Tell Me It's Real

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Tell Me It's Real Page 20

by TJ Klune


  I remember one question catching my attention. The reporter said, “There was a bit of a public fallout with your son, who is openly gay. How is he doing with all of this?”

  They were good, the both of them, his mother and father. Nothing was given away that they didn’t want anyone to see. “Vincent has always been strong-headed,” his father said. “But he knows that this is a time for family and that any other issues we may have are not as important as this.”

  “He’s a good son,” Lori added, patting her husband’s hand.

  The latest reports I could find were from five weeks ago, when inquiries were made into her health. The mayor’s office released a statement asking for respect and privacy during the difficult time, and once any further information was known, it would be released.

  “Let him come to you with this,” Sandy told me before he left. I stood at the door to his car, looking down at him. “He obviously didn’t bring it up for a reason, so it wouldn’t be good to say anything. You might put him on the defensive.” Vince and I were going to meet up with Sandy at the bar after we finished at Nana’s house so that I could help him with the show. Vince had also said he wanted me to meet some of his friends and asked to meet mine. I didn’t have it in my pathetic heart to tell him he’d met Sandy and Wheels, and that was pretty much it.

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “We haven’t really had the time yet for the whole ‘my dad’s a fascist prick and my mom is dying’ heart-to-heart yet. I was hoping that we could do that next week.”

  Sandy reached out his car window to grab my hand. “You need to be careful with this,” he told me quietly. “I’m not saying this to be an ass, but you already sound like you’re making it about you. You can’t do that, Paul. Not with this. This is obviously a contentious situation as it is, and it’s got to be hurting him quite a bit. You can’t get pissed at him for this. You can’t. Do you understand me?”

  And as much as I sort of hated him right then, I knew he was right. I didn’t feel a bit of indignation that Vince hadn’t told me who his jerk of a dad was. It wasn’t like he’d lied to me, and it wasn’t as if he’d held anything from me… not exactly. I had to remind myself again that we’d only known each other a week (well, a week that we’d seen each other, five days since we’d first spoken). It felt like much longer.

  “I know,” I sighed. “It just sucks. I’m still sort of pissed, but only because I feel like I should be mad, not that I actually am. Anything that I’m feeling has got to be a billion times worse for him.” I didn’t know how much longer I would last without talking to Vince about it, not knowing what I did now. All I wanted to do right then was chew him out a little bit, then hug him until all the problems of his world went away and left him alone. It was an odd feeling, this protective one. I didn’t know what to do with it, and it was twisting me up.

  “Is he coming here?” Sandy asked.

  I shook my head. “He’s supposed to meet us at Nana’s house.”

  “Just take it easy on him, okay?”

  “You sure you don’t want to go? I could use a little help with this. I feel like I’m going to open my mouth and say the wrong thing. Which, to be honest, isn’t really a new thing for me. This just seems like it’s worse, though.”

  “I gotta get ready for the show tonight, baby doll. You’ll be fine. The best thing for you to do is to be a supportive partner and let him come to you with this.”

  I snorted. “Partner. Jesus Christ. This has been the weirdest week of my life.”

  Sandy grinned at me. “You told him about your parents yet?”

  “No! And I’ve already warned them to keep their mouths shut! I don’t need him finding out that Mom and Dad got married a week after they met. That’ll put ideas into his head that I don’t want to be in there. For fuck’s sake, he’s already told me he’s halfway in love with me. I am not going to end up like my parents.”

  “You mean having a loving marriage thirty-five years later? Yes, Paul. That sounds freaking awful. I don’t know how you’d survive. The social ramifications alone would destroy you.”

  “You know what I meant,” I said with a scowl.

  “Apparently I don’t. Maybe you should try and beat their time instead. You’ve still got a few hours left.”

  I gaped at him. “You… crazy… the fuck you talking about… I don’t even….”

  He squeezed my hand tightly. “Breathe, Paul. Just take a breath.”

