A Fluid State

by Rob Browatzke

  Good dads supported their kids.

  He rolled over and went back to sleep.

  §

  The week went by slowly. Patrick spent a lot of time at the gym, and talked to Peter every night. He did not tell Christy he had hung out with Andrew. He was going to, but he could just see it leading to a fight. In Christy's mind, Patrick shouldn't have needed any help supporting his son, and that was probably true.

  He had Googled Andrew though. Or Ann anyway. There'd been a few videos of her performing. It was hard to reconcile that person with the guy he had hung out with. They really were very different. The videos weren't sexy or sultry, like some of the drag photos had been. Ann tumbled and stumbled around the stage, and Patrick found himself laughing out loud. She was actually really funny.

  Maybe, just maybe, he could see what Peter and Christy saw in this. It was clear Ann had a lot of talent, and put in a lot of work. She performed at a gay club downtown, but Patrick didn't think he'd be checking out a show. That would push him past his comfort levels, for sure.

  He wasn't homophobic, but he still didn't want other people thinking he was gay. There'd been a gay guy on the base in Afghanistan. Officially, everyone was tolerated, but unofficially, there were a lot of ways that a lot of the guys showed what they thought of him. Little pranks, harmless stuff mostly, but also just excluding him from stuff. And Mark was a regular gay guy, not a drag queen. Patrick couldn't even begin to imagine what they'd do with someone like Andrew.

  Friday came around, and Patrick picked up Peter from his mom's. He took a deep breath when he saw what Peter was wearing. It was a skirt. There was no getting around it. His kid, his SON, was coming down the stairs to the car, in a skirt, in public, in daylight. It was red and black and plaid, and maybe, just maybe, Patrick could rationalize it as a kilt.

  Because kilts were traditional garments of an Indian-American kid right?

  But even the kilt thing fell apart with the black tights underneath, and the red... it could only be called a blouse. Christy was turning him into a girl, and Patrick had to put a stop to it. Enough was enough.

  Suddenly though, Andrew's face floated through Patrick's mind, and the look on his face was disappointed.

  “Supportive. Right.” Patrick looked at himself in the mirror. “You can do this. It's a phase, or, well, it's not a phase, but he's your son.” Peter opened the car door. “Hey champ.”

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Are you excited for the weekend? I got all the food you said you liked, and I thought we'd see what's on Netflix. Camp out in the living room and watch movies all night.”

  “That sounds okay.”

  “And storytime tomorrow, right?”

  Peter looked at him, a doubtful look on his face. “You don't mind going again?”

  “Not if that's what you want to do.”

  “Okay.” Peter waved to Christy, who was standing in the doorway watching. Patrick waved too and then drove off. About a block from the house, Peter spoke up. “You don't like how I dress.”

  “Why would you say that? I never said that.”

  “C'mon, Dad.”

  “I don't understand it, maybe, Peter, but I love you, and if this is what you want to wear, that's your choice.”

  Peter looked at him, and then nodded. “Okay.”

  They drove in silence again for a minute, and then Patrick took a deep breath. If they were going to have this conversation, they might as well do it. “If there's anything else you ever want to talk to me about, or have questions about, or whatever, you can tell me anything, you know that, right?”

  “Okay.”

  “A lot of those drag queens on that show you like, you know they're gay, right?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “You know what gay means, right?”

  Peter rolled his eyes. “Of course I do, Dad. I'm eleven.”

  “Okay.”

  “I'm not.”

  `“You're not what? Eleven? Yes, you are.”

  “I'm not gay, I mean.”

  OH THANK GOD! “If you are, that would be okay.”

  “Okay.” Peter looked out his window, then turned. “That's pretty cool, Dad.”

  “I'm pretty cool, I guess.”

  “Don't push it.”

  Patrick decided that was some advice he better listen to.

  §

  The next morning, Patrick was up early, and was almost as excited as Peter was to get to the library. Hopefully, Andrew would accept Patrick's apology, because Patrick was looking forward to tell him how amazing the night had gone. That simple conversation was all it took for all the awkwardness to dissipate. The rest of the night had gone exactly like Patrick had pictured it, all those nights in the desert when the thought of coming back to his son had sustained him.

