Epilogue

 

 

RECORDING OF a customer call taken by Pacific Northwest Cable service representative Mitzi Reniger on September 24th, 2014, at 11:31 A.M. THIS RECORDING IS USED FOR INTERNAL REVIEW ONLY. DO NOT RELEASE RECORDINGS TO THE PUBLIC.

“Thank you for calling Pacific Northwest Cable, this is Mitzi and this call may be recorded for quality assurance. How may I provide you with excellent service today?”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m… sorry? Can I help you?”

“Is this Mitzi with an i or a y?”

“This is Mitzi with an i. Two of them, in fact! To whom am I speaking?”

“Gustavo Tiberius.”

“Oh no. No, dear god, no. I mean… uh. Hello, sir. I do believe this is the first time we’re speaking. Ever. It is a pleasure to speak with you. For the first time.”

“Mitzi, Mitzi, Mitzi.”

“Is there something I can assist you with today, Mr. Tiberius?”

“I am going to do something you have never heard of before. Something you’ll probably find shocking. Prepare yourself. Mitzi, I’d like to cancel the Internet.”

“W-w-what?”

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Of course not! I just thought of a funny joke at the exact same time you said that.”

“Really. What was the joke?”

“What.”

“The joke, Mitzi. I want to hear it.”

“Um. Okay. What… um. Oh! What do you call it when Batman skips church?”

“I’m sure I have no idea.”

“Christian Bale.”

“….”

“Mr. Tiberius?”

“Okay. You got me. That was funny.”

“You’re… not laughing?”

“I am on the inside. Now, about canceling my service?”

“Do you have your Pacific Northwest Cable account number?”

*Edited to protect consumer privacy*

“Okay, I have your account. Thank you for being a loyal Pacific Northwest Cable customer for the last twelve years.”

“You said that the last time. It feels as meaningless and empty now as it did then.”

“Wonderful. Can you please verify the address?”

*Edited to protect consumer privacy*

“And your date of birth and the last four digits of your social security number.”

*Edited to protect consumer privacy*

“Okay, Mr. Tiberius. You said you wanted to cancel your Pacific Northwest Cable’s Super Xtreme Broadband Internet Service, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“I would be more than willing to help you out with that today. Now, Mr. Tiberius, while I’m opening the correct screen to process your cancelation, I’d like to ask you some questions if I may.”

“Of course you would.”

“It’s just standard procedure, Mr. Tiberius.”

“You say that, but I know what you’re doing. I’m onto you, Mitzi.”

“Oh dear. Okay. Um. How often would you say you used Pacific Northwest Cable’s Super Xtreme Broadband Internet Service?”

“Daily. Multiple times a day.”

“Oh. I… was not expecting that answer.”

“Why?”

“Well, last time you… never mind. What did you use it for?”

“Things.”

“Like….”

“Just. To look up stuff.”

“Any stuff in particular?”

“No! And if you’re insinuating that I learned how to get your mouth pregnant off of Tumblr, then I resent that remark! I really do!”

“I don’t… I’m not….”

“You know, in all honestly, I blame that on you. You were the one that sold me the Internet. The very least you could have done was warn me that places like Tumblr exist. How is it that on one page, you see a kitten sneezing into a bowl of water, and the very next, there is someone getting anally fisted? I mean, why is it like that?”

“I honestly don’t know if I’m qualified to answer that question.”

“I would be worried if you were.”

“So. You looked up things on the Internet.”

“Yes.”

“Like, on Wikipedia?”

“Sometimes. It was one of those ‘-pedia’ sites, though I’m not sure it was properly sanctioned by Wikipedia. Someone should write to them and tell them someone is copying them on the Internet, because I assume that never happens. It doesn’t seem right.”

“Okay. Sure. Why not. Did you ever go to any entertainment sites, or the like?”

“I tried to hack into Michael Bay’s website, but it turns out I don’t know how to be a hacker. Which wasn’t all that surprising.”

“Michael Bay.”

“Yes, the director. Or, in layman’s terms, the trash collector.”

“Oh. I see. Not a fan?”

“Is the sky blue?”

“Yes?”

“Right. Okay. I don’t know where I was going with that. No, I’m not a fan.”

“My nephews liked the Transformers movies.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Canceling?”

“Right. Um. Wow, Mr. Tiberius! It sure seems like you use the Internet quite a bit. Is there a reason you’re wanting to cancel Pacific Northwest Cable’s Super Xtreme Broadband Internet Service with MegaCheck Security, also known as the fastest and safest Internet experience around?”

