“I can handle it,” Gavin assured me.
“I’m not a public figure and never intended to be. But Daniel is. He’s also very honest, so this isn’t an easy game for him to play. But he accepts it as the fastest way to put an end to something neither of us ever wanted. We feel like we’ve been backed into a corner, so we’ll play the game for a few months, then we can both move on with our lives.”
Violet nodded, took a bite of food, then dropped her fork again. “Months? There’s more, isn’t there?”
“Yes,” I said. “I need to apologize to you both. I gave you a hard time about the apartments we looked at because I couldn’t be honest with you.” I told them about Gretchen’s insemination and our December due date. “When we first started looking at apartments, we didn’t know if Gretchen was pregnant. Then I got too busy to worry about moving. But when I do, I need a place big enough so that my child can occasionally spend nights with me.”
“Congratulations,” Gavin said, grinning at me. “It’s great that you’re going to be a father.”
“I already suspected as much,” Violet said, also smiling, “after hearing that Gretchen was pregnant. I’m happy for you both.”
“Don’t worry; you won’t end up being nannies,” I promised. “Gretchen is already interviewing people for that position. Her health is my main concern. Her doctor wants her to avoid stress as much as she can, so she doesn’t need to be subjected to what my other friends are going through. Plus, this is the one thing I want kept private, no matter what. Gretchen and I are not exactly Rolling Stone cover material like Melissa Etheridge and David Crosby, but as far as I’m concerned, any press is bad press when it involves my child. If Daniel and I appear to be a happy couple, no one will try to dig up dirt about us. And on the bright side, at least we’re being honest that we’re gay. You never know. That could help someone.”
“It will,” Gavin said. “Including you and Daniel. You shouldn’t worry about pretending that you’re a couple. I think the well-being of an expectant mother is a pretty compelling reason to do what you’re doing.” He looked at Violet and added, “I admire honesty, but I’ve never been a fan of outing. People should be allowed to share things about themselves on their own terms.”
“Yeah, it’s too bad Lola Listeria took that choice away from Daniel and me,” I said. “So you two are okay with this?”
“Yes,” Violet said.
“Totally,” Gavin agreed.
“Good. Can we eat now? Violet’s getting a Dexterish look of hunger in her eyes,” I said.
That night I went to Gretchen’s to watch the interview. The network had chosen the most dignified, understated of their entertainment reporters to question us. It was hard watching myself on television, but fortunately Daniel was the main focus, and I admired his poise and his ability to keep things light. His publicist had prepped us, but Daniel’s innate acting ability helped him carry it off.
Although I’d been with him and already knew what he was going to say, I found myself affected by his description of how it felt to have our privacy invaded and our lives turned upside down. Even when I spoke, the camera couldn’t stay away from Daniel, whose face conveyed affection for and approval of me. I was sure that if we hadn’t been honest with our small group of friends, they would never have guessed that we’d arrived separately, spoken very little to each other, and parted quickly after the interview was over.
Gretchen turned off the television, looked at me, and burst into tears.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Is this another hormonal moment?”
“No,” she said, taking the Kleenex I held out. “I’m sad because it’s not true. You’re doing this to protect me and the baby, but I want it to be real. I feel like it’s my fault that it’s not.”
“Daniel and I broke up months before you and I made our decision.”
“I know, but you almost got back together at the wedding. Why can’t this be real? Why can’t the two of you stop fighting and work this out?”
“Please don’t get upset. That’s exactly what we’re trying to avoid.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “But what about you and Daniel?”
“Did we look like we were suffering?”
“Not on camera.”
“We’re tired of being at the mercy of people like Lola Listeria. You have no idea what a relief it is to finally feel in control of this situation. If anyone’s going to tell lies about me, dammit, it’s going to be me.”
Gretchen managed a weak smile and said, “You’re awfully good at it.”
“He’s an actor. I’m in advertising. Would you expect less?”
