by Don Schecter
Emily considered what sounded like a great plan. “All right, just keep him away from me. I’m not in the mood for gay jokes right now.”
“And please, dear, don’t mention Ellis to Casey. It would destroy him.”
At that moment, Casey opened the door and called out, “Knock-knock. Gerbil delivery.”
Brett kissed Emily on the forehead and dragged Casey into the hall. Emily raised her brows, shook her head, and went back to the TV.
“What’s the problem, little buddy?”
“Em is having some issues. She needs rest and quiet.”
“Well, you can’t get it in this joint. It’s jumping outside.”
“That’s why you are helping us move out.”
Casey opened the door again and yelled, “Hello, Em. How’s my godson?”
“Geez, Casey. Keep it down, will ya? Are you paying attention?”
“Yeah. OK. Let’s get the job done, because you and I are going to get me some babe notches on my belt tonight.”
After they jockeyed the three heaviest boxes into the new apartment, Casey took a look around and whistled. “What is this place? Some homo decorator’s pad?”
“Ease up, this place is nice.”
“Yeah, if you like flowery shit.”
“A home is more for the woman anyway.”
“You’ve got two bedrooms. How about I crash here?”
Brett considered it for a minute. “Just for this one night, because Em will sleep at the hotel. Now let’s go get you a beer.”
When they found a likely-looking bar, it was near empty, and the few stragglers were leaving. Casey straddled a stool backwards and asked the barmaid in his sexiest voice, “Hey li’l darlin’, can a fella from a dry state still get a Bud tonight?”
“One round is all,” the girl said. She was tall and busty; her straight blond hair cascaded to her hotpants. “But I’d serve you, sugar, even if the bar was closed.” She put two bottles of beer on the bar, followed by two shots of Jack Daniels.
Casey placed his elbows on the counter and snuggled his nose right up against hers.
“You’re my kinda girl, baby. You look like back home to me.” He tried to hand one of the shots to Brett, who demurred. “I’m still a dues-paying member of the Latter-Day Saints, you may recall.”
“Yeah, but nobody’s lookin’, buddy. C’mon, loosen up, have a drink with me.”
Casey downed both shots of Jack as the bartender sauntered back up to them and refilled the glasses. “What’s the problem, darlin’? Why is this place so empty?”
“The Mayor just announced that all the vanished people are gay, and, with so many gone, it’s possible there might be looting. So he advised everyone to go home and stay there.”
Casey scooped up the two shots of Jack and threw them back one after another, then raised his arms and cheered loudly, as though he had just scored a touchdown. Brett, who heard this news for the first time, made a direct connection to that strange vision he had the previous night. He was stunned. “Hell,” shouted Casey at top volume, “we should celebrate.”
“Shut your mouth. Lots of my friends are gay.” The bargirl looked annoyed.
“Hey, this is a straight bar, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but I don’t care how cute you are, your attitude is not cool. Gays and straights are not enemies. This whole city’s falling apart without them.”
“My ass. Name one thing that’s messed up.”
“Your mind!” She snatched his beer away, and let him watch her hotpants shimmy to the far end of the bar.
Agitated, Brett grabbed Casey’s arm. “Let’s get out of here. I think I might have caused this. This disappearance thing has something to do with my work.”
“If you’ve got a job that zaps queers, I’m all for it,” Casey shouted in the direction of the barmaid as Brett pulled him away.
They drove to the Museum, but it was locked tight. Brett bought Casey a six-pack and they headed to the apartment. “Whatever you got to do can wait ’til mornin’,” Casey said on the drive back, already halfway through the beers. “Drinkin’ with your best friend can’t.”
Brett tried to tell him the whole story about the inscription, the gay genie, and the wish. Even buzzed, Casey wasn’t about to buy such a fairytale, but he played along because a bright idea popped into his head. “I don’ understand your problem, l’il buddy. You made the homos disappear. That’s a good thing.”
“But I can’t just leave them wherever they are.”
“Why the fuck not? Jesus Christ, why won’t anybody in this city celebrate with me?”