“Yes. I managed to make the asexual hipster stoner my boyfriend and he doesn’t think I’m weird so I no longer have to look up how to be a normal person.”

“….”

“Mitzi.”

“I literally don’t know what to say to that. I’ve done this job for seven years. Seven. Years. I have scripts right in front of me that cover three hundred and forty-seven potential situations that can come up during retention calls. It feels like I have to go to customer service training every other day in order to learn new ways to face customer challenges. And not once have I ever had anyone call me and tell me what you just did. I have never been trained for this. I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh. You’re welcome? I guess.”

“So, it worked, huh?”

“What did?”

“The winkie face. You sent the winkie face, didn’t you? You sent the winkie face and now you’re in love and stuff.”

“What! Of course not! I don’t even know what you’re—hey! I thought you said this was the first time we were speaking. Mitzi! You’re a liar! And why do you sound so smug? You smug liar!”

“Hold, please.”

“What! Why are you—”

“Thank you for holding. We are here to provide you with a Cabletastic experience and—”

“Oh my god.”

“—your Cabletastic representative will be right back on the line. Did you know that you can optimize your Pacific Northwest Cable’s Super Xtreme Broadband Internet Service with MegaCheck Security? Ask your representative how you can—”

“Oh my god.”

“—have the fastest speed available and we’ll make it happen! Now, please enjoy the following preview for an entertainment experience coming soon to Pacific Northwest Cable. Dun dun duuuuuuuun. From director Michael Bay, comes a story of true love and the power of the human condition. And copious amounts of gratuitous explosions in slow motion. Michael Bay presents Michael Bay’s Tsunami Drama—”

“What! Mitzi! You take me off hold! Mitzi!”

“—a beautiful love story set against the back drop of a global warming pandemic. Cities will fall. Oceans will rise. Their love will keep them afloat. Tsunami Drama. Rated PG-13.”

“Why is this even a thing?”

“Mr. Tiberius?”

“Mitzi. Oh thank god. Listen. Please. Dear god. Please Just. Cancel. Cancel it all.”

“It’s done, Mr. Tiberius. I canceled it for you. Your Internet has been disabled.”

“Wait. What? I thought you were going to ask a billion more personal questions and then tighten the noose to try and retain me as a customer?”

“Mr. Tiberius, you got the Internet to figure out how to woo an asexual stoner hipster. You were successful. There is literally nothing I could say that would get you to keep the Internet.”

“Oh. Well. This is true. Huh. This went a lot quicker than I thought it would. Mitzi. I wish I could say it’s been a pleasure. But I can’t. So I won’t.”

“Of course, Mr. Tiberius. I even waived the fee to break the contract.”

“You did? Why would you do that? Is this some form of emotional blackmail? I swear I’ll—”

“No blackmail. No contracts. No fees. Go with the grace of God.”

“That was awfully religious-y. Don’t force your god on me, Mitzi. I don’t want your pamphlets left on my door!”

“I wouldn’t even attempt to try. Is there anything else I can do to help you today?”

“No. No, no there isn’t. Well.”

“Mr. Tiberius?”

“Hypothetically.”

“Oh no. No, no, no. Maybe you should—”

“Hypothetically. Let’s say that you were dating an asexual stoner hipster. And let’s say he’s back in LA packing up his life to move to Abby, Oregon, probably for good. You with me?”

“As much as I’m forced to be given that I cannot disconnect customer phone calls without getting reprimanded.”

“Good. Now. Let’s say you might be in love with said asexual stoner hipster. Now, this is all hypothetical, mind you.”

“Oh, of course.”

“Right. So. How might one go about informing said asexual stoner hipster that you are in fact in love with them?”

“You could just… tell him.”

“What? I’m not talking about me!”

“Right. Sorry. Hypothetically, a person could just tell the asexual stoner hipster about their feelings.”

“It wouldn’t be too soon?”

“Maybe. But not if that is what is truly felt.”

“Huh. Okay. So how do I—I mean, how does one go about admitting this?”

“You mean, like, a love confession?”

“What? Don’t ever say that to me again. Love confession, oh my god. We’re not thirteen-year-old girls reading Tiger Beat or Reader’s Digest or whatever the hell they read these days. Love confession. What the hell.”

“Uh-huh. So, hypothetically, it’s not a love confession, it’s just confessing to someone that there is love.”

“Exactly! You got—oh. I see what you did there. Goddammit.”