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what I need. Getting married would solve all our problems.”

  “And what, might I ask, do you and Vince have problems over?”

  I opened my mouth to speak… and nothing came out. Not a single damn thing. I couldn’t think of a fucking thing. “Oh shit,” I whispered.

  “Sounds like a little bit of love to me,” Sandy said, laughing.

  “Or it could just be the first week of a relationship,” I snapped at him, trying to calm my thundering heartbeat. “It’s called the honeymoon phase. There shouldn’t be any problems at this point. That’d be a problem itself if there was.”

  Sandy’s eyes flashed and Helena came forward. “I know you think sometimes that you don’t deserve to be happy. I’ve done my best to try and make you see otherwise, to show you that you’re fine just the way you are. But I can only do so much. Vince can only do so much. You have to do the rest yourself. And I swear on everything that I have that if you fuck this up because of some misplaced sense of pride, I will never let you forget it. You do not get to let Vince walk away from you. You do not get to push him away. You get me?”

  “I get you,” I said, even though I was more worried then about what I’d do to fuck it up.

  “Give me a kiss, sugar,” Helena purred. I did. “I’ll see you tonight, okay? You tell that fabulous boyfriend of yours that he may come up to the dressing room with you when you arrive.”

  I was shocked. Helena never let anyone else up into the room aside from Charlie and me. Even the bar owner, Mike, had to steer clear or face Helena’s wrath. The fact that Vince had already shot past so many people’s defenses was knocking me off-center.

  “You sure?” I asked, starting to sweat a bit.

  “Positive,” she said with a grin. She threw her car into reverse. “Kisses,” she said. And then she was gone.

  ON THE drive over to Nana’s house, I debated whether to tell my parents about Vince’s mom and dad, but in the end, I decided not to. I didn’t want anything to be said until I could talk to Vince on my own, and I didn’t want him to be uncomfortable, especially given how uncomfortable this situation was already going to be. I had tried to warn him that Nana could be pretty… blunt, but I didn’t think he was taking my warnings seriously, especially after meeting my parents and practically worshipping the ground they walked on. I felt a bit guilty after thinking that, given what I knew now about his own parents. I knew Mom and Dad liked him quite a bit, even after just one short meeting, but I didn’t want that to turn to pity if Vince didn’t need it.

  Of course, best-laid plans and all that.

  “You ride a bike over here, son?” Dad asked as he opened the door at Nana’s house.

  I pushed past him, wheeling the bike inside. “No. It’s….” Shit, I haven’t told them I hit Vince with my car. “It’s a… present. For Vince.”

  Dad grinned as he shut the door. “Wow. Maybe I should find myself a boyfriend too. Apparently the gay boys give each other nice things.”

  “I heard that,” my mother said from the kitchen. “You go find yourself a nice man, Larry. Let me know how that works out for you.”

  “Your mom thinks that if I was gay, I’d be a bottom,” he whispered to me.

  “The fact that you’re sharing this with me does not bode well for how tonight is going to go,” I told him. “I’ve been here for two minutes, Dad. You think we could wait until at least dessert before we have to have this conversation and show Vince just how dysfunctional we really are? I’d like to lead him in with a false sense of secur
ity before ripping it all away to reveal the dark underbelly of the Auster family.”

  “Of course,” he said cheerfully. “Oh, and your mother wanted to know if you are going to be allowed to eat at the table with the rest of us, or if your master is going to make you sit at his feet and stare at the floor and feed you by hand.” He glanced over his shoulder then leaned in closer to me and lowered his voice. “We haven’t told Nana about that side of you, so I just wanted to ask if you could keep the pony sounds to a minimum. We’re not stifling you, and we want you to be who you are, always, but I don’t want Nana to get worried when you start neighing when Vince hands you a sugar cube or piece of apple.”

  “I can’t believe you guys think I do that. Dad, I’m not a fucking pony! Vince is not my master! He’s my boyfriend.”

  “Language,” my father said.

