Chapter 2
Last chance for peace and quiet, he thought, listening to his car tick slowly into oblivion, such as he himself would be, soon, ticking into the past where he had been—nothing, a russet haired little boy hooked on exploring toy nurses’ kits, much to his parents’ dissatisfaction and his brother’s amusement.
The car told him it was three P.M. He’d gotten to the airport at four P.M. yesterday. All he wanted to do was hug his parents, go to his old room, and fall face first onto his old bed. He’d called from the airport, and expected to be welcomed by a suddenly opening door with his parents, Marj and Hal, bounding through it to come and greet him. Instead, for all the cars there were, nothing happened. He stretched as he got out of the car, thinking, I can’t breathe this air; it’s soup. Humidity, he’d forgotten about the humidity here. He walked up to the front door, taking advantage of being alone to scratch a few places that itched. He got to the door, rapped once, and opened it.
They screamed it from every part of the living room and even the kitchen and dining room. “Surprise!” and “Happy Birthday!” and “Welcome Home!” His first thought was, Damn, I should have peed at the airport.
* * * *
“You remember Marcia? Your old girlfriend from high school?” asked his mother, hugging a pregnant young woman to her. “She and Dudley have three plus this one on the way! Miriam is just over the moon!” (These could have been mygrandchildren, you idiot; no, she didn’t really say that, but Peter knew she was thinking it.) Peter smiled and winced when the other three children, two little girls and an older boy, came running through the dining room where he was sitting at the head of the table, stuffed full of dinner and cake and just a little bit drunk, courtesy of his brother Dick.
Dick was sitting across from him, sipping what he had said was just plain soda. It wasn’t. Dick was feeling no pain either, and the girl he had on his lap, whom he had introduced as Koko, was blowing in his ear. “Marcia, Marcia, Marcia,” whined Dick as the young woman left the room to chase down her children.
“Dudley, as in Dudley-Dude, right? The brute on the football team?” Peter asked.
Dick nodded. “You know she was cheating on you with him, right?” And added, when Peter’s mouth fell open, “You didn’t, did you!”
Koko said, “You’d look good as a redhead, Petey. Come to the salon tomorrow and I’ll do you—up!” She laughed at her own joke. At least, Peter hoped it was a joke. “And maybe some eyeliner, yes?”
Well. At least someone knew he was gay. Dick did; Dick had figured it out before Peter himself had. It made him laugh, remembering. Laughing reminded him he hadn’t hit the bathroom yet and desperately needed to. He yawned as he stood up and excused himself. He ducked through the living room, trying not to catch people’s eyes, and made it halfway down the hall before coming upon his sister kissing her boyfriend Ned. He tried to pass them but they turned, so his hands ended up on Ned’s hips instead of his sister’s.
“Excuse me,” Peter said, embarrassed. Darcy opened one eye and glared at him. “Phoo!” she said, sticking out her tongue. She was twenty; Dick was twenty-four, so they were all four years apart. “I have to go to the little girl’s room,” she blurted, letting go of Ned and sliding down the hall.
Peter stood staring after her, wondering if it would be quicker to wait, or make his way upstairs and use one of the bathrooms up there. He realized he still had his hands on Ned’s hips. And he had a pee boner. And the hall was narrow and he was pressed up against Ned’s butt, which wasn’t a bad thing, except, you know, straight guys and having to pee and all that. “Oh, hell no,” he said.
“Oh, hell, yes,” said Ned. Ned turned around. “Is that for me?” he asked, reaching down and pressing his hand between them.
Peter thought he would faint. He could feel that, somehow, Darcy had not necessarily picked the straightest branch off the tree this time. Ned felt, oh I don’t know, Peter thought, maybe a bit conflicted? Being tired wasn’t helping this, neither was the gin he’d had. Nor the beer. He wanted to ask Ned if he was straight or what, but when he opened his mouth, his breath came out funny, and he realized that their faces were only inches apart.
“So, Darcy tells me you’re gay?” Ned asked.