“But this is all hypothetical, so.”

“Right. Hypothetical.”

“Mr. Tiberius?”

“What?”

“You really love him, don’t you?”

“….”

“It’s okay if you do.”

“I’m not sending him a goddamn winkie face, Mitzi, so get that out of your head right now.”

“I think it’s sweet.”

“Oh gross.”

“Just tell him that, then.”

“What. Like. I love you?”

“Mr. Tiberius, please. I have a husband.”

“Oh my fucking—”

*Customer disconnected phone call*

 

 

“SO WHEN does he get back?” Bernice asked as she leaned against the counter at the Emporium.

“Why?” Gus asked, rubbing Harry S. Truman’s belly as the ferret tried to gnaw on his fingers.

“No reason,” Bernice said. “He’s been gone three weeks and I just want to make sure everything is going smoothly.”

“She’s already decorated the room at the house she’s going to use when she kidnaps him,” Betty said. “I caught her researching where to purchase chloroform and what is the safe amount to use on a person without causing any long-lasting damage.”

“Hmrph,” Bernice said. “I have wide and varied interests such as decorating and knocking people unconscious so I may keep them subdued more easily. That has absolutely nothing to do with Casey.”

“Should I be concerned here?” Gus asked.

“Absolutely not,” Bernice said. “Casey probably just will need to go on a six-month business trip in the near future where he won’t be allowed to have any contact with you. Because of business.”

“Oh good lord,” Bertha said, standing in front of the C section. “I had to sit through a remake of Charlie’s Angels which was essentially a cinematic abortion, only to find out there’s a second one?”

“I don’t know,” Betty said. “I’d Drew her Barrymore any day of the week.”

“Yuck,” Gus said. “That was potent.”

“Yeah,” Bernice said. “I’d Cameron her Diaz.”

“It’s like I can taste it,” Gus said, grimacing.

Bertha sighed. “I suppose I must Lucy her Liu then.”

“This can’t possibly be sanitary,” Gus said. However, it was enlightening, and maybe one day, he’d finally have the coverage to ask if they were ménage dykes or sisters. He couldn’t quite say one way or another yet. He hoped he’d never walk in on them Drewing their Barrymore if it turned out to be a polyamorous situation. He didn’t think his heart could take it.

Casey had been gone twenty-two days, not that Gus was keeping track. At all. Granted, it’d been a quiet couple of weeks without him, a flashback to life before. Gus was not a fan of the life before. Luckily (well, depending upon how you look at it), Casey felt the need to text Gus constantly about anything and everything. Gus had received such gems as meat sammich 4 dnnr and U r kewl <3 and Saw Cgull fghtng chkn burrito WTF *\o/*. He was getting better at understanding texting, but there were times it was like Casey was speaking using hieroglyphics and Gus most definitely was not ancient Egyptian.

Casey was supposed to be back in a week, and Gus was ready for it. He’d told himself it was fine that Casey was gone, that he’d survived almost thirty years without him. Truth be told, he wasn’t fine. Not that he’d admit it to anyone, but Gus missed Casey more than he thought he would. It was absolutely ridiculous, though. Obviously Gustavo Tiberius did not pine and therefore did not sit around moping and waiting for his boyfriend to return so they could skip off into the sunset—

“You’re moping,” Bernice said.

Gus glared. “That’s not even remotely true. And stop reading my mind.”

She shrugged. “It’s a thing I do. I can’t help it.”

“Liar. Prove it.”

“Fine. I’ll read your mind right now.”

“Fine. Go ahead. See if I care.”

Gus resolutely did not think about Casey.

“You’re thinking about Casey.”

“Goddammit.”

“It’s okay to miss him,” Bertha said. “He’s a big part of your life. It’s hard when that goes away for a while.”

“I’m fine,” Gus said. “It’s only one more week.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Betty said. “Who knew you could be so smitten with someone.”

Gus scowled at the We Three Queens. “Never use the word smitten to describe me ever again. What the hell.”

Lottie came in a moment later, her drag queen hair trailing behind her. “Ladies,” she said. “And Gus. I have your egg salad.” She set the sandwich on the counter.

Gus looked at it suspiciously. “Are there pickles in it? God help you if there are pickles in it.”

Lottie rolled her eyes. “No pickles, Gus. There have never been pickles. There will never be pickles.”

“I have to check,” Gus said. “For all I know, one day you’ll decide to take revenge against me for some perceived slight and put pickles in it.”

