Worlds Away

by Alexa Land

  “Thank you, too. Last night meant a lot to me.” What an understatement! It had been amazing, a revelation, a night that realigned my world. I wasn’t the type of guy who could say that to someone though, not without feeling like an idiot. So instead, I wrapped my arms around him and held on tight.

  “I’m going to call you this week,” he said. “I want to take you on a proper date, a nice dinner, followed by a bit of live music. I think that’s well within the parameters of a fling, don’t you?”

  “For sure. As long as we both go into it knowing what to expect, we can keep seeing each other.”

  “Exactly. I still have several months in San Francisco, so why not enjoy ourselves? We know to keep it casual, no strings attached. Just a harmless bit of fun.”

  “Works for me.” We exchanged numbers, and I kissed his forehead before getting on my motorcycle, then zipping the bag with the robe inside my jacket for safekeeping.

  The bike was a gunmetal gray 1957 Harley, which I’d inherited from my grandfather. It roared to life when I used my heel to kick-start the pedal. As I put on my sunglasses, Alastair called over the engine, “No helmet? You must like living dangerously.”

  “They keep getting stolen, even though I chain them to the bike. Somewhere there’s a secondhand store filled with my helmets.”

  “Be careful, please.” That from the guy whose hobbies included illegal street racing and dancing on rooftops. The concern was sweet though, and I gave him a smile and a nod before pulling away from the curb. I couldn’t resist a look back as I rolled down the block. He was right where I left him, watching me go. Alastair raised his hand in a little wave before he disappeared from sight.

  *****

  The blocky duplex in the Richmond District looked like it suffered from a severe split personality disorder. The right side sported a fresh coat of purple paint with crisp white trim. Cheerful pansies and violas filled a window box and the series of terra cotta pots lining the right side of the shared staircase. Meanwhile, the left side of the house had downgraded from white to dishwater beige over the years, and the only living things were the hearty weeds in the three-foot-square ‘front yard’ beneath the left-hand window.

  Sherry, my dad’s most recent ex-wife, was watering her flowers when I cut the engine and rolled the bike onto the little walkway to the left of the building, which I used as a parking space. She and my dad had both been too stubborn to sell their share of the duplex they’d bought together during their brief marriage, so they existed in a perpetual state of annoyance with one another. Sherry and I had always gotten along great, though.

  When I walked up to the staircase, she greeted me with a big smile and a lilting, “Well, good morning there, sunshine!” She’d left Minnesota more than twenty years ago, but her regional accent was thick as ever. I suspected she played it up, because it was one of the things that made Sherry Sherry, along with her short, red curls and a penchant for pastel jogging suits that had never seen the inside of a gym.

  I greeted her with a big hug and picked her up off her feet so I could kiss her cheek, since she was only five-foot-two. She was one of my favorite people, and my dad was an idiot for failing to hang on to her. “Oh good gravy, put me down!” She said that every time. “One of these days you’ll throw your back out from hauling my fat self around.”

  “You’re not fat.”

  “You lie like a rug. Keep doing that.” Sherry beamed at me as I returned her sneaker-clad feet to the pavement, then asked, “Are you just getting in? Must’ve been a wild night.”

  “A friend of mine got married yesterday, and at the reception, well….”

  “You got lucky! No need to explain, I was twenty-three once, too. Of course, back then I was crimping my hair and wearing enormous shoulder pads that made me look like I played for the Minnesota Vikings. It’s amazing anybody got laid in 1985, given what passed for fashion!”

  “I’ll bet you were adorable.”

  “I was a train wreck! We all were.” She looked up at me and asked, “So, are you going to see him again?”

  “Him who?”

  “The fellow from last night!”

  “Wait…what?”

  “You heard me.”

  I stammered, “But…I didn’t think you knew….”

  “That you’re gay? Of course I do,” she said as I sank onto the stairs and she sat down beside me. “I’ve always known.”

  “But how?”

