by V. L. Locey
“You took a wrong turn in Augusta, boy,” my father called from the doorway of his church. I leaned on the fender of my rental, the day’s heat already collecting on my brow and the back of my neck. Folding my arms over my chest, I stared at the still strong man gripping the jambs tightly. Barring me from entering his sacred domain, as if I ever wanted back inside. He stood tall, not bowed by age. His hair was still dark brown, or appeared to be, the shadows embracing him made seeing any gray impossible.
“Nope, no wrong turns. I came out here to tell you something,” I replied, the sun now peeking over the tops of the trees. I lifted a hand to shield my eyes. A blowfly flew past my ear, the smell of manure from the chicken farm down the road luring the insect in the direction of the stench.
“There’s only one thing I want to hear from your mouth,” he stated, his words spoken with the fire of a preacher living his faith. “Did you come here to repent your sins and denounce the evils of homosexuality?”
“No sir, I did not. I came here to tell you my truths, which are that I’m happy, my family loves me, my friends and teammates accept me as I am, and I have the adoration and support of a good man.”
“Your soul will rot, and I will not pray for you,” he shouted, his fervor easily stoked by the sight of his queer son. “I will let you face the fires of the devil’s domain without so much as a word spoken to save you!”
“Yeah, that’s okay with me. I figure God knows the right of things a whole hell of a lot better than you do.” I pushed off the fender, lowered my hand, and walked around my car.
“Don’t bother coming back here again!”
“I don’t plan to.” I slid behind the wheel, wishing my hands weren’t shaking so, and cranked the engine over. The door to the well-weathered church closed and I backed out into the road, never once looking back at the red cross or the town of Billows Ridge.
When I was dropped off at the hotel, I walked right into the team congregating in the lobby.
“Where the hell have you been?” Victor barked, stalking up to me with his phone in his hand. “We’ve been trying to contact you for hours.”
“Ah, sorry. I took a drive out to where I grew up. There’s no service out there,” I lied. Half-lied I guess. There was service about forty minutes outside of Billows Ridge, I’d just left my phone off, because I’d needed time to process making that final cut to my past.
“What the shit kind of boondock place did you grow up in?” Kalinski asked, while waving men out the door as the bus had just pulled up.
“It’s not important. We ready to head back and get us a win on home ice?” I shouted to the team. They all cheered in reply as they filed out of the door. Climbing onto that bus I was a mish-mosh of emotions, some sad and some knotted, but mostly I was feeling relief. Chucking off a millstone like the one I’d carried for so long certainly made my back and soul happier. As did being back in Cayuga.
Maybe it was the fact that we ran over the Cottonmouths during the next game. And I mean we ran them over. It was one of those near perfect games that happen once every millennia where anyone with a cougar on their sweater could do no wrong. Maybe it was the fact that my man and I were one tiny nudge from tumbling off the cliff of heavy infatuation into the sea of love. I tended to think it was a combination of those two things with the fact that I’d just marched in my first pride parade. Ever. With my boyfriend.
How I wished we were having this parade in Cayuga, but that town wasn’t quite big enough or ready for a pride parade. Maybe next June. Corning was, though. We filled that lovely city with so much rainbow love it should have colored the Chemung River red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet.
The parade had weaved its way through quaint streets and into the Gaffer district. We ended up at the Corning Clock Tower in Center Square. It was a lovely pavilion area with lamp posts, trees, flower pots, and benches. A small stage had been set up and local LGBT performers had been invited to participate. Town and the Foxes weren’t performing until eight at night, so we had all day to hang out with our friends. Town pulled me to a cart selling something called a spiedie. Turned out it was sandwich made with cubed chicken, pork, or beef served on a long soft bun. A marinade was drizzled over the meat as well, so we took our food and drink to a bench, and in what would probably be the most disgusting display of besotted idiots, fed each other small chunks of sandwich. I dabbed his chin with the wad of napkins I’d grabbed, and he dabbed mine. It was sickening, and I loved every damn second of it. Not even the arrival of Victor and his snark could dampen my spirits. He and Dan had brought Jack along, and if ever a child was ready for pride, it was Jackie Blue Kalinski.
