Christmas dinner at my parents in Milton has been very pleasant, although my youngest brother Michael, was dying to tell the family that he was gay. I whispered at the dining table, “Don’t do it now. Only Mom doesn’t know you’re gay.”
“Dad does?”
“He never said so much, but you’re sort of obvious only not to Mom. Let me be the one one to ruin Christmas. At least she expects that of me.”
I ruined nothing. I smoked weed in the backyard and went to sleep in my childhood bed, reading SOUTH by Ernest Shackleton and fell asleep dreaming of ice.
The next day I took the T into Boston. I had old friends to see. I wandered over to the MOOD on Newbury Street, where I met Kathy who had just returned from London and appeared as manic as ever. Wanting to escape called Tara at NESS and I left without saying good-bye.
Tara was sitting with a handsome blonde man. He checked my package and frowned, when tara said, “Michael, this is my boyfriend, Nolan.”
“Boyfriend?” laughed Michael. “No one has boyfriends anymore. At least not my friends. Have you slept with Tara?”
“More than once.”
“And I came every time.”
Her admission bushwhack me. I had always thought she was faking orgasms, but I evidently answered her sexual needs by existing as a fantasy, which was easy for someone protected by their parents’ money and delicate self-deceits.
After this introduction she and Michael blathered about every bar in bar. I realized once more that we had nothing in common and held no desire to assault her chunky body, recalling the scratchiness of her hairy white thighs. Our conversation went nowhere and I left, saying I might be back later.
On Newbury Street I ran into Diana, a slender fag hag from the 1270. She spun into my arms
“Nolan, I’m so glad to see you. How’s New York?”
“New York is New York.” I was a busboy at a gay ice cream shop and felt like I couldn’t make it anywhere.
“We were wondering if you would come up here for Christmas. Everyone is looking forward to seeing you.” She led me by the hand into MOOD and sat me in the office surrounded by vintage clothing smelling of mothballs to hid the scent of the dead. Kathy was not pleased to see us together and went to door saying without looking over her shoulder, “I’m going out for a drink. Maybe I’ll see you later.”
I couldn’t wait for her to leave.” She popped a ‘lude in my mouth.
Later I tried to grope Diana on a sofa.
“Sorry, I don’t like sex on ‘ludes. I just like the feeling, plus I wish you really were a fag, the it would be easy to love you.”
I could fake it.” I had been with men.
Sorry, but you can’t. You’re not angry, are you?”
“Not as long as you give me another 714.”
“50/50.”
“Okay.”
She cracked a pill in half. We dropped them. She settled into cushion and nestled close to me. Within minutes we were so happy to be together.