by Jay Quinn
Meg walked past him with her makeup kit into the palatial master bath. She selected a sink from the pair on the marble vanity top and methodically began removing her makeup. “Austin?”
He walked into the master bath and sat on the edge of the large soaking tub opposite the vanity. “What?”
“You said you knew those two next door from college, didn’t you? I can’t remember either one of them.”
Austin scratched his shoulder absently and thought a moment. “There’s really no reason why you should. Don’t you remember my roommate that last semester when we were seniors?”
“Eddy?”
Austin responded to her inquiring look in the mirror. “Yeah, Eddy. Those two were in the band with him. I don’t really know them, I just met them a couple of times. Once when I came home without you and they were crashing at the apartment.”
Meg washed her face with a cloth and some soap she pulled from her makeup bag. Her eyes never left her own face as she lathered her cheeks, nose, and forehead with gentle circular motions. “When was the other time? Why wasn’t I with you?”
“I don’t know where you were the first time, but the second time I know you were back home doing wedding stuff. It was at the end of the semester. Rory had the band play at his senior show. He was an art major.”
Meg rinsed her face precisely three times. Following the third, she patted it dry with another clean cloth and said, “Well that figures. What does he do now? Lay around the house and paint?”
Austin shrugged. “No, he said he’s an electrician. Bruno says he’s a commercial lighting designer.”
Meg chuckled and searched in her bag thoughtfully before pulling out two small jars. She screwed the lid off one and touched the pad of her right little finger into the crème. “And what does Bruno do? He looked very buttoned down. He mentioned his office was downtown.”
Austin stretched, then readjusted himself in his jockeys. “He’s an investment analyst. My god, can you imagine that one snooping around your business like a bull in a china shop?”
“Please don’t do that,” Meg said as she rubbed the crème around the outside of her eyes.
“Don’t do what?” Austin said defensively.
“Tug at your privates like that. It’s vulgar. The boys are picking it up,” she said as she looked at his reflection in the mirror.
Austin sighed. “The boys are probably tugging at themselves because their nuts are knotted up in their drawers. It’s uncomfortable, you know.”
“Well, that may be the case, but I don’t like to look at it. Every guy I know does it. It’s like all of you are afraid your balls are going to jump off and run away.”
Austin snickered.
Meg reattached the lid to her first jar of crème, then picked up the larger of the two jars and unscrewed its lid, “You’re no help. Can you believe what Joshie said to Rory? He called him a goddamn hippie. I don’t care if they got the joke. I didn’t think it was funny at all. We’ve really got to start monitoring their television better. I don’t want them watching South Park, okay?”
Austin stood and started for the door, “Okay, whatever.”
Meg rubbed the crème from the second jar over her forehead and cheeks. “Wait, hon… don’t take off. You never finished telling me about the second time you met Rory and Bruno.”
Austin looked at his wife’s reflection in the mirror. Her face gleamed in the bright bank of lights over the mirror as if she’d been greased. Without her makeup, she looked oddly featureless, as if she had wiped away all the personality from her face. “There’s not much to tell,” he said. “I looked at his art while the band played, and afterward I went up and said hello. It was no big deal.”
Meg turned from the mirror and smiled. “C’mon. Something about it must have stuck with you for you make the connection with those two faces after so many years.”
Austin looked away from her blank face and stared up at the ornate crystal chandelier hanging from the bath’s ceiling. “They were taking a break outside the gallery in the art building, you know where I’m talking about… that brick wall about three and a half feet high? They had their shirts off and were wearing these wings…”
“Wings?” Meg said incredulously.
“Yeah. It was part of the show. Bruno had on black feathered wings that were huge. Rory had a smaller pair—white ones—but now I remember he’d taken his off. Anyway, Bruno was sitting up on the wall and Rory was standing between his legs, leaning back against Bruno’s chest.” Austin looked down from the chandelier and found Meg’s face. “Here’s the weird part. Bruno had one arm around Rory’s waist and was thumping his stomach like he was still playing bass. It was like he was playing Rory.”
