the inside, looked like a submarine, with porthole video screens and a periscope bar centered in the room. Josh and Matthew were sitting at a small white table in the back getting smashed on martinis served in bathtub-sized glasses.
The next morning, New Year’s Eve day (and Eddie’s thirtieth birthday), was once again ablaze with sunshine. Owen was the first to rise, as was typical, since he found Matthew’s sofa bed extremely uncomfortable. He went into the kitchen, the hardwood floors of the weathered old rental house creaking under his feet. He whipped up some breakfast: scrambled eggs with peppers and onions, bacon and what he calls flapjacks.
By mid afternoon the blue sky had turned grey and lumpy. Sitting around the laminate kitchen table — an array of fowl feathers and beads and glitter scattered across it — the quintet worked silently in concentration, less the occasional "Anyone need another beer while I’m up?" They had decided earlier in the week to make Mardi Gras masks to wear for the evening’s festivities.
By seven o’clock they had had manicotti (Eddie’s favorite) for dinner and each were dressed warmly in gray and black. Owen and Matthew opted to wear black patent leather pants while Jacin, Josh and Eddie went more formal with dress slacks. Under their masks, just like in the movies, they were unrecognizable. They had a laugh about it.
Initially, they had hoped to attend the New Year’s Eve party at the Space Needle, but an unconfirmed terrorist threat forced the city to cancel it. So of course plan B was bar-hopping; hitting R Place first — an upscale, three-floor bar catering to thirtysomething professionals. Then they’d wander over to Neighbours, a gay disco, and dance there until midnight, then finish off the night at The Cuff, a a cement wall grunge bar frequented by leather daddies.
Only a couple dozen other partygoers were mingling about, the group noticed, when they entered R Place and ordered drinks from the unharried bartender. Their masks prompted a few smirks by the preppy crowd. Realizing this was not really the scene they were after, they shoved off.
Neighbours was busy when they entered it a little after nine o’clock. A flock of shirtless young guys swept across the large dance floor to Donna Summers’ "Last Dance," which Jacin commented seemed a bit premature. Owen scanned the floor and immediately picked out his prey, a short shirtless black boy with a sinewy body so tight Owen could make out his obliques trailing off under the waistband of his pants. Without a word Owen disappeared into the fog.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Before He Sleeps
It had been nine days since Jacin’s accident. Four of which he spent in a coma and his family and friends spent in a state of despair. When Jacin finally opened his eyes on the evening of the fourth day, his lover George and his parents were placed in his room in different shapes of foreboding: George in a chair, head back and, as Jacin could only assume, counting the holes in the ceiling; Mom sat huddled in a small couch — she seemed to be shrinking into it — and was absently flipping through a Time magazine; and Dad was asleep next to Mom on the couch, a small percussion reverberating from his throat.
Jacin knew he was in a hospital, he just couldn’t remember why or how he arrived there. The more he tried, the more agitated he became. He tried to get someone’s attention, but his mouth felt desert dry and he couldn’t speak. He lifted his arm, which was like lifting a concrete block, and wiggled his fingers until George either finally noticed him or lost count of the holes.
Doctors were immediately called in, and after asking Jacin what he remembered about the accident (which was nothing), they randomly took turns explaining that he was suffering from a form of amnesia that affects both pre- and post-injury memories. Their consoling-covered condescending tones infuriated Jacin.
He just wanted to remember something, anything. Not knowing what happened scared him more than what actually did.
Now home after a couple more days of observation in the hospital — a home barely recognizable — a nauseous fear encumbered Jacin.
He remembers their pet dachshunds and their cat Freddy Kreuger, but not his breed. He remembers the African art decorating the living room, but while looking at it, doesn’t remember why he likes it. He remembers his and George’s bed, but not on what side he prefers to sleep.
These disparaging uncertainties and others compounded by absolutely no memory of the accident and the events leading up to it left Jacin in a near-constant state of depression he assumed (or maybe it was the Oxycodone, which was also making his skin itch as if it was prescription poison ivy). He felt as if he were floating aimless several feet off the ground, detached from the world as it moved along through its daily grind, unnoticed and forgotten even though he was getting more attention than bald Britney Spears.
The front door of their home had been like a revolving door occupied by a handful of unruly six-year-olds for several days. Family and friends brought home-baked cranberry-zucchini bread, flower bouquets, houseplants and a more recreational type of greenery (yet another source of confusion for Jacin). They’d come in with oversized smiles and deep concern emanating from saddened eyes. They’d parrot "how are you feeling?" and "can I do something for you?" day in, day out. They’d offer words of encouragement, push old photographs in his face, tell wild stories of past improprieties they shared.
It was insufferable and made Jacin’s aching bandaged head throb like boiling water.
By the end of the third day home, the commotion had settled to a dull hum, much like the feeling in his right leg. Three pins were surgically inserted to hold together his fractured kneecap and an immobilizer was to be worn 24 hours a day so as not to bend the knee.
The pain was unbearable. The pain made him cry sometimes ... really, most of the time. Sometimes he’d cry so hard his body convulsed a little bit.
Jacin looked at George sitting on the bed next to him (the right side, Jacin realized) watching another compelling Divorce Court.
"Take me there," Jacin finally decided.
"What ... where?" George asked.
"To the Trax station where it happened."
Shaking his head, "No, no. I don’t think that’s a good idea."
"Besides," George continued. "Your parents are coming by soon."
"Then tomorrow," Jacin insisted.
The next morning, after a grueling walk to the truck, George drove them to the 21st South Trax station. Obviously for a Sunday there were just a half dozen people waiting on the platform.
"Anything?" George asked after a couple of minutes.
Tears slid down Jacin’s cheeks. A whisper, "No, nothing."
That night at a quarter past midnight, Jacin’s suddenly in a bar, in the middle of the day, with some friends and a woman he doesn’t know, but whom Josh calls Keri. She removes a photograph from her wallet and passes it around. When it makes its way to Jacin, he sees a photo of a young, conservatively dressed man with black wavy hair and shocking green eyes. The strange woman says to the group, "Mark’s a good husband and father ..."
Suddenly Jacin’s laying face up on cold concrete, pain searing through his body. He just makes out the same man from the photo standing over him, his eyes now more shocked than shocking, and cradling a small girl with velvety blonde curls – the same girl Jacin just risked his life to save.
To be continued …
Jacin knew he was in a hospital, he just couldn’t remember why or how he arrived there. The more he tried, the more agitated he became. He tried to get someone’s attention, but his mouth felt desert dry and he couldn’t speak. He lifted his arm, which was like lifting a concrete block, and wiggled his fingers until George either finally noticed him or lost count of the holes.
Doctors were immediately called in, and after asking Jacin what he remembered about the accident (which was nothing), they randomly took turns explaining that he was suffering from a form of amnesia that affects both pre- and post-injury memories. Their consoling-covered condescending tones infuriated Jacin.
He just wanted to remember something, anything. Not knowing what happened scared him more than what actually did.
Now home after a couple more days of observation in the hospital — a home barely recognizable — a nauseous fear encumbered Jacin.
He remembers their pet dachshunds and their cat Freddy Kreuger, but not his breed. He remembers the African art decorating the living room, but while looking at it, doesn’t remember why he likes it. He remembers his and George’s bed, but not on what side he prefers to sleep.
These disparaging uncertainties and others compounded by absolutely no memory of the accident and the events leading up to it left Jacin in a near-constant state of depression he assumed (or maybe it was the Oxycodone, which was also making his skin itch as if it was prescription poison ivy). He felt as if he were floating aimless several feet off the ground, detached from the world as it moved along through its daily grind, unnoticed and forgotten even though he was getting more attention than bald Britney Spears.
The front door of their home had been like a revolving door occupied by a handful of unruly six-year-olds for several days. Family and friends brought home-baked cranberry-zucchini bread, flower bouquets, houseplants and a more recreational type of greenery (yet another source of confusion for Jacin). They’d come in with oversized smiles and deep concern emanating from saddened eyes. They’d parrot "how are you feeling?" and "can I do something for you?" day in, day out. They’d offer words of encouragement, push old photographs in his face, tell wild stories of past improprieties they shared.
It was insufferable and made Jacin’s aching bandaged head throb like boiling water.
By the end of the third day home, the commotion had settled to a dull hum, much like the feeling in his right leg. Three pins were surgically inserted to hold together his fractured kneecap and an immobilizer was to be worn 24 hours a day so as not to bend the knee.
The pain was unbearable. The pain made him cry sometimes ... really, most of the time. Sometimes he’d cry so hard his body convulsed a little bit.
Jacin looked at George sitting on the bed next to him (the right side, Jacin realized) watching another compelling Divorce Court.
"Take me there," Jacin finally decided.
"What ... where?" George asked.
"To the Trax station where it happened."
Shaking his head, "No, no. I don’t think that’s a good idea."
"Besides," George continued. "Your parents are coming by soon."
"Then tomorrow," Jacin insisted.
The next morning, after a grueling walk to the truck, George drove them to the 21st South Trax station. Obviously for a Sunday there were just a half dozen people waiting on the platform.
"Anything?" George asked after a couple of minutes.
Tears slid down Jacin’s cheeks. A whisper, "No, nothing."