  “Sorry,” I grumbled. And I was. If there was one thing my father asked for, it was that we watched our mouths. He was of the opinion that cursing added nothing to a conversation. I didn’t fucking agree with that in the slightest, but it was fucking important to him, so I fucking did it. Fucking shit balls. “I’ll be sitting at the table like everyone else.”

  “Is that Paul?” I heard Nana shout from the living room.

  “Yes, Nana. It’s me.”

  “Johnny Depp! You hear that? Paul is here!”

  “Ass-wrangler!” Johnny Depp squawked. “Don’t touch me!”

  “This is so not going to go well,” I muttered. I wheeled the bike down the hall and hid it in one of the bedrooms before going back out to the living room.

  My nana, Gigi, sat in her old lounge chair, her feet propped up on a bright green ottoman that clashed horribly with her bright purple recliner. Ever since I was a kid, she’d always had a thing for vivid colors, not caring if they went well with each other or not. She used to tell me that she was a little bit color-blind, and the bright colors helped her see them clearly. It wasn’t until years later that I learned that one cannot be “a little bit color-blind” and that she was essentially full of shit. Some might think that she was batshit crazy, and given that her cat used to eat out of her mouth, she just might have been, but she was also my nana: a hard-core woman fiercely protective of her family. Unfortunately, she included Johnny Depp as part of her family and told me once that it was just good-natured ribbing and that the bird wasn’t really homophobic. I didn’t believe that one in the slightest. The bird hated homosexuals.

  “Paulie!” she grinned at me toothlessly. Her white, curly hair shot off from her head in odd directions. She was a short, squat woman with a kind, wrinkled face and eyes that showed a sharp intelligence that had yet to fade.

  “Fairy!” Johnny Depp told me. He sat in a large cage in the corner, his gorgeous plumage hiding his evil, beating heart. He glared at me as I entered the room, clicking his claws against the wooden beam as he moved closer. “Don’t put your finger in my bum!”

  Nana cackled.

  I hadn’t heard that one before. “Are you teaching him new things?” I said as I kissed her cheek. “I told you that it can’t be healthy for an animal to be so hateful.”

  “I didn’t teach him a thing,” she said, grabbing and squeezing my hand. “He seems to think of these things on his own.”

  “You’re so full of shit,” I told her.

  “Larry!” she called out.

  “What?”

  “Your son is using foul language around me!”

  “Language,” my father scolded from the kitchen.

  “Paul touched penises with a neighbor’s dog,” Johnny Depp said.

  “Oh Jesus,” I groaned. “Nana, can we put him in another room, at least until we leave? Or better yet, can I flush him down the toilet?”

  “Killing animals is a sign that you could be a serial killer,” she told me. “I saw that on the news. You kill animals, you grow up to kill hookers.”

  “I don’t want to kill anyone,” I told her. “Especially not hookers. I just don’t want that bird to be around tonight. Or alive.”

  “Paul’s a homo!” Johnny Depp told the room. “Homo, homo, homo.”

  “What happened to your face?” she asked me, concerned about my black eye. She pulled me down until I sat next to her on the arm of the recliner.

  “I was mobbed because I’m so famous. They wanted my hot body as I was trying to escape. Men were trying to rip off my clothes and I got an elbow to the eye.”

  She nodded sympathetically. “You tripped and fell again?”

  I sighed. “Into the wall with my face. Wheels got under my feet, and I didn’t want him to die, so I stepped on his wheel instead and face-punched the wall.”

  “See? I knew you wouldn’t want to kill hookers. Not if you got beat up to avoid killing Wheels. How many grandmothers can say that about their grandchildren?”

  “I think you’re seriously overestimating the number of serial killers out in the world.”

  “Is the young man coming over to meet me a serial killer?” She reached out with a gnarled hand and patted my knee. “I overheard Larry and Matty talking. Why did they say you’re a pony?”