“No wonder it stuck in your mind,” Meg said and turned her attention back to the vanity where she meticulously began placing her various jars back into her makeup bag. “That sounds like an awfully intimate thing for them to be doing out in public.”
Austin watched her, wondering why she didn’t just leave her cleansing and night crème things out. They’d be living in the bathroom from now on. It was an unnecessary point. Meg liked everything to have a place and everything to be in its place. Offhandedly he said, “I bet those two have been together longer than you and I have.”
Meg zippered her bag closed and turned toward him once more. “Still, they’re gay. What kind of a life is that, no matter how much they’re devoted to each other? No kids to love and raise. It’s not natural; it just goes against the grain somehow. I mean, look at Bruno. What a waste. There are single women my age who are really missing out because those two are still experimenting, for godssakes.”
“And what about Rory?”
Meg shrugged. “Oh, he’s too pretty for my taste. But Bruno, oh my god. I guess Rory’s lucky to have him.”
“So you like Bruno, huh? Am I going to have to keep an eye on you two?” Austin teased.
Meg gave him a scornful look. “Not really. He’s good-looking, but I run into his type every day. I work in an office full of guys just like him. Sharks in coats and ties and none of them with an ounce of respect for women. He’s all macho bullshit as far as I’m concerned.”
“He’s the man of the house, that’s for sure. Rory plays up to it. You should have seen him jump to bring us out some beers. All Bruno did was look at him. And the way Bruno pulls him around by the neck like he was five years old. Oh man…”
Meg giggled. “No question who’s the pitcher and who’s the catcher there.”
Austin laughed. “Ya think?”
Meg nodded and cut him a long look. “Next time you see Rory, check his elbows for carpet burns.”
Austin shrugged and held out his hand for her. “Never question the tie that binds, my dear. Never question the tie that binds.”
CHAPTER THREE
Sundays go like this…
ST. MARK’S COURT
THE GROCERIES SHIFTED and settled as Rory pulled up m his drive and shut off the Volvo’s engine. Unlike Bruno, he didn’t make the tires or the emergency brake of his station wagon squeal as he came to a full stop. Rory always thought Bruno had a wager with himself that he could actually touch the garage door as he stopped before he crashed into it. But then Bruno never had a car loaded with groceries. Rory pulled off his sunglasses, tucked them in his visor, punched the garage door opener clipped there, and got out of the car. He paused to stretch before he headed around the car to gather the groceries.
“Good morning, Rory,” Austin said.
Rory looked up to see his neighbor of two weeks striding down the sidewalk toward him, dressed in a coat and tie. He looked handsome and boyish, and Rory smiled. “Good morning. What are you doing up and dressed so fine on a Sunday morning?”
Austin stuck his hands in his dress pants pockets. “We’re on our way to church. That is, if Meg and the boys will ever get the hell out of the house and into the car. What are you doing just coming home at this time of morning?”
Ror
y gave him a smile as he opened the Volvo’s back hatch and glanced at his grocery bags. The contents had spilled and rolled. Looking back at Austin, he said, “Actually, I have you beat. I’ve already been to church and done some grocery shopping.”
Austin whistled. “What church do you go to, that you’ve attended and gotten groceries by ten o’clock?”
Rory strolled the few feet of sidewalk to meet him and said, “I go to eight o’clock mass. There’s an Italian market that opens early near my church, so I always swing by there and pick up some things to cook on Sunday. “
Austin nodded. “And where’s Bruno?”
Rory snorted, rolled his eyes and smiled. “Bruno goes to St. Mattress. It’s about time I get in and wake him up. What church do you guys go to?”
Austin glanced over his shoulder to his front door, and then looked at his watch. “Oh we’re Baptists.” Noting the look of instinctive alarm on Rory’s face, he quickly added, “But not fundamentalists. We belong to a very forward-thinking church. It’s more of a sort of Baptist-lite kind of place. We’re not intolerant, believe me.”