  “You don't need to stay, Dad,” Peter said, en route to the library. “I know you probably don't want to.”

  “No, I do,” he replied. “I want to know what happens next.”

  Peter looked at him. “Did you even listen last week?”

  Patrick grinned. “Okay, no, but I will today. Promise.”

  “Okay.”

  Jess, Monica, and Lizzie were standing outside smoking when they arrived. “We didn't expect you to be back,” Monica said.

  “Of course,” Patrick replied. “Father-son time! You go ahead, Peter.”

  “I'm impressed,” Jess said. “This isn't too threatening for you?”

  “Threaten a big tough army guy like me? Never.” Patrick puffed out his chest, earning laughs, and sighs.

  “Good looking and open,” Monica said. “The thirst is real.”

  “Thirst?”

  “Ignore her,” Lizzie said, taking him by the arm. “She's just wound up. She hasn't been getting any.”

  Gossiping with the other parents wasn't on his agenda though. He could see through the window that storytime had started. He could see the top of Andrew's beehive through the window. Well, Ann's, he guessed he should say. “If you'll excuse me,” he said, and stepped inside.

  “Sara swung her sword,” Ann was saying, “and the dragon stepped back, unsure why this crazy woman was attacking him. Did she not know he was Goldwyrm the Magnificent, who had destroyed all heroes before?

  ‘Spoiler,” Ann said, looking up, “she knew, but she didn’t care. She saw Patrick and paused, then half-smiled and continued.

  An hour later, Patrick was quite caught up in the story of Sara the Brave, who not only defeated the dragon, but rejected the captive prince’s offer of marriage. There were still dragons to be slain, she had said, so she didn’t have time to be tied down. The day’s reading had ended with Sara riding off towards her next adventure, leaving the befuddled Michael to watch her disappear into the sunset.

  “Don’t worry though, kids. Michael and Sara will meet again, and the evil warlock is still out there. We’ll find out what happens next week.”

  The kids cheered, and Ann closed the book, setting it down on the table next to her chair. She came out into the crowd, as she did the week before, saying goodbye to the kids. Finally, she ended up by Patrick.

  “I’m surprised to see you here,” she said.

  “Look, I was an ass.”

  “Language!” she said. “There’s kids around.”

  “They’ve heard worse, no doubt.”

  “No doubt,” she said, “but it was one of the first rules I got told. We had to promise to keep everything G-rated.”

  “I’m sorry,” Patrick said. “About over reacting.”

  “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have said ... what I said. About it being a date.”

  “You were kidding. I was wrong.”

  “We’re good.”

  Peter came running up. “I really enjoyed today,” he said.

  “I’m glad,” Ann said. “You’re looking great today.”

  “Thank you.” Peter took Ann by the hand. “I really like this,” he said, looking at her nails, which Patrick noticed were painted in a gol
d glitter.

  Ann looked at Patrick, who knew immediately that she was worried about how Patrick would react. Patrick smiled, and tried to convey in that smile everything he’d been thinking about, that it was okay for Peter to be Peter, that it was okay for Andrew to be Ann.

  “Thank you, sunshine,” she said.

  “Do you want to get some for yourself?” Patrick asked, not even believing the words coming out of his mouth.

  Peter turned to him, with such shock and awe on his face. “Really?” he asked.

  “If you want.”

  Peter’s expression turned joyous. “Thanks, Dad!” He wrapped his arms around him.

  Ann raised an eyebrow and nodded approvingly.

  “Maybe you want to come with us?” Patrick asked. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about finding glitter nail polish.”

  “Well, I-”

  “Oh please?” Peter said.

  “Can’t say no to the kid,” Patrick said, with a grin and a shrug.

  “Well, okay,” Ann said. “I see I’m outnumbered, but you’ll need to let me scrub out first. This is library face, not suitable for daylight or for malls. Did you want to follow me to my place then?”

