Robert Glazer
I hold my breath as I watch Eliot out of the corner of my eye.
His little boyfriend (or whatever he may be) is obviously obsessed with him, and is working hard to keep his attention. But Eliot doesn’t seem too into it. Actually, he seems to be into me. But still – Eliot brought someone here. That’s bad. Or good. Or – wait, I have no idea anymore, actually. But he’s not here alone.
I study them harder as they talk. The boyfriend isn’t terribly sexy, and he has a bit of a beer belly, with teeth that aren’t totally straight. But I actually like that – it means Eliot isn’t a shallow little prick, like most kids these days. The boyfriend obviously treasures him, too – anyone would. And – oh, shit.
Eliot glances at me one last time, clearly hot and bothered. The way his mouth is open, the way his eyes are hooded…it stirs something deep in me.
Then he turns with a flourish and heads for the stairs, the boyfriend following somewhat desperately behind him. I angle my body away and sigh. I’m disappointed, I can’t deny it. But I do know that I will be seeing him again. And suddenly that’s not all I know.
I have no idea how, but over the course of my stay here, I know that my path will cross with Eliot’s path. I have absolutely no idea how, but I just know this, as sure as I know the sun will rise over the lake in the morning. So the boyfriend can pull him away all he wants – I’ll be seeing him again. Somehow I am sure of it.
I reach for some champagne and steel myself for tonight’s family dinner. Whatever happens, this is about to be one hell of a funeral.
That’s when Eliot’s mother appears in front of me, a hand on her hip and a snarl on her lips. Oh, God. She didn’t see us, did she?
I take a deep breath and face her. “Mary Kate! So good to see you again! We haven’t spoken in person since I was still identifying as a heterosexual!”
“Are you really Robert?” she asks, poking me in the shoulder. We still email and text occasionally, and our banter has fallen into the brother-sister kind of thing.
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. You look like you belong on the cover of a romance novel.”
“Ha. Well, it’s amazing what can happen when you stop hating yourself – and get a little money, too. Mainly it gets you a personal trainer and some better clothes.”
“Well, whatever,” she says, finally relaxing, as she leans in and hugs me. “Tell me,” she whispers into my ear, as her familiar smell envelops me. God, it feels good to be on such great terms with her again. I can’t deny that. “I know we’re friendly now. But do you think my family is judging me for having my gay ex-husband here?”
“Not any more than they’re judging me for showing up.”
“But Mother loved you…”
“I know. That woman gave me my first Barbra Streisand CD. I’ll always love her. I’m sorry, by the way.”
“It’s okay,” she frowns. “She was in pain towards the end – I’m glad it happened pretty quickly. Did you see my son anywhere?”
My heart stops, but I try to keep it casual. “Uh, yeah. I think he was hanging around some other guy. Who’s he, by the way?”
“Ugh,” she sighs, “don’t even ask. He’s even thinking of – never mind. That’s Eliot’s mess to deal with. And speaking of transformations…”
“I noticed,” I say, more than a little awkwardly. “He certainly…grew up. Looks nothing like you, though.”
“And he never did. By the way, you heard about him, right? I guess you rubbed off a little fairy dust on him…”
I cringe. Mary Kate means well, and has always meant well – I know that Eliot’s sexuality means nothing to her. But her language surrounding the gay issue has still always been a little…rough. People just don’t understand how they can come off sometimes. My own family is downright hateful, though, and when you’re gay in the South, you learn to take what you can get.
“Yeah,” I force out. “Not sure it works that way, but…sure.”
“Keep your eye on him this week, okay?” she asks, searching me. “Things are…well, news is coming, news that’ll change his life, and I’m a little…worried, I guess.”
“News?” I ask. “Mary Kate – huh?”
But her eyes cloud over. “Nothing,” she says. “Never mind. I’ll just see you at dinner…”
She trails off and heads back to the champagne station, leaving an uneasy feeling in my stomach. She doesn’t seem like she’s in a great place, and the tone of that conversation was a little…off.
But despite it all, I smirk to myself. Sure, I’ll keep my eye on him – and hopefully keep my hands off him, too.