“You look all kinds of ready to celebrate pride,” I said, as the lad climbed up and sat smack dab between me and Town. He smiled widely, but his real attention was on the spiedie sandwich in my hand. I offered him a bite which he greedily took. “You ever feed this child?”
His father chuckled. “Nope, not a crumb. You can tell how malnourished he is by looking at his Buddha belly.”
“Did you deck him out?” Town asked, taking a moment to dab the juice running down Jack’s chin.
“Nope, he dresses himself. Always. He goes back and forth. One day he’s all about Iron Man on his underwear—when he wears them—and the next he wants a pretty dress and glittery things on his ears. He’s the king of self-expression.”
“So I see,” I replied, then gave the lad another bite of my lunch while I admired his outfit.
He was decked out in a white T-shirt that read I Heart My Daddies, but the heart was a rainbow heart, which kind of matched the bouncy rainbow heart headband that made his long, paprika-colored hair stand up. He’d opted for a silky pink skirt and purple socks that clashed terribly with his orange sneakers and big green sunglasses.
“Papa give me glasses for to wear in the sun,” the child informed me.
Dan shrugged, his one arm resting on Vic’s lower back. “They used to be mine, but I outgrew them.”
“Yeah, last year,” Vic teased as he held out a sippy cup for his son. The lad took it and drank long and hard. A band hit the stage and started a sound check. Jack jumped up and started dancing to the one-two-three, one-two-three. “Buddy, yo, wait for the tuneage man.”
We had had a nice laugh, and once more I was struck by how much I missed having a four-year-old in my life. When the real music started, Jack was the center of attention. Crowds began to gather around the stage and I grinned madly at the beautiful and diverse couples I saw.
“Here we are, sorry, we missed the parade. Lila had a shoe emergency,” Mario announced as he strutted up to our bench, his kilt slapping his knees. He had Lila’s boy with him. The teenager gave us the required nod and then disappeared to hang out with his friends.
“Where is she?” I yelled to be heard over the hard rock band on stage. The lead singer was quite good, her vocals were gritty as sandpaper.
“She’s working the booth for the trans rights group that operates out of Albany right now. Later she’s slated to host the bands for an hour, and then after that she’s going to sit here on my lap and let me feed her a spiedie,” he shouted.
That Lila was a busy woman. I hoped to be able to be half as civic-minded as she was after the season ended. I vowed then and there to donate as much time as I could to the youth center project she, Ben, and Town were working so hard to set up.
Jack entertained us for a bit with his amazing hootchie-coo dance then Mitch showed up with Sander, Mateo, and Noah. The foursome blew into our little middle-age and people with kids clump like a tornado, all shouts and energy and displays of affection that made me blush like a shy, virginal flower. Town leaned over to kiss my cheek as the rowdy level around our bench climbed skyward, and that helped my shock level lower a bit.
Jack had decided to sit on my lap while he was eating the rest of my sandwich. His father stood behind us, sippy cup in hand, red ball cap that read Make America Bi Again on his head, his hand down the
front of Dan’s shirt a bit. Everyone was so demonstrative. I wished I could get past my hang-ups, but holding hands seemed to be about as much as I could do in front of other people.
“I’m such a fuddy-duddy,” I told Town as I bounced Jack on my knee.
“You’re just you. No labels or bad names. Just be you,” he replied.
Jack looked over his shoulder at me. “Love who you is.”
“I’ll make sure to do that,” I chuckled as a new band came on, this one a mellower kind of soft rock sound I enjoyed greatly. Kids raced past with balloons and shiny rainbow bracelets. People had pride pups on leashes. The sun was warm on my shoulders and the top of my head, but I had no interest in moving. I had never felt this kind of acceptance in my whole life.
Then two men pushed through the crowds and spied us. They jogged in our direction. I looked back to Mario, who was smiling ear-to-ear and then back at August Miles, who also was beaming.
