rock-solid support.
He looked down at the cup of sake in his hand. “This shit must be stronger than I thought, if I’m tellin’ you ’bout my parents.”
“It can sneak up on you.”
He glanced at the clock, sighed and said, “Gotta get goin’.” “Hey, Angelo?” I said just as he was going out the door. He stopped. “What?”
“You want to hang out again sometime?”
“You think I got nothin’ better to do?” It was that impudent tone again, and I didn’t know if I should be offended or not. “It was just a thought,” I said, trying once again not to sound defensive. “Never mind.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, what?”
“Yeah, I wanna hang out again sometime.” I wondered if I would ever get used to these convoluted exchanges. “See you tomorrow, Zach.”
…Angelo
C AN ’ T believe Zach didn’t know ’bout me bein’ queer. All those
times I was tryin’ to flirt with him, tryin’ to get his attention. Guess he just thought I was bein’ extra friendly. Talk about clueless. It makes me laugh.
Surprises me when he invites me over. It’s cool, though. He actually wants to hang with me and isn’t just aimin’ to get laid. Can’t even remember the last time that happened. Still, not sure why I told him ’bout my parents. It’s not somethin’ I generally tell people. Hate seein’ that look on their faces—that same look Zach had—part horror and part pity. It gets old real fuckin’ fast. Zach at least did his best to not let me see it.
He invites me over again two nights later, and we spend another night sittin’ on his livin’ room floor, watchin’ a movie and eatin’ takeout Thai food. When I leave I can’t help hopin’ he’ll ask me over again. Sure beats sittin’ at my place by myself.
Workin’ at A to Z is a trip. First, there’s the neighbors, crazy Ruby on one side and Jeremy on the other. Ruby told me my first week ’bout a vision she had of me tryin’ to choke a chicken. Resisted the urge to make the stereotypical masturbation joke. Have a feelin’ she wouldn’t have laughed. Jeremy wants me to register as a Libertarian. He says Republicrats are the stooges of the corporate empire. Whatever the fuck that means. Nero Sensei keeps tryin’ to sell me supplements, and his students are always runnin’ ’round the parkin’ lot in their gis, kickin’ trees and yellin’ like banshees. Then there’s the customers. The guy in the Hawaiian shirts used to be a lawyer. Now he’s a bartender. He definitely shops at Jeremy’s shop on a regular basis, and he loves tearjerkers. He was embarrassed at first, but why should I care if the guy digs chick flicks? Justin only rents Heavy Metal . The movie’s not that good, and I can’t help but wonder why he doesn’t just buy a copy of the damn thing. And then there’s Carrie, the girl with the pierced lip. Would have figured her for a vampire freak. Turns out she plays cello and sings in her church choir. Loves musicals.
Never had so much fun at a job as I have with Zach. Look forward to seein’ him every day. I’m surprised how we seem to get along so easy. I feel bad for him, though, waitin’ ’round for that dickhead Tom. It’s clear as day that what Zach’s lookin’ for is a real relationship. It’s equally fuckin’ obvious that Tom isn’t interested in anything of the sort. Zach’s always countin’ the hours ’til he gets to see Tom again. Tom cancels at least half the time and shows up late the other half.
’Course who am I to talk? Like I said, I don’t do relationships. Still, I don’t think my way is quite so despicable. I would have shown Zach a good time and then never seen him again. I wouldn’t have pretended to date him and strung him along like Tom’s doin’. It’s the dishonesty that makes it so disgustin’. Got to remember, though, that it’s none of my business.
Couple weeks later Zach calls and asks me to open without him. Says he’s runnin’ late. That’s not just a phrase for