That night at a quarter past midnight, Jacin’s suddenly in a bar, in the middle of the day, with some friends and a woman he doesn’t know, but whom Josh calls Keri. She removes a photograph from her wallet and passes it around. When it makes its way to Jacin, he sees a photo of a young, conservatively dressed man with black wavy hair and shocking green eyes. The strange woman says to the group, "Mark’s a good husband and father ..."
Suddenly Jacin’s laying face up on cold concrete, pain searing through his body. He just makes out the same man from the photo standing over him, his eyes now more shocked than shocking, and cradling a small girl with velvety blonde curls – the same girl Jacin just risked his life to save.
To be continued …
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Leonard's Bets
Velvety blonde locks sprung from her head like an old box spring. She was curled in her father’s arms, resting her head on his shoulder. Dried tears crusted her plump pinkish cheeks, which illuminated red by the blinking ambulance lights.
It was Halloween night 2005.
Leticia’s Trooper zipped along Sixth Avenue toward LDS Hospital.
"Watch out!" shouted Eddie, sitting in the front passenger seat. A trickle of trick-or-treaters were crossing the street pulling a Radio Flyer wagon. Leticia swerved to miss them and blew a tire when the SUV slammed into the curb.
Cameron leaned tensely against George’s chest, her legs sprawled eagle in the cargo space. The jolt of hitting the curb started another contraction, which were occurring more often.
"Oh god, we have to get to the hospital now!" Cameron hissed through gritted teeth.
"Hold on baby," Eddie encouraged her. "I have an idea."
He jumped out of the Trooper, demanding — but also frightening — the young trick-or-treaters give him their wagon.
"Look," Eddie said unclipping the identification card from his lapel, handing it to a pint-size Jack Sparrow pulling the wagon. "My name is Fox Mulder. I’m an FBI agent and I need your wagon to get to the hospital now."
"It doesn’t really look like you," said the pirate. "And why’s your shirt undone?"
"Listen kid," Eddie retorted. "If we don’t have the key, we can’t open whatever we don’t have that it unlocks. So what purpose would be served in finding whatever need be unlocked, which we don’t have, without first having found the key what unlocks it?"
Expressed with utter confusion, Sparrow asked, "What?"
"Not exactly egregious like the real Jack Sparrow, are you kid?" Eddie snatched his identification back, cleared the contents from the wagon and strode off with it.
The trick-or-treaters stood awestruck, watching the rude FBI agent, a couple of witches and a hippie load a very fat, bloodied, zombie-cheerleader into the wagon and then disappear into the dark.
When they pulled Cameron through the Emergency entrance of the hospital fifteen minutes later, the enigmatic agent Dana Scully was in mothering mode.
"Eddie," she started. "Where have you been, we all left the house twenty minutes ago? Why is Cameron in a wagon?"
"We blew a tire Jody," Eddie answered. "I confiscated this wagon from trick-or-treaters so she wouldn’t have to walk all the way here."
"Well why didn’t you call me?" she asked.
"None of us brought our phone."
"Nobody thought to bring their phone?" she then asked more irritably.
The witches, Jacin and George, and Leticia, the hippie, shook their heads.
"I hate to be a bother," Cameron interrupted as she struggled to pull herself out of the wagon. "But if you all don’t mind, I need to get my legs up in stirrups and pop this kid out."
Shortly before midnight, the doctor entered the waiting room. Eddie, Jody, Jacin and George were playing canasta. Leticia was reading A Million Little Pieces, an Oprah’s Book Club selection, which she would soon regret taking the time to read. Josh slept upright in a chair, drooling on his Joe Dirt wig that had slipped askew.
"Excuse me everyone," the doctor interrupted.
Leticia elbowed Josh awake.
"She had a healthy baby boy," informed the handsome doctor. "They’re both doing very well."
"Yes! I won," stated Joe Dirt excitedly, throwing his arms up in victory.
The next afternoon, Jacin, George, Josh and Eddie returned to the hospital to visit mother and son. They first stopped in at the hospital gift shop and after much consideration bought the baby a purple plush monkey and the mother, a bouquet of pink roses.
They stepped out of the elevator on the fourth floor, signed in at the desk and were directed to Cameron’s room. Jacin slowly pushed the door open and they quietly walked into the room. Cameron, looking pale and tired, was in the bed holding her sleeping child.
"Hi," Cameron whispered.
Her friends congregated around the bed and turned all gooey over the baby.
"Have you thought of a name?" asked Eddie as he peered at the pimply-faced baby.
"Leonard Jefferson Berner."
They all exchanged a look of bewilderment. Then Josh said, "Well, at least I won the other three."
"Won what?" Cameron asked.
"Oh, well we took bets on the date and time of the birth and the sex and name of the baby," admitted Josh. "And I got all of them right but the name."
"You bet on my baby?" Cameron asked exasperated.
"Yeah we did," George said, handing an envelope to her. "Earlier today we opened a savings account for Leo’s education with the money. This is the account information, which is under your name."
"Leonard," Cameron corrected, taking the envelope. "But that’s so sweet of you guys," she continued with a smile.
"So does the father know you had the baby?" asked George.
"My mom called him last night," she replied, then hesitated. "Listen. There’s something I need to tell all of you. I’ve decided to move to Idaho Falls so Leonard can be near his father."
"What … no way!" exclaimed George.
"I know you don’t approve of Heath, but Leonard needs his father and I don’t want to raise him alone." Cameron stated.
George huffed and stormed out of the room.
To be continued …
It was Halloween night 2005.
Leticia’s Trooper zipped along Sixth Avenue toward LDS Hospital.
"Watch out!" shouted Eddie, sitting in the front passenger seat. A trickle of trick-or-treaters were crossing the street pulling a Radio Flyer wagon. Leticia swerved to miss them and blew a tire when the SUV slammed into the curb.
Cameron leaned tensely against George’s chest, her legs sprawled eagle in the cargo space. The jolt of hitting the curb started another contraction, which were occurring more often.
"Oh god, we have to get to the hospital now!" Cameron hissed through gritted teeth.
"Hold on baby," Eddie encouraged her. "I have an idea."
He jumped out of the Trooper, demanding — but also frightening — the young trick-or-treaters give him their wagon.
"Look," Eddie said unclipping the identification card from his lapel, handing it to a pint-size Jack Sparrow pulling the wagon. "My name is Fox Mulder. I’m an FBI agent and I need your wagon to get to the hospital now."
"It doesn’t really look like you," said the pirate. "And why’s your shirt undone?"
"Listen kid," Eddie retorted. "If we don’t have the key, we can’t open whatever we don’t have that it unlocks. So what purpose would be served in finding whatever need be unlocked, which we don’t have, without first having found the key what unlocks it?"
Expressed with utter confusion, Sparrow asked, "What?"
"Not exactly egregious like the real Jack Sparrow, are you kid?" Eddie snatched his identification back, cleared the contents from the wagon and strode off with it.
The trick-or-treaters stood awestruck, watching the rude FBI agent, a couple of witches and a hippie load a very fat, bloodied, zombie-cheerleader into the wagon and then disappear into the dark.
When they pulled Cameron through the Emergency entrance of the hospital fifteen minutes later, the enigmatic agent Dana Scully was in mothering mode.
"Eddie," she started. "Where have you been, we all left the house twenty minutes ago? Why is Cameron in a wagon?"
"We blew a tire Jody," Eddie answered. "I confiscated this wagon from trick-or-treaters so she wouldn’t have to walk all the way here."
"Well why didn’t you call me?" she asked.
"None of us brought our phone."
"Nobody thought to bring their phone?" she then asked more irritably.
The witches, Jacin and George, and Leticia, the hippie, shook their heads.
"I hate to be a bother," Cameron interrupted as she struggled to pull herself out of the wagon. "But if you all don’t mind, I need to get my legs up in stirrups and pop this kid out."
Shortly before midnight, the doctor entered the waiting room. Eddie, Jody, Jacin and George were playing canasta. Leticia was reading A Million Little Pieces, an Oprah’s Book Club selection, which she would soon regret taking the time to read. Josh slept upright in a chair, drooling on his Joe Dirt wig that had slipped askew.
"Excuse me everyone," the doctor interrupted.
Leticia elbowed Josh awake.
"She had a healthy baby boy," informed the handsome doctor. "They’re both doing very well."
"Yes! I won," stated Joe Dirt excitedly, throwing his arms up in victory.
The next afternoon, Jacin, George, Josh and Eddie returned to the hospital to visit mother and son. They first stopped in at the hospital gift shop and after much consideration bought the baby a purple plush monkey and the mother, a bouquet of pink roses.
They stepped out of the elevator on the fourth floor, signed in at the desk and were directed to Cameron’s room. Jacin slowly pushed the door open and they quietly walked into the room. Cameron, looking pale and tired, was in the bed holding her sleeping child.
"Hi," Cameron whispered.
Her friends congregated around the bed and turned all gooey over the baby.
"Have you thought of a name?" asked Eddie as he peered at the pimply-faced baby.
"Leonard Jefferson Berner."
They all exchanged a look of bewilderment. Then Josh said, "Well, at least I won the other three."
"Won what?" Cameron asked.