  “I noticed things. Like, I’d take you to the mall when you were fourteen or fifteen, and a group of cute girls would walk by, but you didn’t give them a second glance. Then we’d go to the food court, and you’d get all flustered by that adorable emo boy working at Hotdog on a Stick.”

  I grinned a little. “That emo kid really was cute.”

  “You never talked about it growing up, and I thought as your stepmom, maybe it wasn’t my place to bring it up, either. Your father’s a grade-A jackass, and I guess you were worried about his reaction. But I should have said something sooner and let you know I’ve always accepted you for who you are.”

  I told her the story of my first kiss and my dad’s reaction, and she thought about it before saying, “Could just be you caught him off guard, and he didn’t know how to react. But he’s had a lot of years to process the fact that you’re gay, so maybe he’s come to grips with it.”

  “Or maybe he’ll flip the hell out if I bring it up.”

  “Maybe. Your father can be a real douche canoe, but sooner or later you need to talk to him about this.” I chuckled at that, and she said, “What’s funny?”

  “Douche canoe,” I repeated. “That’s hilarious with your accent. Where’d you even learn that expression?”

  She grinned at me. “From my girlfriend Rosalie. I thought of your father right away.”

  After a few moments, I said, “You’re right that I need to talk to him. I’ve just been putting it off. We’ve been getting along pretty well lately, and I just know that’s going to be a huge setback.”

  “If he kicks you out, you can come and live in my guestroom.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not worried about getting kicked out. I have plenty of savings and could get my own place if I wanted to.”

  “Oh! I figured you moved back home for financial reasons.”

  I shook my head. “I was in a bad relationship while I was in the Army, and…I guess I chose to come back here because I wanted the comfort of home after the breakup. I also wanted to build a friendship with my dad, now that we’re both adults. He still treats me like a kid though, and none of it’s gone like I’d hoped. I should just give up and find my own place.”

  Sherry patted my arm. “I’m sorry things haven’t worked out with your dad, but that’s no reflection on you, Sawyer. He has to be willing to meet you halfway, and let’s face it, that’s like asking for a gosh-darn miracle.”

  “True.”

  I tilted my face toward the almost-warm May sunlight as Sherry said, “Back to my original question. Are you going to see the guy from last night again?” I nodded, avoiding her gaze. It felt odd to talk candidly about a subject I’d always kept under wraps. “So, when do I get to meet him?”

  “It’s not like that. Last night wasn’t the start of something, because he’s going away in a few months. We’ve just agreed to have some fun in the meantime. It won’t turn into a ‘meet the parents’ type of thing.”

  “I see.” She crossed her short legs and got comfortable. “So, tell me about the fellow you were seeing when you were in the Army. How was it a bad relationship? He better not have hurt you, or so help me I’m going to find him and kick his butt!”

  I grinned at the mental picture of five-two Sherry going after my enormous ex. Then, instead of going into detail, I just told her, “I was in love. He wasn’t. It was more complicated than that, but ultimately that’s what it boiled down to.”

  We started talking about relationships in general and what a minefield they were. It was a subject Sherry kn
ew all too well. About half an hour into our conversation, we paused and turned our attention to a white van, which double-parked in the street. The name of a local delivery service was printed on the side, along with a cartoon of Hermes in winged sandals.

  The middle-aged courier who got out of the van wore a baseball cap with puffy gold wings jutting out of each side. He must have loved that. After he retrieved a box from the back, the man headed toward the house and called, “Sawyer MacNeil?”

  When I nodded, he produced a pen and slip of paper. “Sign at the bottom.”

  “I didn’t order anything,” I told him, while doing as he asked.

  “Well, somebody did.” He traded the box for the pen and paper, and tacked on a completely insincere, “Have a nice day,” before returning to the van.

  The box contained a top-of-the-line black motorcycle helmet, a lock to fasten it to my bike, a receipt, and an envelope with my name on it. I removed the single sheet of paper and immediately recognized the graceful, old-fashioned handwriting. The note said: Stay safe. Love, Alastair.