“Hand me the phone and go home,” she ordered. “It’s time for your friends to do a postmortem.”
“I wanna hear,” I whined.
“No. Trust me, the phone lines will be busy, and you’re better off not knowing.”
“Why? Did I look fat on television?”
“Are you still here?” she asked.
I laughed, gave her a hug, and left as she was dialing the phone. My cell phone rang before I was a block from her building, and I looked at the display with a smile.
“You’d better be calling to tell me how good I looked,” I said.
“You both looked great,” Ethan said. “You came across as intelligent and funny. I’m afraid it’s going to be a while before you bore them into leaving you alone.”
Over the next couple of weeks, thanks to anonymous calls from Gavin and Violet tipping off the press, Daniel and I were “caught” going to the movies, having dinner together, and attending a performance at Lincoln Center. On each occasion, we’d be as affectionate as possible and offer a quick sound bite professing our love for each other. Other than a photo in the New York Times “Styles” section capturing Daniel and me shopping on Madison Avenue, captioned, “Can dashing Daniel liven up bland Blaine’s fall wardrobe?,” reactions to our stepping out as a couple were favorable.
Gavin was able to confirm what Daniel’s publicist, Ronald, had told us might happen. Requests and calls from the mainstream media dropped off when the story began to be perceived as less of a scandal than as “another gay couple trying to promote their agenda,” as one of my least favorite talk show hosts put it. With occasional guidance from Violet and painstaking coordination with Ronald, Gavin began providing us with lists of interviews and public appearances to choose from.
Daniel’s friend, Andy Vanedesen, owner of Club Chaos in Greenwich Village, hosted a benefit at his club for God’s Love We Deliver, which we attended. Andy talked Daniel into singing one song, and Daniel dragged me on stage with him. Holding hands, smiling, and ending with a kiss, we sang “Together, Wherever We Go,” much to the delight of the audience. It was actually a nice evening for us, and I started feeling hopeful that our ruse might have a positive outcome. Pictures of us embracing with microphones in our hands ran in HX and NEXT magazines the following week.
Our social calendar began to fill with a cavalcade of confusing acronyms. I’d dash home from work to change and discover which group would be garnering an appearance from Daniel and Blaine, Gay Supercouple.
“I know I just came from the office, Gavin,” I said one night, “but could you call Violet and ask her to memo the Deity shooting schedule to the other departments? What am I dressing for? Where are Daniel and I going tonight?”
Gavin consulted his PalmPilot and said, “Tonight is ELBOW.”
“Who’s elbow?” I asked.
“Empire Lesbian Bowlers of Woodside,” he said.
“You’ve got to be kidding. We don’t bowl. We’re not lesbians. What could they possibly want with us? Is it too late to back out?”
“Tonight is their Bowling for Breast Cancer benefit,” Gavin explained. “You and Daniel will show up, tell a few jokes, introduce the league president, bowl a little, and have your picture taken. Oh, yeah, and have fun.”
“Why was I thinking tonight we were supposed to be dancing somewhere? I would’
ve remembered ELBOW. I thought you said something about dancing. Or a bake sale. Not bowling.”
Gavin shook his head and said, “No. You’re thinking of BACON. Bears and Cubs of Newark. You and Daniel are judging their dance marathon this weekend. The bake sale for SIQC is tomorrow.”
“Sick? Is that a health group?”
“Staten Island Queer Coalition,” Gavin clarified.
At every event where Daniel and I cut ribbons, spoke, or put in an appearance, we were photographed hand in hand, smiling at each other. If the press asked about our relationship, our only comment was that we were simply a couple in love offering support to our gay brothers and sisters.
Unfortunately, the social whirl began taking its toll. What we didn’t let anyone see were the arguments that began to precede and follow every appearance. The problems that caused our breakup remained unresolved and added to the tension. Sometimes, smiling for the camera, we’d whisper terse comments through clenched jaws, squeezing each other’s hands a little harder than necessary. I endured it, hoping that sooner or later these meaningless fights would force our more serious issues to surface.