"Oh, well we took bets on the date and time of the birth and the sex and name of the baby," admitted Josh. "And I got all of them right but the name."
"You bet on my baby?" Cameron asked exasperated.
"Yeah we did," George said, handing an envelope to her. "Earlier today we opened a savings account for Leo’s education with the money. This is the account information, which is under your name."
"Leonard," Cameron corrected, taking the envelope. "But that’s so sweet of you guys," she continued with a smile.
"So does the father know you had the baby?" asked George.
"My mom called him last night," she replied, then hesitated. "Listen. There’s something I need to tell all of you. I’ve decided to move to Idaho Falls so Leonard can be near his father."
"What … no way!" exclaimed George.
"I know you don’t approve of Heath, but Leonard needs his father and I don’t want to raise him alone." Cameron stated.
George huffed and stormed out of the room.
To be continued …
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Our Phoenix
Jacin watched George approach him on the Trax platform, a large smile gleaming. He held his arms out ready to hug George, and as they connected George evaporated – a chilling mist engulfed Jacin and his heart plummeted. He pivoted left to right searching for George, then realized the platform was completely empty of passengers and the night air dead silent. Fear overtook him, and as he started to run, he realized he was inside a large, transparent gerbil’s runabout ball. It rolled off the platform and continued rolling along the track until it dropped into an endless green sea.
The sun roared into being and beat down on Jacin, warming the trail of blood trickling from his right temple. Standing barefoot and motionless on the desert floor he stared across a valley of Pinions, the occasional apex of a cabin peeking over the trees.
Silently from behind knotted trunks — like skilled hunters — emerged George, Eddie, Josh, Leticia, Kat and Jody, each in the nude. They grouped and gingerly approached Jacin. Through his peripheral vision, Jacin picked up knee-high black patent stiletto boots filled with a woman’s legs that led to a black patent mini skirt, bare navel and black patent bustier. The full body materialized into pop diva Rihanna. She was holding a large cardboard Publisher’s Clearing House check made out to Jacin Reese in the amount of two million dollars, and was singing an operatic version of "Disturbia." Jacin’s friends, mud swallows, hummingbirds, jack rabbits and mule deer gathered around Rihanna and joined in verse like seen in a Disney film.
Shimmering in a gold leotard, Jacin was being whipped around on Lagoon’s Wicked ride, his head painfully vibrating against the back of the seat. Around and around the ride took him, never-ending, ad nauseam. In the third rotation the vehicle jerked to a halt 70 feet up the 110-foot tower. Jacin peeled open his eyes focusing in on the slate blue sky. From deep within the flat, lingering clouds — looking down at him like mythological gods — were his mother, father and twin brother Jeff. They were whispering to each other, but Jacin could not hear nor understand what was being said.
But what he could hear in the distance was a faint humming, and several seconds later a yellow and red PT-17 Stearman biplane came into view. The pilot — clad in a brown bomber jacket and matching flying cap, goggles and white silk flying scarf — waved at him as he flew overhead. Jacin then realized it was Eddie, and in the seat behind him sat Snoopy, dressed similarly and flashing a MetLife flag. Puffs of smoke billowed from the rear of the plane forming a message. When Jacin read the first few words, he recognized it as a poem that Eddie had written for him several years ago while dating. The sky read:
Reborn again our Phoenix has risen in Magnificent design;
His envious idealism
Color his feathers in boundless elegance.
His wicked eyes
Emulate a renewed youthful humor.
His beak conspicuous,
Yet earnest in character.
This renowned being, unwavering in conviction
Is embodied in the souls passed flight over.
And each year and decade to come,
With each immolation, our Phoenix will rise
Stronger and more beautiful in our eyes.
And in centuries to pass, long after we are gone
Our Phoenix will be reborn in the generations of our kin.
Jacin’s eyes filled with emotion, forcing him to blink — pushing a tear out and rolling off his cheek. The god-like image of his mother reformed, but this time he could hear her say, "He’s crying."
Then Jacin’s chest turned heavy and his body temperature increased to a prickly warm. The bar that restrained him in the vehicle suddenly unlatched. His body, weightless and hot, floated upward. Frightened and uncomfortable, he flailed for something concrete.
From the distance a fiery mass, like a meteor, plummeted towards him. But instead of annihilating him, it enveloped him like a blanket. Jacin suddenly felt safe, revitalized and at peace inside the magenta, gold and red flames. Like a movie trailer of his life, he could clearly see himself and George being legally married in Utah, then a black man in the Oval Office, then himself in New York City taking photos of the Freedom Tower and oddly, then himself accepting a check for an undisclosed amount from Rihanna.
To be continued...
The sun roared into being and beat down on Jacin, warming the trail of blood trickling from his right temple. Standing barefoot and motionless on the desert floor he stared across a valley of Pinions, the occasional apex of a cabin peeking over the trees.
Silently from behind knotted trunks — like skilled hunters — emerged George, Eddie, Josh, Leticia, Kat and Jody, each in the nude. They grouped and gingerly approached Jacin. Through his peripheral vision, Jacin picked up knee-high black patent stiletto boots filled with a woman’s legs that led to a black patent mini skirt, bare navel and black patent bustier. The full body materialized into pop diva Rihanna. She was holding a large cardboard Publisher’s Clearing House check made out to Jacin Reese in the amount of two million dollars, and was singing an operatic version of "Disturbia." Jacin’s friends, mud swallows, hummingbirds, jack rabbits and mule deer gathered around Rihanna and joined in verse like seen in a Disney film.
Shimmering in a gold leotard, Jacin was being whipped around on Lagoon’s Wicked ride, his head painfully vibrating against the back of the seat. Around and around the ride took him, never-ending, ad nauseam. In the third rotation the vehicle jerked to a halt 70 feet up the 110-foot tower. Jacin peeled open his eyes focusing in on the slate blue sky. From deep within the flat, lingering clouds — looking down at him like mythological gods — were his mother, father and twin brother Jeff. They were whispering to each other, but Jacin could not hear nor understand what was being said.
But what he could hear in the distance was a faint humming, and several seconds later a yellow and red PT-17 Stearman biplane came into view. The pilot — clad in a brown bomber jacket and matching flying cap, goggles and white silk flying scarf — waved at him as he flew overhead. Jacin then realized it was Eddie, and in the seat behind him sat Snoopy, dressed similarly and flashing a MetLife flag. Puffs of smoke billowed from the rear of the plane forming a message. When Jacin read the first few words, he recognized it as a poem that Eddie had written for him several years ago while dating. The sky read:
Reborn again our Phoenix has risen in Magnificent design;
His envious idealism
Color his feathers in boundless elegance.
His wicked eyes
Emulate a renewed youthful humor.
His beak conspicuous,
Yet earnest in character.
This renowned being, unwavering in conviction
Is embodied in the souls passed flight over.
And each year and decade to come,
With each immolation, our Phoenix will rise
Stronger and more beautiful in our eyes.
And in centuries to pass, long after we are gone
Our Phoenix will be reborn in the generations of our kin.
Jacin’s eyes filled with emotion, forcing him to blink — pushing a tear out and rolling off his cheek. The god-like image of his mother reformed, but this time he could hear her say, "He’s crying."
Then Jacin’s chest turned heavy and his body temperature increased to a prickly warm. The bar that restrained him in the vehicle suddenly unlatched. His body, weightless and hot, floated upward. Frightened and uncomfortable, he flailed for something concrete.
From the distance a fiery mass, like a meteor, plummeted towards him. But instead of annihilating him, it enveloped him like a blanket. Jacin suddenly felt safe, revitalized and at peace inside the magenta, gold and red flames. Like a movie trailer of his life, he could clearly see himself and George being legally married in Utah, then a black man in the Oval Office, then himself in New York City taking photos of the Freedom Tower and oddly, then himself accepting a check for an undisclosed amount from Rihanna.
To be continued...
Thursday, August 28, 2008
10 Minutes
Jacin was completely unaware of how fate would step in this day and forever change his life. When he strolled out of the dark, smoke-filled bar, he was thrilled about what was held in his hand. He noticed the air was fresher than he could remember in many weeks, which elated him even more.
He once again glanced over the divorce documents that Jody had just served on him. Soon he would hand them over to George at the Trax station, hoping they would spark many days of lost conversation and intimacy.
Back inside the bar spirits were also high, though more because of the magnitude of the spirits being drank by Jody, Kat, Josh and Eddie. On the other hand, learning he had made friends with his boyfriend’s wife put Josh well into an intoxicated state that his friends amicably call "doing the T. rex" — bounding heavy-footed through the bar, arms pulled in and dangling close to his chest, and ranting incoherently to anyone who’d try to listen. On more than one occasion this behavior led to speed-dialing Taxi Jerry, the good-humored, photo-snapping taxi driver who catered to the community. (You never step out of Taxi Jerry’s cab without at least two incriminating photos of you licking someone’s face, smoking three cigarettes at once or flashing the taxi next to you at a red light.)
Fearing further embarrassment by Josh, Eddie called Taxi Jerry. Luckily, it was still early enough in the evening that Taxi Jerry wasn’t backed up with calls, and he told Eddie he’d be at the bar in 10 minutes. The trio rounded up Josh and made it out of the bar with very few more casualties.