“Augie, my son, my son!” the kilted Cougar roared, as he gathered the younger man into a massive hug. The rest of the rainbow faction of my team were all over the two men, slapping backs and kissing cheeks. I shook hands with Sal and then August. It didn’t slip my notice that they held onto each other throughout all the greetings.
“We’re going to need a bigger bench,” Sal commented wryly when August wriggled in beside me. “I’ll stand back here.”
Sal slid behind us, his hands resting on August’s wide shoulders as Augie and Dan chatted away about Boston. Dan had been called up once before and then sent back down, so he knew the city a bit. Victor had come down from the pros and never went back. Kalinski was busy with his boy, so perhaps he’d be spared this talk of things that would never be again for him, playing for the pros, that is.
“Welcome back to Cayuga,” I said to August, when Dan raced off with Vic to chase down Jack, who’d spied a pride pooch. “I’d like to introduce you and Sal to my steady, Townsend Harris. Town, this is August, he used to play for the Cougars before the pros gobbled him up, and his boyfriend Sal, whose father owns the cleaning company that Mateo works for.”
“One big happy family,” Town said with a smile, shaking hands with Sal and then August. Mario ran off to find Lila, so she could visit with August and we snorted when a stiff wind lifted his kilt.
“That was almost too much, Mario,” August tittered, leaning back into his man a bit.
Victor moseyed on over. Dan and Jack were petting a golden retriever with a rainbow bandana round his neck. Town nestled into my side and I draped my arm around his shoulder.
“Tough break in the finals,” I said to August.
His lips flattened a bit before he sighed and shrugged. “Yeah, we’re lucky we made it that far, to be honest. I think we’re looking at a minor rebuild next season. We’re seriously lacking in skilled forwards who can finish. I mean, me and Minkoff can only do so much. Team has to score.”
Sal rubbed August’s neck lightly as the young goalie spoke. It was obvious the man was starved for tactile. They’d been doing long distance for quite some time now. I recalled those days away from my family and loved ones. It sucked.
“You think you’ll be there for the rebuild?” Mitch asked, breaking the kind of silent lock I’d made about discussing the expansion draft with Victor around.
August shrugged. “I don’t know, buddy. Minkoff has a no-move clause so he’s protected, and they have to put up a goalie.”
“If you go to Baltimore, you’ll be the starting goalie, right?” Mitch enquired.
Sander lingered on the periphery, trying to look like he wasn’t interested, but he was. He had to be. This could be his future, and he had two men in the area that he loved. If he got called up or sent to a new AHL feeder team, what would he do about Mateo and Noah? Seemed Vic and Sander were sitting in the same leaky boat.
“Maybe, I mean…it depends on who they pick.”
“No matter where he is next season, Boston or Baltimore, I’ll be there with him,” Sal announced, then smiled at the icy-cold water bottle that Dan waved at him. It seemed Arou-Kalinski had made a run to the drink stand just to our left.
“Wow, really?” Mateo asked, his sight flickering from Noah and Sander slow dancing to some timid soft rock song back to Sal. The older man nodded. Older. Well, older than all the others here apart from me. Guess Sal was the older one and I was the ancient one. “You sure you can get a job so quick?”
Dan handed Jack off to Vic, so he could pass out water to the Cougars gathered around this lone bench. Both Arou-Kalinski men looked tense.
“I’m pretty sure,” Sal continued. “Both cities have big hospitals, and good orderlies are always in demand. We’re just waiting for the draft to take place, so I know which hospitals to apply to.”
“Yeah, this living apart stuff sucks. I’m sick of only seeing him once a month, if that.”
Sal bent to grab a soft kiss from August. “Also, since I asked him to marry me last night, I guess we’ll have to be in the same city for the marriage to work out.”
Everyone in the immediate vicinity fell on the newly engaged couple. August glowed like an oil lamp. I pulled Town closer to my side and kissed his head. Perhaps, someday, if the good Lord were kind, there might be vows and rings for us.
You might have to work up the courage to tell the man you love him first, you scaredy-cat.