The most significant, immediate payoff of our farce was that the more approachable we became, the less our friends were bothered. There was only one reaction I’d been anxious about, and it came in an e-mail.
Hi Uncle Blaine,
Boy, once you decide to do something, you do it in a big way. I thought it was a big deal when you came out to my mom and dad, but now you’re doing TV interviews and all kinds of stuff. It’s kinda cool, kinda like having someone famous in the family. Not that anyone in the family talks about it. It’s like it’s happening to everybody but us.
Remember the time you saw me at that PFLAG meeting? I know I probably didn’t seem glad to see you, but I didn’t know what to think about you being there. I was afraid you’d say something to my mom or dad or someone. I didn’t think about how you’d have to explain what you were doing there, too, until later. But I’ve thought about things a lot since then. You asked me then if I was gay, and I said I was confused. That’s what I tell people when I’m not sure how they’ll react. But I wasn’t really confused, and if I was even a little, I’m not now. It’s just not easy to be gay, in Eau Claire, and a Dunhill all at the same time. I guess you know that. I wish sometimes I could be anywhere but here.
I told my family that I’m gay. I figured if you could do it, so could I. Mom cried, and Dad walked out of the room. We don’t talk about it, and that sucks. But I’m not going to be someone I’m not just so everyone else can be comfortable. I don’t think Chuck and Tony were surprised.
I decided to come out to a few of my friends. No big deal. Everyone basically said, “Yeah, I already knew,” or “I thought so,” or “Really? Cool.” One of the other kids at PFLAG warned me that I should watch out for bashers. But I’ve always done that. I’m careful what classes and teachers I take. You learn pretty quick who you can count on, and to find a way out of PE or stuff like that.
If there’s one thing I’d like to know, it’s when you knew about yourself. I’ve always known I wasn’t like everyone else. I just didn’t know what it was about me and couldn’t figure out how come I didn’t fit in. Was it like that for you, too?
Gotta go.
Nick
Remembering Ethan’s warning that teenagers tell us what they think we want to hear, I put everything else on hold and wrote a long response, describing the adolescent fear and denial that had led to my dating Sheila and marrying Sydney. I told him how much I admired his courage and honesty, reminding him that if things got difficult, he could talk to his PFLAG contacts, especially Jeremy. Finally, choosing my words with care, I assured him that he could always tell me anything, especially about problems he experienced with our family.
It chilled me to think of how much like my father Shane was. When I thought of my baby, I felt a mixture of joy, fear, hope, and humility. Had my father ever felt that? Had Shane felt that way when Beverly was pregnant? If so, what happened after a child was born that closed a parent’s heart?
Maybe it wasn’t a lack of love, but a need to control. You couldn’t control the world, or the things your child would have to endure, so you tried to control your child. To make him into someone the world wouldn’t hurt or reject. Daniel had often chided me about my need to control people. My scheme to use our fifteen minutes of fame to force him to spend time with me seemed to confirm his accusations. I hoped that didn’t mean I was doomed to repeat my family’s mistakes with my child.
Then again, Daniel wasn’t a child, nor was he the most pliable of accomplices. Our public appearances were proof that he was only too eager to challenge my opinions and goad me into arguments.
“Is that what you’re wearing?” Daniel asked one night when we were off to another benefit.
“No. It’s an illusion done with smoke and mirrors. I’m really wearing a sequined ball gown,” I growled.
Since the press no longer found it necessary to camp on our doorsteps, Daniel and I felt free to try to get the bitterness out of our systems. He glared at me as we stalked angrily to Ninth Avenue to hail a cab.
“All I meant was,” he said, “if we’re going to make people think we’re a couple, you should start dressing a little more—”
“Like you?”
“Yes,” he insisted. “Remember that photo in the ‘Styles’ section? I don’t mean to sound conceited, but I’m known for being a stylish dresser.”