When Taxi Jerry’s plum-colored cab pulled up to the curb, the foursome packed into the backseat like sardines, instructing their typical after-bar stop at Beto’s Mexican restaurant for nachos, smothered burritos and horchata.
Jacin glanced at his watch, finding that the train was now 10 minutes late. This coupled with the seemingly unattended toddler running amuck on the Trax platform was now diminishing his spirit. He shifted himself on the bench, closed his eyes and pictured a romantic and intimate rest of the night with George. Suddenly he felt a light pressure on his legs, much like when his Maine Coon cat Freddy Kreuger jumps in his lap. The young girl that was bouncing about the platform was now draped over his legs, a huge smile shining around her two front teeth.
Her arm was extended, offering Jacin what looked like a chewing gum wrapper.
"Thank you," he said taking the gift, a bit annoyed that whomever the girl’s parents were, they should be smacked upside the head with a dipshit stick for allowing her to interact with strangers.
The little girl quickly dropped off his lap and ran off in search of more Pearls of Refuse.
Just as Jacin drifted back to thoughts of George, he heard the train approaching like an arrow through trees. He opened his eyes, checked his watch again: 8:52 p.m. He looked down the track and noticed the young girl playing dangerously close to the edge of the platform. He jumped out of his seat after her.
The time was 8:52 p.m. according to the digital clock built into the dash of George’s pickup truck. He’d been waiting for Jacin for over 15 minutes, and hadn’t even seen a southbound train the entire time.
He called Jacin’s cell phone.
Straight to voice mail.
Though George felt angry, his stomach suddenly contracted like being jerked awake by a nightmare. Fearing the worst, he started the truck and squealed out of the parking lot headed for the station he assumed Jacin would have gotten on the train.
When George approached the station, he noticed some commotion, several people huddled in a group. He slammed the truck into park and barreled out of it. He could hear a small child wailing as he neared the platform, and through the interval spacing of the crowd of people, he could see the body of a man lying motionless on the concrete surrounded by a smattering of paper.
To be continued…
He once again glanced over the divorce documents that Jody had just served on him. Soon he would hand them over to George at the Trax station, hoping they would spark many days of lost conversation and intimacy.
Back inside the bar spirits were also high, though more because of the magnitude of the spirits being drank by Jody, Kat, Josh and Eddie. On the other hand, learning he had made friends with his boyfriend’s wife put Josh well into an intoxicated state that his friends amicably call "doing the T. rex" — bounding heavy-footed through the bar, arms pulled in and dangling close to his chest, and ranting incoherently to anyone who’d try to listen. On more than one occasion this behavior led to speed-dialing Taxi Jerry, the good-humored, photo-snapping taxi driver who catered to the community. (You never step out of Taxi Jerry’s cab without at least two incriminating photos of you licking someone’s face, smoking three cigarettes at once or flashing the taxi next to you at a red light.)
Fearing further embarrassment by Josh, Eddie called Taxi Jerry. Luckily, it was still early enough in the evening that Taxi Jerry wasn’t backed up with calls, and he told Eddie he’d be at the bar in 10 minutes. The trio rounded up Josh and made it out of the bar with very few more casualties.
When Taxi Jerry’s plum-colored cab pulled up to the curb, the foursome packed into the backseat like sardines, instructing their typical after-bar stop at Beto’s Mexican restaurant for nachos, smothered burritos and horchata.
Jacin glanced at his watch, finding that the train was now 10 minutes late. This coupled with the seemingly unattended toddler running amuck on the Trax platform was now diminishing his spirit. He shifted himself on the bench, closed his eyes and pictured a romantic and intimate rest of the night with George. Suddenly he felt a light pressure on his legs, much like when his Maine Coon cat Freddy Kreuger jumps in his lap. The young girl that was bouncing about the platform was now draped over his legs, a huge smile shining around her two front teeth.
Her arm was extended, offering Jacin what looked like a chewing gum wrapper.
"Thank you," he said taking the gift, a bit annoyed that whomever the girl’s parents were, they should be smacked upside the head with a dipshit stick for allowing her to interact with strangers.
The little girl quickly dropped off his lap and ran off in search of more Pearls of Refuse.
Just as Jacin drifted back to thoughts of George, he heard the train approaching like an arrow through trees. He opened his eyes, checked his watch again: 8:52 p.m. He looked down the track and noticed the young girl playing dangerously close to the edge of the platform. He jumped out of his seat after her.
The time was 8:52 p.m. according to the digital clock built into the dash of George’s pickup truck. He’d been waiting for Jacin for over 15 minutes, and hadn’t even seen a southbound train the entire time.
He called Jacin’s cell phone.
Straight to voice mail.
Though George felt angry, his stomach suddenly contracted like being jerked awake by a nightmare. Fearing the worst, he started the truck and squealed out of the parking lot headed for the station he assumed Jacin would have gotten on the train.
When George approached the station, he noticed some commotion, several people huddled in a group. He slammed the truck into park and barreled out of it. He could hear a small child wailing as he neared the platform, and through the interval spacing of the crowd of people, he could see the body of a man lying motionless on the concrete surrounded by a smattering of paper.
To be continued…
Thursday, July 31, 2008
A Hairy Situation
Josh’s career as a corporate wet rag took its daily toll on his fragile psyche, which usually led to several missed workdays a month. On the extra trying days, his mind swimming in regret, he’d reflect on younger times when he believed he would be the next Tom Cruise. Images of afternoons spent in his bedroom practicing dance moves in white briefs and a dress shirt or mimicking Maverick’s badass personae in Top Gun: "You don’t have time to think up there. If you think, you’re dead," reeled a dream far left behind.
Somewhere along the way, life turned on him and now his career was that of a thrill-less number-cruncher. Many a day he’d sit through hours of mindless meetings, unwarranted tirades from superiors and varying levels of contempt for the hoards of overweight coworkers with whiney attitudes, surly expressions and a 42-ounce Diet Coke clutched in hand.
Today, it made Josh cringe, forcing a desire to slap the ignorance out of every single one of them.
He desperately needed a drink.
The one person at work Josh could stand was Keri, a recent hire, whose laugh caused contagion and whose body, Josh believed, was that of a 12-year-old Dolly Parton.
They hit it off on Keri’s first day of work when she intuitively asked Josh if he had a boyfriend.
"Ummm ... no, not really," he replied. "I mean I’m sort of seeing someone, but it’s sort of complicated."
Nodding, Keri said, "Yeah, I get it. My husband’s a bit puzzling at times."
"How long have you been married?"
"Two years, three months, six days."
"That’s real specific."
"Don’t get me wrong, I love him, but sometimes he’s such a girl."
"Ah, a feminist are you?" Josh asked.
"Hell, I smoke cigars," Keri replied, a devilish smile on her face.
Josh sneaked up behind Keri at her desk, sucked his forefinger and stuck it in her ear.
"Aaagh ... don’t give me a wet willy, who knows were that finger’s been," she lightly demanded, drying out her ear.
"Let’s blow this Shallow Hal convention and grab a drink somewhere," Josh said.
"Not exactly a humanitarian are you?"
"Please, I steal candy from babies."
They ended up at The Trapp, a gay watering hole with a loyal late-morning clientele ... or maybe they just wake up on their barstool each morning with a cricked neck and a parched mouth.
Josh sometimes wondered if the rickety, weathered-wood structure that housed the wake-n-tank crowd could withstand an earthquake or a tornado, if another ever hit the city. It would be a real shame to lose another gay bar at the hands of the homosexuals’ venial and mortal sins.
Josh ordered a Bud Light from the boisterous bartender and asked Keri what she wanted.
"I’ll have a whiskey and coke," her reply aimed at the bartender.
"Damn, you got hair on your chest or something?" asked Josh.
"Probably less than you have on your ass," Keri retorted.
"Actually my friend, Eddie, is the one with a hair diaper."
"Nice visual, thanks. Is he your complicated someone?"
As they approached the doors to the patio, Josh noticed Eddie, Jacin, Kat and Jody through the ceiling-to-floor window.
"Well, why don’t you ask him yourself," he said pointing outside. "That’s him right there."
High octave chatter erupted as Josh opened the door to the patio. They approached the table; empty shot glasses — like chess pieces — were strategically placed. The overflowing plastic ashtray confirmed Josh’s suspicion they had been there awhile.
Jacin was the first to notice them and jumped out of his chair. Then in unison, Eddie, Kat and Jody ejected themselves from their seats, extremely spirited, as if they hadn’t seen Josh in years. They each offered overzealous hugs and sloppy kisses to Keri, as if they had known her for years.
Two more chairs were pulled up to the table, another round of Washington Apples ordered and the interrogation by Josh’s friends commenced: from "Are you Mormon?" to "Are those your real tits?" to everything in-between.
When asked about her husband, Keri dug into her purse, pulled out a wallet and flipped through some photos.
"This is him, my husband Mark," she indicated by tapping the photo and passed the wallet to Jacin.
When it made its way around the table to Josh, he immediately recognized the handsome man in the photo. His eyes pulled to the familiar cleft chin that he’s kissed and licked many, many times.
"Josh, are you okay," asked Eddie. "You’re looking paler than usual all of a sudden."