I held my man to me and we spent several hours in the shade of a couple of young trees, laughing and talking with the team, welcoming Mike Buttonwood and his wife and young daughter when they showed up just before Town was going onstage.
“Sorry we’re so late,” Mike said, as he bumped shoulders with August in that Hey-buddy! kind of nudge we men are so fond of. “We had a wedding in Ithaca and just got back. Here’s her earmuffs.”
He handed pink muffs to his wife and they secured them to their little girl’s head. There was a drag queen on stage lip-syncing to Gaga’s Born This Way and the music was quite loud. Dan and Vic had about given up trying to keep the white earmuffs they’d brought along on Jack’s head. He’d gotten violent about them the last time his father had tried to make him wear them. Now though, he seemed to be less cantankerous and more worn out, so when Vic slipped the muffs over his ears, the toddler mewled and burrowed into Lila’s arms, then passed out. She wrapped the sleeping boy in a light blue, pink, and white transgender flag she’d been wearing like a superhero’s cape all day.
I was feeling rather done in myself, but my man was about to hit the stage and I was surrounded by tolerant, amazing people, so my exhaustion was buoyed by the crowd. And my friends, of course. Oh, and the man now walking out to thunderous applause. People all over this area loved the Studebaker Foxes. Town was so skilled. I wondered, not for the first time, why he wasn’t touring the country with his band playing to sold out arenas. I’d have to ask him about that sometime. For now, I was about as contented as I could be. Hearing him play would be the whipped cream topping to one of the best days of my life.
“Thank you all and thank you for attending pride!” The crowd shouted and waved rainbow flags. “Before we break out the blues, I’d like to take just a minute to say that I’m here today with my new boyfriend. Come on and stand up, baby!”
Everyone in the plaza, probably hundreds of people, turned to find this new boyfriend the blues god was talking about. My mouth fell open and my ears started buzzing. I was way past shocked. I was stunned into stupid. My sight stayed locked on Town standing on the stage, a soft blue light shining on him, making him look sexy and cool and so beautiful. Victor nudged me in the side. My heart sped up. I pushed to my feet and then climbed onto the bench I’d lounged on all afternoon.
“I am Townsend Harris’s boyfriend!” I shouted, and then blushed fiercely when everyone around us clapped for our declaration. Mario clapped my back. Dan gave me a hug. Victor handed me a hankie. I stood on the bench throughout Town’s show, which was absolutely rocking, shouting encouragements to the man I was so enamored with. When th
e Foxes wrapped up with a rendition of Pride and Joy with the genders changed from feminine to masculine—that brought the house down, I met him coming off the stage. He was sweating and sticky, but I threw my arms around him and kissed him with all I had. Right there in front of all the world.
“Are you mad?” he panted after the kiss broke. “Once I did it I was sick to my stomach that you’d be mad about being public like that.”
“I. Am. Not. Mad.” I punctuated each word with a kiss. “What I am is in desperate need of loving. Let’s head home, take a shower, pour some wine, and make love like official boyfriends do.”
The nervous tightness around his mouth disappeared. “Let me help the guys load up the equipment and we can roll.”
An hour later we were finally on the road. Night was just peppering the sky with stars. It was that twilight time when the last touch of the sun was still visible, but so were the first stars of the evening.
I couldn’t stop sneaking peeks at Town in the passenger seat as we made the ninety or so minute ride home. He’d catch me, smile sinfully, and my cock would get just a little harder. I decided to stir up some conversation before we were going at it alongside of NY-414.
“Okay, so, you need to explain to me why you’re not out there touring the world with a big, fat record contract in your back pocket. You’re amazing.”
He chuckled then turned down the radio a bit. “You’re biased.”
I nodded. “Totally, but it’s not just me. Everyone who hears you play is blown away.”
“That’s nice to hear, but I’m not as good as all that. I mean…” I glanced over when he paused. He seemed to be deep in thought. “I’m pretty good to people here in the Finger Lakes region. But to the rest of the world I’m not that good. Does that make sense?”
“Not in the least.”