“DID SOMEONE ASK FOR A superstar?” Basil asked as he waltzed into the kitchen where we were set to film. James already had the camera rolling in anticipation of Basil’s grand entrance.
One of Basil’s daily tasks was to prepare the breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the guests should they choose to eat at the resort’s restaurant.
I wouldn’t go as far as to call it a restaurant. It was more like a downgrade from a small diner, but with the same cleanliness and charm.
I noticed how the crew’s eyes zoomed in on Basil. It was hard not to. His presence was like a shiny new fishing lure dropped in the water. We were all hooked.
“Pink,” I said, wiggling my finger around my neck area to indicate his scarf.
He gave the scarf a light toss over his shoulder. “I prefer to call it rosé, honey. It’s fancier. And it matches my apron. Food safety rules. Do you like?”
He spun in it as if it were a dress. The front said kiss my grits.
There was some laughter in the room. Basil ate it up. So did I.
“So, why this resort?” I asked, diving right into the questions.
He moved through the kitchen like he’d done it a million times. Pans were set on the stove, burners ignited. The oven was preset. A juicer was placed beside a blender. It was magic watching him move, like a dancer on a stage.
“You know, people are so quick to think there has to be some big explanation behind why people make the decisions they do. As if each of us actually thinks things through before we do them. I mean, sure, some of us might plan ourselves to death, but what most don’t realize is that you can’t plan life, honey. It does whatever it wants whenever it wants.”
I looked to James for guidance. Basil was going to be hard to keep on point.
Basil turned to the camera, spatula aimed at it. “But to answer your question, I didn’t choose this resort. It chose me. I was driving home from work, and decided to take the scenic route. That’s when I came across this place. It was the name. Bare Freedom.” He closed his eyes as he said it, chin lifted, as if he were speaking to the heavens. “I remember pulling off. Putting my car in park. The afternoon heat licking my forehead as I stood in front of the gates.
“There was a young man there. He was nude, and I should have felt uncomfortable, but I didn’t. I was curious. He explained a little of what the place was, and then gave me a pamphlet. The next week, I told my wife I had a business trip to attend over the weekend. I came here. And the rest is history.”
I instantly took my thoughts back. He was going to the best subject I’d ever worked with.
BY THE TIME THE BREAKFAST rush was over, Basil was tossing his apron aside and guiding us back to his place. He lived on the other side of the park where the employees stayed. His cabin overlooked the lake, sidled up with river rocks and mulch. Spring came to mind as I took in his place. He kept a small garden in front. Richly colored flowers and herbs sprouting up from the earth, leaning out like hands reaching for his care.
His porch had a rocking chair painted in a flurry of colors. Fabric in hues of bright yellow, pinks, and oranges were draped from the trusses. There were painted pots with blooming shades of purples and rich blues.
“It’s a bit extra, I know, but what’s a home without character?”
The crew waited outside as James did his best to capture the essence of Basil through his things.
“Is that your son?” I asked, pointing to the picture beside his bed. It was of Jeremiah, not Basil, dressed in a well-tailored suit. No evidence of colorful scarves or bright eye shadow. He had an arm around the neck of another man who looked like a younger version of him.
“It is,” Basil said, the pride in his voice filling the room like a puffed-up chest. He picked up the picture, eyes gazing adoringly at the photo. “I spoke with him this morning, and he agreed to be a part of this.”
“He did?” Excitement surged through my veins.
Basil seemed as if he could burst through the roof, straight for the sky. As if he had his own machine and Wonka had told him he was the winner.
“I didn’t think he would,” he continued, his eyes misting over. “We’ve only just begun repairing our relationship… I didn’t want to force anything on him he wasn’t comfortable with.” He laughed, the sound soaked in nerves. “I… uh… he only found out I was gay a couple of years ago.”
“Oh, I didn’t know,” I said.
His eyes caught mine. “Everyone has secrets.”
“Does he know…” I paused, trying to find the politically correct way of asking, only to come up short.
“Does he what? Know I like to dress feminine?”
“Yeah.”
Basil’s eyes dropped. “I wanted him to be comfortable. Throwing all of this,” he said, showing off his body, “in his face… would have been a lot to take in. Just getting him to accept why I’d left, and that I was gay was hard enough. He’s always seen me as his dad, with the image of what a dad is supposed to be from TV and movies impressed in his mind. He’s narrow-minded in that sense.”
Eyes widening, I cut my gaze to James before returning it to Basil. “So will you go as Jeremiah, or as Basil?”
I felt for him when he sat on the edge of his bed. Rested the portrait carefully back where it was, and then settled his gaze on his fingernails painted lilac. “Both,” he said, looking up to the camera like a well-trained actor. “I’ll go as both. I am both. I love both.”
A warmth spread through the air as we smiled at each other.
“Good,” James said. “That’s a wrap.”