“I know you don’t mean to sound conceited,” I said. “It just comes naturally to you.”
Daniel scowled at me but let the insult slide, saying, “If you want people to believe we’re dating, you should refresh your wardrobe so it looks like I’m influencing you.”
We slid into the backseat of a cab, and I recited an address that Gavin had hastily scribbled for me to the driver. “We want people to think we’re a couple. I’m not in this alone, you know,” I said to Daniel, resuming the discussion. “And you’re being ridiculous. I never altered my style when we actually were dating. Why should I do it now?”
“I’m just saying it’s an idea. Lots of couples take on each other’s characteristics when they’re in love. Style is sometimes one of them.”
“If that was true, David Arquette wouldn’t be on People’s ‘Worst Dressed List’ all the time. And why would I have to be the one to change? Why couldn’t you start wearing suits? Or be the responsible one for a change?”
Daniel took a deep breath and opened his mouth as if to start yelling, then looked at our driver and stopped himself.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m afraid we’re going to end up on Taxi Cab Confessions or something,” he whispered.
“That’s insane. Those people have to sign releases before they ‘confess.’ It’s a skewed version of reality,” I said.
“Just like us,” Daniel said. He fell silent until he asked, “Where are we going?”
“BATS is throwing a fund-raising benefit party at some club downtown. I have an early morning meeting, so I don’t want to stay too late. Violet tried to talk me out of going. She’s worried I’ll oversleep and miss my meeting.”
“What the hell is BATS?” Daniel asked.
“Brooklyn Area Transgender Support,” I said.
“No wonder she didn’t want you to go,” Daniel said, hiding a grin behind his hand and looking away from me.
“Why?”
“Blaine, you really are clueless sometimes. Violet used to be a man.”
“No, she didn’t,” I said, looking at him like he was crazy.
“Okay, you could be right. I don’t know what stage of the process she’s in. But she’s definitely transgendered. You do know what that is, don’t you?”
“Of course,” I said, holding up a hand so he wouldn’t go into graphic detail.
“Until now, I thought you knew about her,” Daniel said. “I finally understand why she always avoided meeting me. Considering my past as
Princess 2Di4, she probably figured I’d spot it immediately and tell you.”
“But that would mean she was keeping it a secret from me,” I said, dazed by his revelation. “If that’s the case, it worked. I thought she was a woman.”
“She is a woman,” Daniel said. “She used to be a man.”
“Right. But why would she want to keep that a secret from me?”
“Blaine, I’m not trying to start another fight,” Daniel said, “but sometimes you can be very intolerant.”
I met Daniel’s honesty and his sympathetic stare with silence. Rather than fly off the handle like I normally would, I carefully weighed his words. I thought about Jeremy’s criticism of the way I usually reacted to Daniel’s past profession as a female impersonator and, most recently, when he’d shown up at my apartment in drag to elude the press. I was sometimes hostile, but usually changed the subject. I’d embed it in the past, as if drag were a bout of chicken pox that Daniel had caught but would never experience again. Which was how Daniel treated the subject of my ex-wife, Sydney. The difference was, I shared Daniel’s feelings about Sydney. Daniel, on the other hand, regarded his years of performing as 2Di4 with fondness, as if she were a real person he loved and respected, who had moved to another country and was sorely missed.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“For not knowing Violet was once a man?” Daniel asked, looking perplexed. “That’s nothing to be sorry for. She’s beautiful. It took a few hard glances for me to be sure.”
“No. Not that,” I said, pausing to get the words right. “I’m sorry that I always reacted so badly whenever the subject of 2Di4 came up. Not only because of how that must have made you feel, but because I missed sharing a part of your past that made you who you are today.”
Daniel stared at me, his mouth slightly open, until the cab swerved to avoid colliding with a bus and he grabbed my arm to keep from being flung across the backseat. He finally said, “Okay,” very quietly. When he realized that he was still holding my arm, we both watched as he slowly let go and retreated into silence.
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