  I handed Sherry the note and tried on the helmet. It was a perfect fit. “Now, how did he know what size to get? How’d he know my address, for that matter?”

  “Alastair. Is that the fellow from last night?” When I nodded, she said, “I like him already. Look at him, taking care of you!”

  “He’s a great guy.” I took off the helmet and turned it over in my hands, then pulled the receipt from the bottom of the box. Alastair had bought the helmet and lock twenty minutes earlier at a high-end shop in the city. A hand-written message on the receipt said: Paid by phone with credit card, can exchange for different size/style. No need, he’d totally nailed it.

  “So I see.”

  I got up and said, “I’m going to call him to say thank you. Want to have lunch later?”

  Sherry got up too and brushed off the seat of her yellow track suit. “I’ll have to take a raincheck, sunshine. Rosalie and I are going shopping. I have a date next week, and she thinks I need a new dress for the occasion.”

  “A date, that’s terrific!” As far as I knew, it had been about two years since the last one.

  She brushed it off with a wave of her hand. “I don’t want to make a big deal of it, but hey, any excuse to shop!”

  The house was blissfully quiet when I went inside. My dad spent every Sunday morning at a diner with a couple of his Army buddies, so I got to enjoy a few hours’ reprieve from the otherwise constant blare of the television. I carried the box upstairs, then took off my jacket and unpacked the silk robe. The fabric felt great in my hands, and on impulse, I stripped myself and put it on. It was an immediate comfort.

  I climbed onto my bed, leaned against the wall and glanced at my surroundings. I’d left for the Army at eighteen and hadn’t felt motivated to change a thing since I’d been back. The walls were dingy white and covered with posters that didn’t reflect who I was, then or now. Three were versions of ‘Go Army’ and a couple more were for the San Francisco Forty-Niners. Never mind that I hadn’t wanted to enlist in the first place, and that my interest in my dad’s favorite team was lukewarm at best. My room wasn’t a time capsule, it was a charade.

  The only other decorative item in the otherwise stark space was a framed picture on the desk. It was the only photo I had of both my parents and me together, taken when I was about a year old. It hurt a little every time I looked at it, so I had to wonder why I kept it on display.

  I sighed and turned my attention to my phone. Before I could text Alastair, it rang in my hand and Gabriel’s number appeared on the screen. I answered with, “Hey!”

  “Hey yourself! I’m checking to see how it went last night. Did the guy you went home with get to meet the real you?”

  “He did.”

  “How did he react when he saw what you were wearing?”

  “He was totally accepting. This morning, he even gave me a silk kimono. I figured that was his way of letting me know he truly is okay with it.”

  “Damn, that guy’s a keeper. What does the kimono look like?”

  “It’s pale blue with a white pattern of koi and water, and it’s mid-calf length with wide sleeves. He found that balance, not drag, not a costume, just…right.” I smiled to myself and touched the lapel.

  “You’re wearing it right now, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah. I put it on as soon as I got home. I can’t even tell you how much it meant to me.”

  “You don’t have to tell me, because I already know. I’d feel the same way if someone understood me like that.”

  “It’s nice that you get it.”

  Gabriel said, “So, besides checking in, I’m also calling to tell you there’s something we have to do tonight. Tell me you don’t have plans.”

  “I don’t. What do we have to do?”

  “Two things, actually. We have to go shopping, and then we have to head on over to Club Scandal.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a gay burlesque club, and tonight is amateur night. You and that hot bod are going to kill it when you take the stage!”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Hell no, I’m not kidding! It’ll be glorious!”

  “No way.”

  “First prize is two hundred bucks, and you’ll also make a bundle in tips. Money aside, you need this!”

  I said, “You met me yesterday, Gabriel. How do you know what I need?”

  “Oh, I know. What could be more validating than revealing your true self to a couple hundred hot guys and having them worship you for it?”