Rory gave him a long look through his heavily-lidded eyes and, finally, an open smile. “It’s none of my business, really. I’m not intolerant myself.”
Austin thought that Rory always looked as if he just woke up, and just woke up from being thoroughly fucked. He couldn’t decide if it was studied or completely natural, but there was an erotic undercurrent to it that made him a little uncomfortable. After a moment, he said heartily “Well, that’s good to hear.”
Rory nodded toward Austin’s house. “Are you settling in? Feeling at home?”
Austin nodded, and taking his hands out of his pockets he opened his arms slightly. “I suppose so. I work from home, so I’ve had more of a chance to get acclimated. The boys seem as if they’ve always lived here. Meg has underestimated her commute, I think. The traffic on I-595 is a bitch at rush hour.”
Rory took a half step toward Austin and said, “I thought I saw your minivan around a lot. You know, I work from home too. Are you often on the road?”
Unconsciously, Austin was aware of his step closer into his comfort zone. He was inclined to take a step back, but decided to stand his ground. “I’m only out when I have appointments. Some weeks it’s hectic, but it’s been slow lately. It’s taken some getting used to, staying home so much.”
Rory smoothed his longish bangs back from his forehead. Austin recalled his haircut from their college days. Rory’s hair was cut much the same, only in a shorter version. It caught the sun, neither red nor gold but a kind of blond streaked lighter on top than the light chestnut underneath. “Why is that? Haven’t you worked from home for awhile?” Rory asked.
Austin did take a step back from Rory then. “No. I… I’ve only had this job a few months. I was downsized from a company I worked for in Boca. It was a high-tech firm, and you know how all that went in the crapper. I was an assistant chief financial officer. I was unemployed for awhile before I found this sales job.”
Rory opened his eyes and sought out Austin’s. “That sucks. I’m sorry to hear it.”
Austin felt no condescension in his voice. He shrugged. I’m doing the medical equipment sales thing while I’m looking around. I have a ton of resumes out there. It’s just tough right now. It can’t last forever.”
Rory dropped his eyes, and when he lifted them again Austin found empathy, not pity. “Don’t give up, Austin. It’s all cycles. You just have to ride them out.”
“I hear you, man,” he said. “It just does something to you when you’ve been getting up and heading into an office every day of your whole adult life. I miss that, you know? Even the typical office bullshit.” Austin straightened his spine and squared his shoulders and said, “But why am I bothering you with all this? My little red wagon to pull, you don’t need to hear all this shit out of me.”
Austin would have expected anyone else to mumble something appropriate, or to punch him in the arm and tell him to suck it up. Rory did an amazing thing; he cocked his head and said, “It must get awfully lonely beating your head against the wall trying to move CAT-scan machines or whatever. Don’t put yourself in a cell, man. If the walls start closing in on you, give me a call, come have a beer. Don’t forget I’m always trying to hustle clients and projects just like you are. I’m around if you…”
“Dad! Dad! Mom says you left the coffee pot on,” Josh scolded from the front door.
“So tell her to turn it off and come on! We’re going to be later than we already are!” Austin shouted back. As his son darted back into the house, he looked at Rory with mock panic and said, “I left the coffee pot on. I’m in big trouble.”
Rory laughed. “Well, look… I’ve got to get my groceries in and see if Bruno’s still snoring. Hang in there, buddy.”
Austin found himself smiling in reply. “I’ll do that.”
Rory nodded. “Well. I’ve got groceries to get in.”
Austin fiddled in his pocket and jiggled his car keys. “It’s good to see you, Rory. To tell you the truth, I feel kind of marooned out here. You guys are the only people who’ve spoken to us since we moved in.”
Rory’s eyes darted toward Austin’s crotch, following the sound of the keys’ muffed jangle. “It’s not the most welcoming place,” he said as his eyes quickly found Austin’s once more. “Most of our neighbors keep to themselves. But Bruno and I are just as bad.”