“Ah,” Lottie said. “But then I wouldn’t even tell you, though, would I? I would just want to see your face when you bit into a pickle. The satisfaction that it would bring me would be immense.”

“I don’t want it,” Gus said, sliding the sandwich back toward her. “Take your revenge food and leave my store forever.”

“Cadet!” Betty said. “Inspirational message for the day!”

“Ooh,” Lottie said. “Right. I forgot to ask you this morning.”

“That’s because you made me list all costume design nominees in the 1950s,” Gus grumbled. “I’m not your circus elephant. You can’t make me do tricks on command.”

Lottie patted the back of his hand. “You sort of are our circus elephant.”

“I’ve seen you eat peanuts,” Bernice said helpfully.

Gus rolled his eyes. “I don’t think you—”

“Cadet!”

“Ugh. Fine. The message said that today was the first day of the rest of my life and that I should make the most of it. Honestly, I’ve always hated that expression. If today is the first day, then what the hell was yesterday? Or tomorrow? What if today was the only day? I could walk home tonight and be hit by a bus or a meteor or whatever. Stupid.”

They stared at him.

It was cool. He was used to it.

However, he was not used to them… lingering.

Lottie had brought him his food. She should have gone back to her shop.

The We Three Queens had gotten their movie and harassed him. They should go back to their den of lesbian triads (or sisterly affections).

But they were lingering. Even after letting him vent about stupid inspirational messages that he most certainly did not adore at all, they were still here. He finished his complaining for the day and fell silent.

But they didn’t leave.

Gus narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?”

“Nothing at all,” Bertha said immediately.

“I don’t do things,” Bernice said.

“Of course you don’t, dear,” Betty said.

“You’re a Suspicious Sally,” Lottie said.

“That’s not a thing,” Gus said.

“It’s a thing,” Lottie said. “Everyone knows it’s a thing.

“You’re loitering on my premises,” Gus said. “All of you. Why?”

They smiled at him.

“Are you going to sacrifice me?” Gus asked. “Is that what this is?”

“Of course not,” Bernice said. “You’re not a virgin.”

“That’s… not comforting,” Gus said.

“Do we need to have a reason to want to spend time with you?” Bertha asked.

“Yes,” Gus said.

“Maybe we just want to see your face,” Betty said.

“You could take a picture,” Gus said. “And then leave.”

“You heard him, ladies,” Lottie said. “Gus wants a selfie. Everyone smoosh in.”

“What? That’s not what I said! No smooshing. No smoosh—oh, goddammit.”

They all crowded around the counter, smooshing Gus. Lottie held up her phone in front of them and the flash went off.

“Did you know they make things called selfie sticks?” Bertha asked as they uncrowded Gus. “You put your phone on the end of it and then it has further reach for the photo.”

“That sounds literally like the worst thing ever invented,” Gus said. “If I saw anyone using that, I would punch them in the liver.”

“Of course you would,” Betty said. “We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I wouldn’t be caught dead—”

Gus’s phone rang, a monophonic beep.

“Even his phone rings like it’s sad,” Bernice whispered quite loudly. “Do you think it knows it’s outdated?”

Gus wanted to scowl at her, but Casey was calling and he couldn’t stop the smile on his face. It was terrible.

“Aww,” all the ladies said.

“Oh my god,” Gus muttered. He connected the call. “Gustavo Tiberius speaking.”

“It’s so weird you do that, man,” Casey said, sounding amused. “Every time I call.”

“It’s polite,” Gus said. “Just because you kids these days don’t have proper phone etiquette.”

“Oh boy,” Casey said. “There’s the Grumpy Gus I know. You miss me?”

Gus was well aware the others could hear the conversation loud and clear. He was also aware he had a reputation to maintain. “Hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Really.”

“Yes.”

“Gus.”

“Casey.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Gus mumbled into the phone, blushing fiercely as the We Three Queens and Lottie tittered at him like little birds.

“Yeah? How much?”

Gus was in hell. “A lot,” he said truthfully. “There have been allegations made against my person of pining and moping. False allegations, mind you, but allegations nonetheless.”

“I know what you mean,” Casey said. “The guys were saying the same thing about me.”

Gus smiled. “How embarrassing for you.”

“Completely. You have no idea.”

“They’re going to get you packed up this week?”

“Ah, yeah. Sure. Something like that.”

“Casey.”

“Yes, Gustavo.”

“You’re being cagey.”

“I have no idea what you mean. Hey, man. That’s a nice Hawaiian shirt you’ve got on. Pink? I don’t think I’ve seen you in that color before.”