"Ummm ... yeah, fine," he quietly answered, handing the wallet back to Keri, unable to look her in the eyes. "I need to go to the bathroom, buddy system?"
"Sure," Eddie replied.
They had barely gotten over the threshold from patio to bar when Josh blurted out, "Keri’s husband is the guy I’ve been dating."
Eddie stopped Josh by grabbing his arm, looked him in the eyes and began laughing hysterically.
"Shit, Josh, befriending your boyfriend’s wife isn’t exactly keeping it on the DL," Eddie said, regaining composure.
"That’s just great, real compassionate of you Eddie," Josh said and stormed off to the bathroom.
"Of course you could ask Jacin’s wife, Jody, for pointers," Eddie called after him.
Josh gifted him with a little birdie.
To be continued…
Somewhere along the way, life turned on him and now his career was that of a thrill-less number-cruncher. Many a day he’d sit through hours of mindless meetings, unwarranted tirades from superiors and varying levels of contempt for the hoards of overweight coworkers with whiney attitudes, surly expressions and a 42-ounce Diet Coke clutched in hand.
Today, it made Josh cringe, forcing a desire to slap the ignorance out of every single one of them.
He desperately needed a drink.
The one person at work Josh could stand was Keri, a recent hire, whose laugh caused contagion and whose body, Josh believed, was that of a 12-year-old Dolly Parton.
They hit it off on Keri’s first day of work when she intuitively asked Josh if he had a boyfriend.
"Ummm ... no, not really," he replied. "I mean I’m sort of seeing someone, but it’s sort of complicated."
Nodding, Keri said, "Yeah, I get it. My husband’s a bit puzzling at times."
"How long have you been married?"
"Two years, three months, six days."
"That’s real specific."
"Don’t get me wrong, I love him, but sometimes he’s such a girl."
"Ah, a feminist are you?" Josh asked.
"Hell, I smoke cigars," Keri replied, a devilish smile on her face.
Josh sneaked up behind Keri at her desk, sucked his forefinger and stuck it in her ear.
"Aaagh ... don’t give me a wet willy, who knows were that finger’s been," she lightly demanded, drying out her ear.
"Let’s blow this Shallow Hal convention and grab a drink somewhere," Josh said.
"Not exactly a humanitarian are you?"
"Please, I steal candy from babies."
They ended up at The Trapp, a gay watering hole with a loyal late-morning clientele ... or maybe they just wake up on their barstool each morning with a cricked neck and a parched mouth.
Josh sometimes wondered if the rickety, weathered-wood structure that housed the wake-n-tank crowd could withstand an earthquake or a tornado, if another ever hit the city. It would be a real shame to lose another gay bar at the hands of the homosexuals’ venial and mortal sins.
Josh ordered a Bud Light from the boisterous bartender and asked Keri what she wanted.
"I’ll have a whiskey and coke," her reply aimed at the bartender.
"Damn, you got hair on your chest or something?" asked Josh.
"Probably less than you have on your ass," Keri retorted.
"Actually my friend, Eddie, is the one with a hair diaper."
"Nice visual, thanks. Is he your complicated someone?"
As they approached the doors to the patio, Josh noticed Eddie, Jacin, Kat and Jody through the ceiling-to-floor window.
"Well, why don’t you ask him yourself," he said pointing outside. "That’s him right there."
High octave chatter erupted as Josh opened the door to the patio. They approached the table; empty shot glasses — like chess pieces — were strategically placed. The overflowing plastic ashtray confirmed Josh’s suspicion they had been there awhile.
Jacin was the first to notice them and jumped out of his chair. Then in unison, Eddie, Kat and Jody ejected themselves from their seats, extremely spirited, as if they hadn’t seen Josh in years. They each offered overzealous hugs and sloppy kisses to Keri, as if they had known her for years.
Two more chairs were pulled up to the table, another round of Washington Apples ordered and the interrogation by Josh’s friends commenced: from "Are you Mormon?" to "Are those your real tits?" to everything in-between.
When asked about her husband, Keri dug into her purse, pulled out a wallet and flipped through some photos.
"This is him, my husband Mark," she indicated by tapping the photo and passed the wallet to Jacin.
When it made its way around the table to Josh, he immediately recognized the handsome man in the photo. His eyes pulled to the familiar cleft chin that he’s kissed and licked many, many times.
"Josh, are you okay," asked Eddie. "You’re looking paler than usual all of a sudden."
"Ummm ... yeah, fine," he quietly answered, handing the wallet back to Keri, unable to look her in the eyes. "I need to go to the bathroom, buddy system?"
"Sure," Eddie replied.
They had barely gotten over the threshold from patio to bar when Josh blurted out, "Keri’s husband is the guy I’ve been dating."
Eddie stopped Josh by grabbing his arm, looked him in the eyes and began laughing hysterically.
"Shit, Josh, befriending your boyfriend’s wife isn’t exactly keeping it on the DL," Eddie said, regaining composure.
"That’s just great, real compassionate of you Eddie," Josh said and stormed off to the bathroom.
"Of course you could ask Jacin’s wife, Jody, for pointers," Eddie called after him.
Josh gifted him with a little birdie.
To be continued…
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Desperation
A week had passed since the thorn of Jacin and Jody’s marriage pricked George’s heart. Tension filled their home like the hot, heavy air in a sauna. Jacin’s fervent apologies and guilt-fueled acts of redemption managed only to push the thorn in further, reminding George of Jacin’s deception.
Banished from their bed, Jacin lay outright on the living couch, an old floral bed sheet draped over his body, and Hansel and Gretel (their two dachshunds) curled up at his feet. Stephen King’s Desperation was propped open on his chest. As Jacin read: "It was not terror this thought called up in his mind and heart but despair, as if the image of Brian’s fingers laced together in his coffin proved that nothing was worth anything, that doing never once in the world stopped dying ..." his mind drifted to the memory of that frightening day eight years earlier when he rushed Jody, his then-roommate, to the hospital after she collapsed on the Gallivan Center ice rink, her knee popped out of its socket. At the time Jody didn’t carry health insurance and because of the doctor’s persistent recommendation for surgery they agreed to a shotgun City Hall wedding and an update to Jacin’s health insurance policy. The marriage was to be annulled shortly after Jody’s surgery, but because of certain hurdles in obtaining an annulment in Utah, they continually postponed it. Then, by the year’s end, they realized the tax break for married couples was worth staying married ... at least for the time being. And as years passed, the tax refunds outweighed the annulment.
Then, when Jacin and George first met each other at a mutual friend’s Halloween party, their attraction was as mysterious and brooding as the night. Jacin arrived with Eddie and Josh dressed as the original crime-fighting trio, Charlie’s Angels. George, a vampire who resembled the saddlebag-skinned George Hamilton in Love at First Bite, was quickly taken by Josh’s attire. He couldn’t help but smile as he thought to himself, "Sabrina looks like a haggard, butch Russian wrestler." As the night progressed, they walked circles around each other, sizing each other up. Finally, excitement erupted, breaking fever in their groins. They embraced, lips locking in each other’s essence. Those in the room around them disappeared from existence one at a time until Jacin and George were left alone, weightless and fused in passion.
After they returned to earth, and Marilyn Monroe, Tinkerbell, merman and others redeveloped like photos, Jacin took George’s hand and led him out to his Ford Bronco. They barreled into the backseat, giggling mischievously. They tore at each other’s costumes like rabid dogs, the stiff October air biting at their bare skin. Jacin leaned forward between the front seats, popped open the glove compartment and fumbled for a condom. Three minutes and twenty-seven seconds later, heaving chests and deep satisfied breaths had fogged the windows beyond transparency. As they lain wrapped in each other’s arms on the backseat, Jacin felt the urge to tell George of his marriage to Jody, but as the words reached his lips, they immediately disappeared. Each passing day since, the words failed to reappear.
Now George sat in bed, knees up near his chest and arms resting on them. He stared blankly at the platinum and white gold wedding band radiating from its velvet ring box resting in his hands. He thought about the man he loved who, at this moment, was 40 feet away on the couch; and he thought about the night that first began their life together. With the exception of a handful of verbal standoffs about flirting with other guys, looking at internet porn and leaving shoes in the middle of the room, George believed their love was seamless and eternal ... until now. He suddenly snapped the box shut, turned off the bedside lamp and definitively decided to return the ring the next morning.
Just as George was drifting off, the bedroom door creaked open. He opened his eyes and could only make out a beaten down silhouette of Jacin standing in the doorway.
"I love you George ... more than I know how to show you. I’m really sorry I kept the marriage from you all these years, but it’s such an old part of my past I never even think about it anymore."
George rolled over in the bed so his back faced Jacin, as if building a wall to protect himself from anymore pain.
Jacin continued, "We have a good life even with our problems, and our love for each other is strong enough to overcome the problems. This is our life ... I’ll fight for it and I hope you will, too."
Jacin hoped for a response, but none came so he slowly shut the bedroom door behind him on his way back to the couch.