Austin had noted Rory’s furtive glance. He removed his keys from his pocket and jauntily tossed them in the air, catching them neatly before he said, “Don’t you guys socialize with old friends?”
Rory let slip a small laugh that betrayed some feeling Austin couldn’t identify. “Most of our friends are business-related. Bruno and I are so complete as a unit, we’ve never had many friends.”
“Really?”
Rory nodded and looked toward his car. “I guess we’re just jealous of our time with each other. Bruno’s away a lot on business, and when he’s home, we… well, we just don’t seem to have a lot of time for other people.”
In a way, Austin felt something akin to both wistfulness and jealousy for a time when he and Meg were just as closely knit. He said, “Then you must be lonely when he’s away.”
Rory laughed, this time more genuinely. “I’m pretty self-amusing.” Then his face betrayed the need to explain himself. Rory’s forehead crinkled with earnestness as he continued, “I know I must sound like an asshole. We’re really not antisocial…”
“You’re just two busy people.” Austin finished for him. “No need to explain.”
“That’s not to say we wouldn’t enjoy getting to know you guys,” Rory added quickly. “We’ve just never had neighbors who seemed to want to know us better. We’ve spent years living in family-type neighborhoods. Bruno’s kept us moving up the real estate ladder so we never have lived anywhere longer than a couple of years. And, you know, people with kids don’t seem to have too much in common with two gay guys.”
Austin gripped his keys in his fist. He suddenly understood a great deal. “I’d say they cheated themselves out of knowing you two.”
Embarrassed, Rory looked away. “That’s a very nice thing to say, Austin.”
Austin glanced toward his front door. “No, it’s not just nice. It’s true. We don’t socialize much ourselves. Between work and the boys’ extracurricular activities, there’s not much time for adult conversation. All of our friends only talk about kid stuff or work. It can become tedious.”
Rory nodded.
“Look. Why don’t we try to get together sometime, you and me and Bruno and Meg? We can talk about college days if nothing else. I’d like that.”
Austin noted a blush rise over Rory’s cornflakes-and-cream complexion. He nervously ran a hand through his bangs and smiled. “Sounds good.”
Austin heard his front door open. Both he and Rory turned to see the boys spill from the doorway, followed by Meg. Dressed in their Sunday finest, they seemed
vivid to Rory, almost as if their dress clothes were too tight to contain the fullness of the life that boiled beneath them.
“Good morning!” Meg exclaimed as she caught sight of Rory.
“Good morning, Meg,” he replied. “You guys look great all dressed up on a Sunday morning.”
“Thanks, Rory,” she replied distractedly as she searched in her pocketbook. Finding her keys, she turned away to lock the front door.
The boys ignored their father and Rory as they flung open the passenger doors of their mother’s Range Rover and climbed in.
“Take it easy, Austin,” Rory said.
“You too, buddy,” Austin replied with a smile.
Shyly, Rory returned his smile before he turned and strolled away, eagerly putting as much sidewalk as he could between Austin’s front yard and his Volvo’s open back hatch.
5150 ST. MARK’S COURT
BRUNO IDLY CLICKED through all the available channels on the plasma television screen mounted on the family room wall. Tucked into the corner of the sectional sofa with Rory lying between his legs and comfortably resting against his chest, he settled on one of the ongoing recaps of World War II on the History Channel. “TV sucks,” he said to the top of Rory’s head as he put the remote on the coffee table. Rory mumbled as he turned the page of the novel he had perched on his own chest.
“How’s your book?” Bruno asked.
“I have never read a more pointless novel in my life,” Rory responded, and he pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.
“Bored?” Bruno asked and stretched.
Rory closed his book and reached around Bruno’s angled leg to place it next to the remote. “Buzzed?” he asked Bruno.
“Mellow,” Bruno responded, and gently reached with both hands to remove Rory’s glasses, which found their way onto the coffee table as well. “I was thinking about going for a swim. Wanna join me?”