Gus shrugged. “Pastor Tommy had a shitload of them. I think I could wear one every day for the rest of the year and not repeat. I think he may have had a bit of a….” Gus trailed off when his hand started shaking. Then, “How did you know what I was wearing?”

There was a knock on the window to the Emporium. Gus looked up.

Standing on the sidewalk was Casey. His hair was pulled up in a messy bun, strands hanging loosely around his face. His beard had gotten fuller in the last few weeks, and Gus wondered what it would feel like against his cheek. He was wearing bright green skinny jeans and a white and red shirt that proclaimed him to be a member of the 1987 Pasadena Bulldogs Women’s Softball team. His glasses were sitting on top of his head. He looked ridiculous. And like the greatest thing Gus had ever seen.

Casey waggled his eyebrows at Gus. “Hey, man.”

“Hi,” Gus croaked.

“Come over here, but stay on the phone, okay?”

Gus didn’t even argue, unable to take his eyes off Casey. He hadn’t expected him for another week, but here he was on a pretty Saturday afternoon, standing outside the Emporium like it was no big deal.

Gus went to the window, and Casey smiled that lazy smile.

He said, “Hi.”

Gus said, “Hi.”

“So, I’ve spent the last two days driving back,” Casey said. “Tried to make it a surprise, you know?”

“I’m very surprised,” Gus managed to say, about ten seconds away from busting through the glass just so he could hug Casey close.

The smile widened. “Good. I’ve had some time to think about things, man. About a lot of things. And I came to this realization as I drove past Weed, California. Gus. It was called Weed, California. It was a sign.”

Gus didn’t even try to stop the eye roll. “Oh my god.”

“Right? Kismet. Because right when I entered Weed, California, I was thinking about you and it hit me. Gus, it hit me.”

“What did?”

Casey put his hand up against the glass. Gus did the same on his side. “Hey, Gus?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to ask you a question, okay?”

Gustavo’s throat felt very dry. “Okay.”

“It’s all right.”

“I know.”

“What was the Oscar winner for Best Song in 1984?”

Automatically, Gus answered, “Stevie Wonder for the movie The Woman in Red. The song was ‘I Just Called to Say I Love You.’” It was fine, of course. Because he knew the answer to the question. He knew all those things. He didn’t know why Casey wanted to—

And then he could barely breathe.

Casey’s smile wobbled a little bit. “Okay?”

Gus blinked the burn away. He nodded as best he could.

And Casey said, “Yeah, man. I love you too.”

Gus didn’t even care that he dropped his phone then. All that mattered was getting as close to Casey as humanely possible. He threw open the door to the Emporium and suddenly found himself with an armful of hipster. Casey laughed wetly into his neck and Gus just held on as hard as he could. He thought that it was possible that he might never be in a position to let go. For some reason, that didn’t bother him in the slightest.

(Nine thousand, two hundred, and eighty-one days before he died, a man named Thomas Tiberius held his son in his arms for the very first time and tearfully said, “Look at you. Just look at you. Your little hands. Your little face. My god. Your little face. I never realized. I never thought it could be like this. Hello. Hello, little Gustavo. I love you. I love you. I love you. Oh my god, my son, I love you.”)

 

 

LATER, AFTER everything had calmed down, while the We Three Queens and Lottie wiped their eyes and Gus finally let Casey go (but continued to hold on to his hand tightly), Casey frowned and said, “Huh.”

“What?” Gus asked, trying to ignore how happy he sounded. It really was the worst.

He shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I was just thinking about a question I had, man. For the We Three Queens.”

“Oh?” Bertha said. “What question?”

“If your question is to ask if you can come and live with me and write me stories, the answer is yes,” Bernice said with slightly crazy eyes. “Always yes. Forever yes.”

“Rein it back in, dear,” Betty said.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Casey said. “It’s personal.”

And Gus knew what he was going to ask.

Holy.

Shit.

Finally.

“But you all have different last names,” Casey continued. “And I can never tell. So, don’t take this the wrong way, but are you sisters? Friends?”

“Or in a polygamous lesbian relationship,” Gus whispered in Casey’s ear.

“Or in a polygamous lesbian relationship,” Casey said.

The We Three Queens smiled and joined hands, curling their fingers into one another’s.

“It’s so funny you should ask that,” Bertha said.

“We thought it was obvious,” Bernice said.

“Exactly,” Betty said. “Why, anyone can see that we’re—”