  “We sure can,” Patrick said. “Thanks for doing this. Maybe we can grab lunch after. Would you like that, Peter?”

  “Yes!”

  “If that’s okay with Ann, that is.”

  She looked at him, a smirk on her lips. “Sure. It’s a date.”

  ANDREW

  Andrew set his beehive down on the passenger seat before driving home. It had taken a long time to get that styled perfectly, and there was no way he was going to let it get squashed simply because the straight guy might see him frocked up but de-wigged. Yes, it destroyed the illusion, but it wasn’t like Patrick hadn’t seen him as a guy anyway.

  He’d been surprised to see Patrick there. He thought for sure he’d blown the new, if surprising, friendship. Straight guys didn’t apologize, not in Andrew’s experience. Patrick wasn’t a regular straight guy, that much was obvious. Obviously, love for his son trumped nearly everything else.

  He kept his eye on the rear view mirror, making sure Patrick and Peter were still behind him. He didn’t live far from the library. He hoped his place was clean. He certainly hadn’t expected any company. It would be okay, he thought. He could scrub out pretty fast when needed.

  He pulled into his parking stall, and set the wig back on his head as he got out. His neighbors were certainly used to seeing him as Ann, especially on Saturdays. Most of them were older, and long asleep before Ann left for club shows.

  Patrick pulled up and rolled down his window. “Visitor parking is around the corner,” Andrew said, pointing. “I’ll wait for you at the front door.”

  As he waited for them to park, Andrew thought how lucky Peter was. What Dad would take his son nail polish shopping? What Dad would be okay with his son wearing the darling skirt that Peter currently was? What Dad would even be okay with their son being around a drag queen? There were still too many people out there that thought gay men were sexual predators and that drag queens were the worst kind of deviants.

  “You look deep in thought,” Patrick said. “Penny for your thoughts?”

  “A queen never shares her secrets,” he said, with a smile for Peter, who grinned. “C’mon, let’s go make me a man again.”

  In the elevator up, he turned to Peter and asked, “How long have you been watching the race?”

  “Race?” Patrick asked.

  Andrew and Peter rolled their eyes simultaneously. “RuPaul’s Drag Race, Dad,” Peter said. “It’s only the best show ever made.”

  “Your mom mentioned a show, but didn’t tell me what it was. Sorry for being an uncool Dad.” He winked at them. “What’s it about? Cars?”

  “Not that kind of drag race,” Andrew said. “It’s a competition to find drag stars.”

  “And have you been on it?”

  “Oh no,” he said. “It’s not for queens like me. I’m just a small town queen.”

  “Living in a lonely world?”

  “Did you just Journey quote me?” Patrick shrugged again. “So straight.”

  “I’ve seen every season,” Peter said. “Even season one. Mom and I found them on YouTube.”

  “Wow. You’re a fan.”

  “I love them all. They’re so good.”

  “You’ll need to show me,” Patrick said.

  “Sure!” Peter said.

  “This is me,” Andrew said, as the elevator stopped. “Sorry if my place is a mess.”

  “It’s fine,” Patrick said. “Thanks again for doing this.”

  “No problem.” He unlocked the door and ushered them in. “Make yourselves at home,” he said. “I’ll need about twenty minutes to wash out of all this beauty and glamour.”

  “Take your time,” Patrick said, and Andrew headed down the hall towards the shower. He paused, looking back at the man with his son sitting on his living room couch. He had definitely had less strange Saturdays, he thought.

  §

  Seventeen minutes later, the beehive was on its head, the dress was in the closet, and the face was washed down the drain. Dressed in jeans and a T, Andrew walked into the living room. Peter saw him and rushed across the room to the shelving unit filled with framed pictures. “Is that really Bob?”

  “Yes,” Andrew said. “She was in town last year. I actually got to open for her.”

  “What? That is so cool.”

  “This Bob’s from the show?” Patrick asked.

  “She’s one of the best,” Peter said.

  “And a great person too,” Andrew said. “Shall we go?”

  “Should I just drive?” Patrick asked.