To be continued…
Banished from their bed, Jacin lay outright on the living couch, an old floral bed sheet draped over his body, and Hansel and Gretel (their two dachshunds) curled up at his feet. Stephen King’s Desperation was propped open on his chest. As Jacin read: "It was not terror this thought called up in his mind and heart but despair, as if the image of Brian’s fingers laced together in his coffin proved that nothing was worth anything, that doing never once in the world stopped dying ..." his mind drifted to the memory of that frightening day eight years earlier when he rushed Jody, his then-roommate, to the hospital after she collapsed on the Gallivan Center ice rink, her knee popped out of its socket. At the time Jody didn’t carry health insurance and because of the doctor’s persistent recommendation for surgery they agreed to a shotgun City Hall wedding and an update to Jacin’s health insurance policy. The marriage was to be annulled shortly after Jody’s surgery, but because of certain hurdles in obtaining an annulment in Utah, they continually postponed it. Then, by the year’s end, they realized the tax break for married couples was worth staying married ... at least for the time being. And as years passed, the tax refunds outweighed the annulment.
Then, when Jacin and George first met each other at a mutual friend’s Halloween party, their attraction was as mysterious and brooding as the night. Jacin arrived with Eddie and Josh dressed as the original crime-fighting trio, Charlie’s Angels. George, a vampire who resembled the saddlebag-skinned George Hamilton in Love at First Bite, was quickly taken by Josh’s attire. He couldn’t help but smile as he thought to himself, "Sabrina looks like a haggard, butch Russian wrestler." As the night progressed, they walked circles around each other, sizing each other up. Finally, excitement erupted, breaking fever in their groins. They embraced, lips locking in each other’s essence. Those in the room around them disappeared from existence one at a time until Jacin and George were left alone, weightless and fused in passion.
After they returned to earth, and Marilyn Monroe, Tinkerbell, merman and others redeveloped like photos, Jacin took George’s hand and led him out to his Ford Bronco. They barreled into the backseat, giggling mischievously. They tore at each other’s costumes like rabid dogs, the stiff October air biting at their bare skin. Jacin leaned forward between the front seats, popped open the glove compartment and fumbled for a condom. Three minutes and twenty-seven seconds later, heaving chests and deep satisfied breaths had fogged the windows beyond transparency. As they lain wrapped in each other’s arms on the backseat, Jacin felt the urge to tell George of his marriage to Jody, but as the words reached his lips, they immediately disappeared. Each passing day since, the words failed to reappear.
Now George sat in bed, knees up near his chest and arms resting on them. He stared blankly at the platinum and white gold wedding band radiating from its velvet ring box resting in his hands. He thought about the man he loved who, at this moment, was 40 feet away on the couch; and he thought about the night that first began their life together. With the exception of a handful of verbal standoffs about flirting with other guys, looking at internet porn and leaving shoes in the middle of the room, George believed their love was seamless and eternal ... until now. He suddenly snapped the box shut, turned off the bedside lamp and definitively decided to return the ring the next morning.
Just as George was drifting off, the bedroom door creaked open. He opened his eyes and could only make out a beaten down silhouette of Jacin standing in the doorway.
"I love you George ... more than I know how to show you. I’m really sorry I kept the marriage from you all these years, but it’s such an old part of my past I never even think about it anymore."
George rolled over in the bed so his back faced Jacin, as if building a wall to protect himself from anymore pain.
Jacin continued, "We have a good life even with our problems, and our love for each other is strong enough to overcome the problems. This is our life ... I’ll fight for it and I hope you will, too."
Jacin hoped for a response, but none came so he slowly shut the bedroom door behind him on his way back to the couch.
To be continued…
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Nostalgic Pride
The morning revealed a calm breeze and ostrich feathers whisking through an ash blue sky, the sun stroking the top of the Uintah Mountains. The temperature would scale upwards of 85 degrees by the time Gay Pride Day, June 14, 1998 ended.
A ray of sunlight slipped through the blinds covering Eddie’s bedroom window and sprayed across his face. His eyes winced as if he was just pricked with a flu shot, then they fluttered open. His memory of the previous night painfully drowned in the several Long Island iced teas he snorkeled in at The Deerhunter.
He rubbed the haze from his eyes and glanced over at the body sprawled next to his. A small grin broke. Then he slipped from the covers and quietly skirted into the kitchen to make coffee.
Having slept through the Gay Pride Parade that had flowed through downtown Salt Lake City from the Capitol to the City-County Building at nine, Eddie decided to invite Josh, his boyfriend Matthew, and Owen over for mimosas before heading to the Pride festival. They were all sitting sporadically about Eddie’s small but functional living room when Sleeping Buddy emerged from the bedroom at a half past ten.
"Morning sunshine," Eddie said smiling, "Ready for a mimosa?" He raised his glass to him in offering.
Sleeping Buddy mumbled something indecipherable and slid into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
"Not exactly a morning person is he," Josh said.
Eddie shrugged, lifted himself from the couch and made way to the kitchen to make Sleeping Buddy a drink.
Two hours later Owen parked his Jetta on 5th South just across from the City-County Building, a lavishly-sculpted granite and sandstone structure, built in the late 1800s. The clock tower atop the center takes the perception of a giant candle on a German chocolate cake.
Hundreds of homosexuals, their children and pets, and a few of their straight counterparts were already milling about the grounds — some wandering through the couple dozen booths, eyeing rainbow emblazoned jewelry, trinkets, hats and shirts. Others sprawled out on blankets or lounging in folding lawn chairs, legs propped on coolers as if guarding the contents.
Most festival-goers were dressed casually and conservatively, and as five toe-heads (none of which were natural) approached the area, heads turned: Eddie in a spandex-polyester blend shirt illustrated with vibrant apples, red and green grapes and bananas, and lime green silk boxers; Owen shirtless in camouflage shortalls; Josh draped in a flowered spaghetti-strap summer dress and combat boots; Matthew in a cropped, white t-shirt and blue sarong, and Sleeping Buddy in Daisy Dukes and tie-dyed tank top. Each carried a travel mug or Big Gulp cup holding rum topped off sparingly with Coca-Cola.
Several familiar faces approached the group with compliments on their attire; others gave them disappointed looks that read, "How could you embarrass us like that?" The quintet wandered for about 15 minutes, watched a few uninspiring acts on the one stage, then sat together on blankets sunbathing and watching all the cliques as they hoot-n-hollered like they were the most hilarious people alive.
As the sun traveled westerly and beat down on the sun goddesses that were Josh, Eddie, Owen, Matthew and Sleeping Buddy, and as the several trips to Owen’s Jetta for refills began to strip the goddesses of their prowess, they agreed to go party poolside in Eddie’s backyard.
On the way out, an exuberantly giddy young woman (probably had been 4:20 all day for her) noticed Eddie and screamed as if she just won Publisher’s Clearing House. Stuck to her slight waist and shapeless legs was the matching pair of pants to Eddie’s shirt.
Through little persuasion (due to alcohol consumption), Eddie agreed to swap his fruity shirt for the ecstatic woman’s sweat-stained maroon top. But then was taken aback when suddenly she lifted her shirt and bare Hostess Snoball-size breasts appeared as if out of nowhere.
"I’m Eddie. This is Owen, Josh, his boyfriend Matthew," sputtered Eddie, then putting his arm around Sleeping Buddy, he added, "And this is my boyfriend Jacin."
She shook each of their hands, "I’m Trixie and this is my husband Geoff," she pointed to her handsome, but clueless companion. " ... with a G," she clarified.
After a few pleasantries, the stoned couple walked off, and as Eddie watch Trixie bound down the street — dressed neck-to-toe in fruit — he concluded her name fit the outfit, and felt charitable about trading his shirt for one that reeked like worn tennis shoes and clove cigarettes.
The boys returned to Eddie’s apartment, switched to beer, filled the plastic kiddie pool and sat waist-deep in the cold water, singing along to such hits as Will Smith’s "Getting’ Jiggy Wit It" and "The Boy Is Mine" by Brandy & Monica, blasting from the portable stereo.
Later that evening, Eddie and Jacin — being die-hard party animals — left the others crashed out on Eddie’s living room floor and cabbed it to Bricks’ post-Pride beer-bust party where they danced and made out until they were seeing double.
Their first Gay Pride Day as a couple left Eddie and Jacin plastered and truly thankful they had requested the following day off work.
A ray of sunlight slipped through the blinds covering Eddie’s bedroom window and sprayed across his face. His eyes winced as if he was just pricked with a flu shot, then they fluttered open. His memory of the previous night painfully drowned in the several Long Island iced teas he snorkeled in at The Deerhunter.
He rubbed the haze from his eyes and glanced over at the body sprawled next to his. A small grin broke. Then he slipped from the covers and quietly skirted into the kitchen to make coffee.
Having slept through the Gay Pride Parade that had flowed through downtown Salt Lake City from the Capitol to the City-County Building at nine, Eddie decided to invite Josh, his boyfriend Matthew, and Owen over for mimosas before heading to the Pride festival. They were all sitting sporadically about Eddie’s small but functional living room when Sleeping Buddy emerged from the bedroom at a half past ten.
"Morning sunshine," Eddie said smiling, "Ready for a mimosa?" He raised his glass to him in offering.
Sleeping Buddy mumbled something indecipherable and slid into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
"Not exactly a morning person is he," Josh said.