  “Well, last night with Alastair was pretty damn validating.”

  “So, take that momentum and run with it!”

  “Why is this so important to you?”

  “Two reasons,” Gabriel said. “First, I like you and I think this’ll be great for your confidence. Second, I don’t want to do this shit by myself, and you’re the only person I know who wouldn’t just go up there and treat it like a joke.”

  “I didn’t realize you’d be participating, too. That almost makes me feel better about it.”

  “I always wanted to do it when I lived here, but I kept chickening out. Tonight I’m finally going for it.”

  “You don’t live in San Francisco?”

  “I used to, and I will again. I’m temporarily in exile in my shitty, rural hometown a couple hours south of here, but I snuck back in for Zachary’s wedding and intend to make a weekend of it.”

  “Why’d you have to sneak in?”

  Gabriel sighed and said, “Long, horrible story, but in a nutshell, I’m hiding from my former Dom, who’s royally pissed off at me and a straight-up thug, so he’ll probably come close to killing me if he ever finds me.”

  “Shit!”

  “Sums it up.”

  “So, maybe appearing onstage isn’t the best idea, right?”

  “That’s why I’m using a fake name and wearing a mask. Plus, this club is totally off his radar. He’d have no interest in a place like that, and neither would any of his cronies.”

  “Still seems risky.”

  “I need the money, though. Not that I have a chance of winning, but I’ve heard the tips are phenomenal.”

  I asked, “Do you want me to go talk to this guy, get him to back off?”

  “Thanks for offering, but no. He’s not the sort of person you can reason with.”

  “He sounds awful. What were you doing with a guy like that?”

  “Honestly? I was getting off on letting him hurt me, and I was too naïve to realize that BDSM had crossed the line into abuse.”

  “Jesus, Gabriel.”

  He said, “I know, but let’s stop talking about this, it’s depressing. Will you come with me tonight?”

  “I guess so. I’m mostly agreeing to this because I don’t like the idea of you doing it by yourself, especially with a sadistic Dom after you.”

  “I’m so glad you’re coming!”

  “This is going to be humi
liating. I’ve never even been to a burlesque club, and I won’t know what to do.”

  “It’s amateur night, so it’ll be a mixed bag. Some people will go old-school with a sexy strip-tease, others are just going to tear their clothes off and shake their ass. Find something between those two and just go for it.”

  “Am I supposed to have a routine? Because you know I don’t. And what am I supposed to wear?”

  “A suit and tie, with your favorite lingerie underneath. And no, you don’t need a routine,” he said. “They’ll play some music and you’ll dance around a bit while you strip down to something sexy. It’s burlesque, not ‘The Full Monty’, so it doesn’t even have to be all that revealing.”

  “You make it sound easy.”

  “It is! If you want, we can put our names at the very bottom of the sign-up sheet. That way, you’ll be able to watch a lot of other men and women perform before it’s your turn and see what the crowd responds to. Copy what works for you, or just dance and have a good time while you take your clothes off. Either way.”

  I’d never thought of myself as much of an exhibitionist, but I wasn’t shy either, and the prospect of celebrating my other side like that was undeniably appealing. It had always been easier to show that part of myself to strangers, as opposed to friends and family, and the few times I’d revealed a little of it in public had been gratifying. Getting up on stage and completely owning it would probably feel great too, and I said, “Alright. We’ll see what happens.”

  “You won’t regret this, Sawyer.”

  “I already am.”

  “No you’re not, you’re looking forward to it. Admit it!”

  I grinned and told him, “Maybe a little.”

  “Have you ever worn women’s clothing in public? So it shows, I mean?”

  “Just a handful of times. I have a couple friends who are drag queens, and I went out with them when they were dressed up, which made it easier, somehow. I didn’t do anything too over-the-top, just a corset under my leather jacket, or stockings with combat boots, stuff like that. Tonight is going to be something else entirely.”