  “Sure. I’ll just give directions. It’s downtown though.”

  “That’s okay,” Patrick said. “We have the whole day.”

  Andrew locked up behind them and led them through the building to visitor parking. He gave Patrick the address of where they were going.

  “You’re with your Dad on weekends now?” Andrew asked Peter.

  “Yah, now that he’s home.”

  “I bet you missed him while he was gone, hey?”

  “Yah.”

  “I sure missed this guy, didn’t I, champ?” Patrick said. “He grew up so fast.”

  “They do that.”

  “Do you have any kids?” Peter asked.

  “Who? Me? No, hun, no I don’t.”

  “Do you want them?”

  “Peter,” Patrick said, “that’s pretty personal.”

  “It’s okay,” Andrew said. “I don’t have secrets. Except beauty secrets, of course,” he added, turning to wink at Peter in the back seat. “Maybe someday,” he said, “if I meet the right person and the time is right.”

  “That’s cool,” Peter said. “I like how you read the stories. You’d be a good dad.”

  “You have a pretty good dad, don’t you?” Andrew said, causing a blush to creep up Patrick’s neck to his face. “I mean, there’s lots of kids whose dads wouldn’t take them for nail polish.”

  “That’s so dumb,” Peter said. “It’s just pretty.”

  “Exactly.”

  I wouldn’t wear it to school anyway,” Peter said. “But it’s summer so it’s okay.”

  “Why wouldn’t you wear it to school?” Patrick asked.

  “Tommy’s a jerk. He’d make fun of me.”

  “Who’s Tommy?” Patrick asked. “Is he picking on you?”

  “He picks on everyone. It’s not a big deal. I just ignore him.”

  “It is a big deal,” Patrick said. “What’s he doing to you?”

  “He just says stuff. I just wouldn’t wear this around him.”

  “Peter, you know if you’re having trouble with someone, you can tell me.”

  “I won’t see him until September now anyway, Dad. It’s good. I’m good.”

  Andrew watched Patrick watching Peter in the rear view mirror. Andrew knew exa
ctly what he was thinking: that it wasn’t worth it. It was Patrick’s biggest fear. Andrew knew what it was like, to be bullied. Everyone in the world could wear purple shirts and say it was going to get better, but he knew that didn’t mean much to a kid like Peter.

  “I had a kid like that in my class,” he said. “His name was Sean. He was bigger than everyone else in class.”

  “What did he do?” Peter asked.

  “He’d steal my stuff and hide it. My books. My lunch. Teachers knew, but they didn’t do anything.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I just ignored it,” Andrew said. “Eventually, he got bored and moved onto someone else.” That wasn’t entirely true, but it was what Peter needed to hear. “Now he’s a loser and look at how fabulous I am.”

  Peter smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Yes,” Patrick said, turning to look at Andrew. “Thank you.”

  They parked outside the store. “This is the best place for all kinds of fun make-up,” Andrew said. “You’ll like it.”

  “I don’t want to wear make-up though,” Peter said. “Just nail polish would be fun.” He paused. “It’s great that you do. It’s just not for me.”

  “Run in and look around,” Patrick said. “I’ll be right there.” Peter ran in. “Thanks for that story,” he said to Andrew. “That wasn’t it though, was it?”

  It was weird how Patrick could tell. “No, but it was enough for Peter to hear. He’s so amazing.”

  “He really is.”

  “He knows exactly who he is and how he wants to be.”

  “I’m very proud.”

  “You should be. And you should be proud of yourself too, Patrick. Just a week ago, look how uncomfortable you were. And now you’re taking him for nail polish? It’s amazing.”

  “Oh believe me, I’m still uncomfortable, but that’s nothing compared to how I’d feel if I let him down. When he said he was getting picked on? I wanted to turn the car around and teach him how to fight instead.”

  “That wouldn’t help anyone though.”

  “I know. Let’s go see what he’s picked.” Patrick held the door open for Andrew.

  “Such a gentleman.”

  “My father always taught me to hold the door for a lady,” he said, “even when he’s dressed as a dude.”