Eddie shrugged, lifted himself from the couch and made way to the kitchen to make Sleeping Buddy a drink.
Two hours later Owen parked his Jetta on 5th South just across from the City-County Building, a lavishly-sculpted granite and sandstone structure, built in the late 1800s. The clock tower atop the center takes the perception of a giant candle on a German chocolate cake.
Hundreds of homosexuals, their children and pets, and a few of their straight counterparts were already milling about the grounds — some wandering through the couple dozen booths, eyeing rainbow emblazoned jewelry, trinkets, hats and shirts. Others sprawled out on blankets or lounging in folding lawn chairs, legs propped on coolers as if guarding the contents.
Most festival-goers were dressed casually and conservatively, and as five toe-heads (none of which were natural) approached the area, heads turned: Eddie in a spandex-polyester blend shirt illustrated with vibrant apples, red and green grapes and bananas, and lime green silk boxers; Owen shirtless in camouflage shortalls; Josh draped in a flowered spaghetti-strap summer dress and combat boots; Matthew in a cropped, white t-shirt and blue sarong, and Sleeping Buddy in Daisy Dukes and tie-dyed tank top. Each carried a travel mug or Big Gulp cup holding rum topped off sparingly with Coca-Cola.
Several familiar faces approached the group with compliments on their attire; others gave them disappointed looks that read, "How could you embarrass us like that?" The quintet wandered for about 15 minutes, watched a few uninspiring acts on the one stage, then sat together on blankets sunbathing and watching all the cliques as they hoot-n-hollered like they were the most hilarious people alive.
As the sun traveled westerly and beat down on the sun goddesses that were Josh, Eddie, Owen, Matthew and Sleeping Buddy, and as the several trips to Owen’s Jetta for refills began to strip the goddesses of their prowess, they agreed to go party poolside in Eddie’s backyard.
On the way out, an exuberantly giddy young woman (probably had been 4:20 all day for her) noticed Eddie and screamed as if she just won Publisher’s Clearing House. Stuck to her slight waist and shapeless legs was the matching pair of pants to Eddie’s shirt.
Through little persuasion (due to alcohol consumption), Eddie agreed to swap his fruity shirt for the ecstatic woman’s sweat-stained maroon top. But then was taken aback when suddenly she lifted her shirt and bare Hostess Snoball-size breasts appeared as if out of nowhere.
"I’m Eddie. This is Owen, Josh, his boyfriend Matthew," sputtered Eddie, then putting his arm around Sleeping Buddy, he added, "And this is my boyfriend Jacin."
She shook each of their hands, "I’m Trixie and this is my husband Geoff," she pointed to her handsome, but clueless companion. " ... with a G," she clarified.
After a few pleasantries, the stoned couple walked off, and as Eddie watch Trixie bound down the street — dressed neck-to-toe in fruit — he concluded her name fit the outfit, and felt charitable about trading his shirt for one that reeked like worn tennis shoes and clove cigarettes.
The boys returned to Eddie’s apartment, switched to beer, filled the plastic kiddie pool and sat waist-deep in the cold water, singing along to such hits as Will Smith’s "Getting’ Jiggy Wit It" and "The Boy Is Mine" by Brandy & Monica, blasting from the portable stereo.
Later that evening, Eddie and Jacin — being die-hard party animals — left the others crashed out on Eddie’s living room floor and cabbed it to Bricks’ post-Pride beer-bust party where they danced and made out until they were seeing double.
Their first Gay Pride Day as a couple left Eddie and Jacin plastered and truly thankful they had requested the following day off work.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
The Greatest Show on Earth
Jacin and George were scurrying about the house, actually it was mostly George — Jacin frequently, and by no design of his own, was pulled into the whirlwind that was George. They were already minutes late to meet Eddie and Jody at Pib’s Exchange, a clothing exchange boutique. Their mission: to find camp-fabulous clothing, wigs and accessories for a surprise birthday drag show planned for their friend, Leticia.
Leticia was their token hetero Mormon-bred friend, growing up in a white Latter-day Saint household alongside five sister siblings named Shayla, Tasha, Leila, Tia and Maya. The group occasionally discussed the irony between Leticia’s name and her avidity for black men, especially bald ones. A winter excursion to Jamaica two years ago validated the assertion when Jacin found her on the beach in a compromising position with a local member of the hotel’s house band.
When Jacin and George finally arrived at Pib’s, Eddie and Jody already had arms full of sheer and silky blouses, psychedelic skirts and bell-bottom pants, a shoulder-length blue fabricated wig and a pair of blaze-orange, wicker-wrapped wedges.
Jody’s expression was far less than ecstatic, she only volunteered to join them because her girlfriend, Kat, was in sessions most of the day, and she was frankly bored. Jacin and George perused the racks another half hour, slipping scarves and wrap-around skirts under their arms. Jacin howled at a costume bra that, when filled with water, a scenic ocean motif with plastic floating fish comes to life. To George’s disapproval, Jacin insisted on buying it.
The group hauled their load to the cashier when George confessed, "I can’t believe I’m actually doing drag for the first time in my life ... and I’m going to be 50 in two years."
"Don’t worry, hon! The six-foot hole I’m digging should be ready by then," Jacin quipped with a big smile.
A few hours later Leticia’s birthday bash was in full swing. Jody and Kat’s spacious dining room was cleared out and turned into a makeshift stage littered in colorful balloons and stage lighting. Two black buffet-size tablecloths were hung as stage curtains separating the dining and living rooms.
Cajin Spice (Jacin) opened the show with a hilarious impersonation of Cyndi Lauper singing "She Bop." The Finding Nemo water bra was a huge hit, worth the three dollars spent on it. Up next was Juicy Fruit (Eddie) with an oddly athletic performance to "Mickey" — everyone was impressed, albeit confused, by his graceful high kicks and other cheerleading standards in black patent pumps.
As the evening progressed and the Jell-O shots disappeared, the acts also progressed to near embarrassment. Cherry Popper (Jody), who refused to do dyke drag, instead chose to perform drag queen extraordinaire Pussy Tourette’s "If I Can’t Sell It" in nothing but a red silk teddy. It started out rather sensual, but quickly turned comical when a leg of the chair being used as a prop split and she tumbled to the floor, a magnifying glass-size nipple popping out of the teddy. Needless to say her new drag name became Cherry-pop Janet.
Tipsy Turvy (Josh) closed the show as an eerily-classic Janis Joplin, singing "Me and Bobby McGee" with an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips and brandishing a half empty (or half full) bottle of vodka.
After the performers stripped their drag attire and makeup — including an awkward moment cutting the fishnet stockings from Tipper Whore (George), which were hindering blood flow through her legs — and after the dining room was returned to its original purpose, they all sat down for a late dinner.
"So what happened with the one-night stand who called you last week?" Eddie asked Josh.
"I’ve actually been meaning to tell you all, but I haven’t been sure how," he replied.
"Just spit it out," Leticia dribbled, a sunflower tiara slipping forward on her head.
"OK. Now please try to be open to what I’m about to say," Josh started. "I know how unreceptive we are to new people coming into our group, so ..."
"I can vouch for that!" Kat interrupted, then smiling at Jody.
"So I’ve been out with him a couple more times, and I still don’t know how I feel about this but ... he’s married."
"To a woman?" asked Eddie, eyes wide.
"No. To a Great Dane!" Josh retorted. "But that’s not all. Shifting uncomfortably in the chair, "He’s also a staunch Republican."
The screech that erupted from Eddie could easily have summoned a Great Dane.
Once he regained composure he said, "I don’t think I could date a Republican, let alone a married one."
"It is strange dating a married person," Kat confessed. "I’m patiently waiting for Jody and Jacin to finally get a divorce."
"Excuse me ... what did you just say?" demanded George, projecting the evilest of eye at Jacin, whose immediate thought was he may well be the one to end up in that six-foot hole.
To be continued ...
Leticia was their token hetero Mormon-bred friend, growing up in a white Latter-day Saint household alongside five sister siblings named Shayla, Tasha, Leila, Tia and Maya. The group occasionally discussed the irony between Leticia’s name and her avidity for black men, especially bald ones. A winter excursion to Jamaica two years ago validated the assertion when Jacin found her on the beach in a compromising position with a local member of the hotel’s house band.
When Jacin and George finally arrived at Pib’s, Eddie and Jody already had arms full of sheer and silky blouses, psychedelic skirts and bell-bottom pants, a shoulder-length blue fabricated wig and a pair of blaze-orange, wicker-wrapped wedges.
Jody’s expression was far less than ecstatic, she only volunteered to join them because her girlfriend, Kat, was in sessions most of the day, and she was frankly bored. Jacin and George perused the racks another half hour, slipping scarves and wrap-around skirts under their arms. Jacin howled at a costume bra that, when filled with water, a scenic ocean motif with plastic floating fish comes to life. To George’s disapproval, Jacin insisted on buying it.
The group hauled their load to the cashier when George confessed, "I can’t believe I’m actually doing drag for the first time in my life ... and I’m going to be 50 in two years."
"Don’t worry, hon! The six-foot hole I’m digging should be ready by then," Jacin quipped with a big smile.