  Goddammit. “I think you misheard them, Nana. They were probably talking about how I planted peonies at my house.” Lying to your grandmother is okay if it has to do with sadomasochistic sex. Trust me on that.

  “You full of shit, Paul?” she asked me.

  “Dad!” I shouted. “Nana’s cursing in here.”

  “Language!” he called back.

  “Paul’s a cock-monger,” Johnny Depp muttered.

  “He’s not a serial killer,” I assured her. “At least I don’t think he is. He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, so I am pretty sure he wouldn’t go after a hooker. I don’t think he knows any hookers, so that’s a good thing, just to be safe.”

  “His name?”

  “Vince Melody Taylor,” I said with a grin.

  “Melody?” She giggled. “Oh. Is he a floater like you?”

  “Nancy-boy?” Johnny Depp asked.

  I rolled my eyes. “No, Nana. He’s not a floater. He’s a manly man. Apparently Melody is a family name.” And the thought of his family again sent a pang across my chest. I tried to keep it from my face, but Nana’s too quick and too perceptive; she always has been.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Do I need to knock him down to size for you?”

  I gave a fake laugh. It almost sounded real. “Nah. Nothing to do with him. He’s actually….” I stopped myself.

  “Actually what?”

  If not to her, then who? “Amazing,” I told her quietly. “I don’t know what the hell he’s thinking being with me. He’s not the smartest guy in the world, but he makes up for it, Nana. He does. He’s got this heart that just… I don’t know. He sees the world differently than anyone else I know. He chooses to see the good in people. He’s persistent, he’s sure of himself. He knows what he wants and he goes for it.” I looked down at my hands. “He’s everything I’m not. And that confuses me.”

  She smiled sweetly at me and reached up to cup my face. “Paul, I’m going to tell you this once and only once, okay?”

  I nodded at my beautiful grandmother.

  She slapped me upside my head. For being such an old little thing, she had freakish strength. I thought she might have made a deal with the devil to be the strongest old lady to have ever existed. “If you spout any of that bullshit to me ever again, I will tan your hide, you hear me? You need to get over yourself and stop being a whiny little bitch. If he sees something in you that the rest of us have seen for years, then God almighty, you better be giving it as good as you get.”

  “Ow,” I mumbled.

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a baby. There’s too many other people in the world who want nothing more than to kick you when you’re down. Don’t you dare do that job for them.”

  “You were talking to Sandy too, weren’t you?” I accused her.

  “Of course I was,” she said. “He’s fa
mily. And if he didn’t tell me what was going on, I wouldn’t be hearing about it at all since you keep all this to yourself.”

  I chewed on my thumbnail. “But what if he’s Freddie Prinze Junioring me?”

  “I don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about,” she snapped. “Maybe instead of making up words, you should focus on pleasing your man. Your old nana knows a thing or two about that, you can be sure.”

  “There are times in my life I wish I didn’t understand English,” I told her. “Hearing you say that is one of those times.”

  “Is he handsome?” she asked with a smirk.

  I blushed, unable to stop myself. “Quite hideous, to be honest.”

  “Uh-huh. That’s why you look like a tomato right now. I can’t wait to meet this young man if he’s got you all up in knots after only a few days. After all, you know what happened with your parents after a wee—”

  “No chance in hell,” I said. “And I’d appreciate if that was never mentioned to him. Ever.”

  “Wow. You were sure quick to protest that one.”

  “Nana, you don’t understand. He’s already convinced that he’s halfway in lo—”

  The doorbell rang, cutting me off.

  “Oh sweat balls,” I moaned. “This will be the second I’ll remember later on as the moment before the shit hit the fan.”

  “Language,” my father shouted from the kitchen.

  “Go get the door,” Nana said.

  “Butthole bitch,” Johnny Depp said.

  “You stay out of this,” I warned the bird. He eyed me warily through the bars on his cage. “For some reason, Vince wants to see you, but I swear to God if you keep up the whole time we’re here, I will put you in the washing machine.”

 

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