A few hours later Leticia’s birthday bash was in full swing. Jody and Kat’s spacious dining room was cleared out and turned into a makeshift stage littered in colorful balloons and stage lighting. Two black buffet-size tablecloths were hung as stage curtains separating the dining and living rooms.
Cajin Spice (Jacin) opened the show with a hilarious impersonation of Cyndi Lauper singing "She Bop." The Finding Nemo water bra was a huge hit, worth the three dollars spent on it. Up next was Juicy Fruit (Eddie) with an oddly athletic performance to "Mickey" — everyone was impressed, albeit confused, by his graceful high kicks and other cheerleading standards in black patent pumps.
As the evening progressed and the Jell-O shots disappeared, the acts also progressed to near embarrassment. Cherry Popper (Jody), who refused to do dyke drag, instead chose to perform drag queen extraordinaire Pussy Tourette’s "If I Can’t Sell It" in nothing but a red silk teddy. It started out rather sensual, but quickly turned comical when a leg of the chair being used as a prop split and she tumbled to the floor, a magnifying glass-size nipple popping out of the teddy. Needless to say her new drag name became Cherry-pop Janet.
Tipsy Turvy (Josh) closed the show as an eerily-classic Janis Joplin, singing "Me and Bobby McGee" with an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips and brandishing a half empty (or half full) bottle of vodka.
After the performers stripped their drag attire and makeup — including an awkward moment cutting the fishnet stockings from Tipper Whore (George), which were hindering blood flow through her legs — and after the dining room was returned to its original purpose, they all sat down for a late dinner.
"So what happened with the one-night stand who called you last week?" Eddie asked Josh.
"I’ve actually been meaning to tell you all, but I haven’t been sure how," he replied.
"Just spit it out," Leticia dribbled, a sunflower tiara slipping forward on her head.
"OK. Now please try to be open to what I’m about to say," Josh started. "I know how unreceptive we are to new people coming into our group, so ..."
"I can vouch for that!" Kat interrupted, then smiling at Jody.
"So I’ve been out with him a couple more times, and I still don’t know how I feel about this but ... he’s married."
"To a woman?" asked Eddie, eyes wide.
"No. To a Great Dane!" Josh retorted. "But that’s not all. Shifting uncomfortably in the chair, "He’s also a staunch Republican."
The screech that erupted from Eddie could easily have summoned a Great Dane.
Once he regained composure he said, "I don’t think I could date a Republican, let alone a married one."
"It is strange dating a married person," Kat confessed. "I’m patiently waiting for Jody and Jacin to finally get a divorce."
"Excuse me ... what did you just say?" demanded George, projecting the evilest of eye at Jacin, whose immediate thought was he may well be the one to end up in that six-foot hole.
To be continued ...
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Coons and Canasta
The mostly-modest residents of Blaine Avenue paid little notice to (or denied the reality of) the gay couple moving into a house in their mostly-modest neighborhood. Jacin and George bought the house five years into their relationship as an anniversary gift to one other. They had started out as friends, but mutual jealousies ran rampant as they attempted to date other men. Eventually they fell into bed with one another, fell in love and argue only when the moon is full or there’s no milk in the fridge.
This being Jacin’s third long-term relationship (that is, more than eight months), he was a little nervous but also enthusiastic about sharing the responsibilities of home ownership with his lover. However, it would be only a few months later that the butterflies raiding his gut would increase when he learns his parents are moving into a duplex four houses down.
Their quaint two-bedroom rambler sits on a quarter acre of land — the backyard large enough to accommodate their two rowdy dachshunds — Hansel and Gretel. The living quarters on the main floor and the unfinished basement offer just enough intrigue for their feisty Maine Coon cat — aptly called Freddy Krueger as she could strip the lacquer off a bowling ball in two swipes. If Hansel could talk, he’d attest to this fact, though his several scars illustrate it. Coons are a bit less domesticated than other house cats, and to allow them to wander outdoors would be like a frightening cross-episode of America’s Most Wanted and Animal Planet.
With Freddy Krueger incarcerated in the bathroom, Jacin and George hauled boxes into the house from the U-Haul haphazardly parked on the front lawn. Both hot under the collar because their friends Eddie and Josh were late to help them unpack.
It wasn’t common knowledge among the group of friends that their procrastination in helping each other move residences was a conscious choice. For most of them growing roots was like planting Birds of Paradise in the arctic tundra. Plus Jacin and George packed around absolutely everything they had ever obtained since childhood.
About the time the U-Haul was half cleared and the interior of the house looked victim to a home invasion, Eddie and Josh arrived bearing two 12-packs of PBR and a bottle of cheap vodka. The usual homo-hugs followed by endearing greetings like "about time you old trolls got here!" and "listen here missy gooch, don’t make me pinch your nipples!" were exchanged.
Though it was barely noon, it was also Saturday, so beer cans were fastidiously opened and chilled vodka shots were cheered in tradition to: "Here’s to the ones that we love, here’s to the ones that love us, but to hell with the ones and here’s to us."
Less than three hours later, the U-Haul had been emptied, Josh had recapped his previous night’s escapade with a man he picked up at Club Try-Angles (whose most memorable quality was that "he’s hung like a horse on Viagra") and George had dug up playing cards for a game of canasta.
As with previous attempts at the game, the foursome bickered over scoring and the rules — it always peeved Eddie when the players would advise each other on which cards to play. Why they all enjoy playing canasta no one will ever know — to an outsider it would look similar to a murder of crows pecking at each other until bloody.
Twenty minutes into the rotation Josh’s phone abruptly cooed Britney’s single Piece of Me. After the standard pleasantries, Josh just listened to what was said on the other end and the winter pale drained from his face.
"What’s wrong?" George asked after Josh hung up the phone.
"That was the guy I hooked up with last night," Josh replied looking flustered.
"What did he say?"
"I don’t want to talk about right now ... I need a shot!"
Eddie, Jacin and George knew better than to force it out of him — he would talk about it when he was ready.
Suddenly, a high-pitch screech emanated from behind the bathroom door.
"We forgot about Freddy," George said.
He opened the door and the cat barreled out of the bathroom; Freddy nearly skid into Josh, hissed at him with contempt then scrammed down the stairs.
To be continued ...
This being Jacin’s third long-term relationship (that is, more than eight months), he was a little nervous but also enthusiastic about sharing the responsibilities of home ownership with his lover. However, it would be only a few months later that the butterflies raiding his gut would increase when he learns his parents are moving into a duplex four houses down.
Their quaint two-bedroom rambler sits on a quarter acre of land — the backyard large enough to accommodate their two rowdy dachshunds — Hansel and Gretel. The living quarters on the main floor and the unfinished basement offer just enough intrigue for their feisty Maine Coon cat — aptly called Freddy Krueger as she could strip the lacquer off a bowling ball in two swipes. If Hansel could talk, he’d attest to this fact, though his several scars illustrate it. Coons are a bit less domesticated than other house cats, and to allow them to wander outdoors would be like a frightening cross-episode of America’s Most Wanted and Animal Planet.
With Freddy Krueger incarcerated in the bathroom, Jacin and George hauled boxes into the house from the U-Haul haphazardly parked on the front lawn. Both hot under the collar because their friends Eddie and Josh were late to help them unpack.
It wasn’t common knowledge among the group of friends that their procrastination in helping each other move residences was a conscious choice. For most of them growing roots was like planting Birds of Paradise in the arctic tundra. Plus Jacin and George packed around absolutely everything they had ever obtained since childhood.
About the time the U-Haul was half cleared and the interior of the house looked victim to a home invasion, Eddie and Josh arrived bearing two 12-packs of PBR and a bottle of cheap vodka. The usual homo-hugs followed by endearing greetings like "about time you old trolls got here!" and "listen here missy gooch, don’t make me pinch your nipples!" were exchanged.
Though it was barely noon, it was also Saturday, so beer cans were fastidiously opened and chilled vodka shots were cheered in tradition to: "Here’s to the ones that we love, here’s to the ones that love us, but to hell with the ones and here’s to us."
Less than three hours later, the U-Haul had been emptied, Josh had recapped his previous night’s escapade with a man he picked up at Club Try-Angles (whose most memorable quality was that "he’s hung like a horse on Viagra") and George had dug up playing cards for a game of canasta.
As with previous attempts at the game, the foursome bickered over scoring and the rules — it always peeved Eddie when the players would advise each other on which cards to play. Why they all enjoy playing canasta no one will ever know — to an outsider it would look similar to a murder of crows pecking at each other until bloody.
Twenty minutes into the rotation Josh’s phone abruptly cooed Britney’s single Piece of Me. After the standard pleasantries, Josh just listened to what was said on the other end and the winter pale drained from his face.
"What’s wrong?" George asked after Josh hung up the phone.
"That was the guy I hooked up with last night," Josh replied looking flustered.
"What did he say?"
"I don’t want to talk about right now ... I need a shot!"
Eddie, Jacin and George knew better than to force it out of him — he would talk about it when he was ready.
Suddenly, a high-pitch screech emanated from behind the bathroom door.
"We forgot about Freddy," George said.
He opened the door and the cat barreled out of the bathroom; Freddy nearly skid into Josh, hissed at him with contempt then scrammed down the stairs.
To be continued ...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