“Because these gays have lives and friends and relatives. You can see how empty the town is, and how much they’re missed.”
“Missed? Hell, you got this apartment because they’re gone. If they stay away, I could be head of the fire department in a year. You aren’t thinkin’ very clearly. Here,” he said, waving his open bottle under Brett’s nose, “have one li’l ol’ teensy beer. It’ll relax you and you’ll think better.”
Clearly distraught, Brett took a reluctant swig from the bottle he was handed as Casey headed to the bathroom. “I’m gonna get in the shower; I got a big day tomorrow.
“Hey, this shower’s big enough for two; it’s a double-header. Get your clothes off and get in here with me—like old times in the gym.
“I want you to know I didn’t come out here for the money, or to score with the babes; I came out to be with my oldest, and dearest…and only-est friend in the world.”
He had never said anything so honest in his life. Embarrassed, he quickly switched to jock-talk as Brett wandered into the bathroom, the empty bottle of beer still hanging from his fingers. “Hey, check out these biceps.”
“Huge, man.” The alcohol had gone straight to Brett’s head.
“C’mon, feel ’em. Hard as a rock.”
“Hey, I gotta get back. It’s late.” Brett tried to get turned around but staggered a bit and leaned heavily against the doorframe.
“No way, buddy. You’re in no shape to drive.”
“But Em wasn’t feeling well tonight,” Brett feebly protested .
“Call her. She’ll tell you not to drive. In any case, take a shower so you don’t go back smellin’ like a beer keg.” Casey manhandled an unresisting Brett. He removed his shirt, shoes, and socks for him. “When you left, you broke up the team.” Casey opened Brett’s belt and pushed his jeans to the floor.
“Sorry about that.” Brett said dully, “Geez, I’m not used to drinking.”
“I could move here and we could keep the team together. In a few years we’d be tossing a football with my godson. I mean this, bro; I was down big-time when you split.”
Casey turned on the shower and guided Brett into the stall with an arm around his shoulders. He crooned, “You and I always did everything together. Learned to be men together…”
“Casey,” Brett said.
“Learned about women, jerked off together…”
“Casey, this is really freaking me out.”
“It’s all right, buddy. I think we’ve got the same idea…”
“Your legs.”
Casey looked down and saw the shower tiles through his legs. He began to dance around, pounding his feet on the floor to prove they were still there. “Fuck. What’s happening?”
Brett was instantly sober. “Casey, what have I done?”
Casey clung to Brett as he continued to fade. “Hey, don’t let me go. Hold onto me, buddy.”
Brett put his arms around his friend. He felt Casey’s body pressed against his, but he could see his arms through Casey’s fading torso. Casey wailed, “Hey, I’m not even g…” but his voice cut out as Brett’s arms snapped to his chest. He stood alone in the shower.
Astonished, Brett turned off the water, grabbed his clothes, and hightailed it back to the hotel so quickly he had no memory of driving there. He rushed into the bedroom.
“Casey is gone! He just disappeared…” He broke of
f when he saw Emily was sweating and looking uncomfortable. “Em, what’s wrong?”
“I’m nauseated and cramping. I don’t feel right at all. We need to get to the ER.”
Brett shifted into a higher gear. His only thoughts were for his wife and son as he swiftly ushered Em out of the hotel. She was mobile, but clearly in great pain; it seemed forever to get to the hospital. When they arrived, the ER was overcrowded with people waiting for care. The triage nurse shrugged the Himbers away.
“My wife needs a doctor now!” Brett insisted.
“There’s no one available to see her; too many of our doctors went missing.”
Just then, a patient was wheeled to the admitting desk and discharged into the hands of her grateful husband. The nurse Emily had seen in the morning, working her third shift, noticed Emily and stopped the empty wheelchair in front of them. “Mrs. Himber, what’s wrong?”
“Karen! Thank heavens. The pains —” Emily was near hysterical tears. “They’re worse. I’m dilating again.”
“Come with me.” Karen ignored the admitting nurse, and plunked Emily into the vacant wheelchair. Brett trotted after them. Again, the sonogram showed a vague and murky picture.
Brett was thinking out loud. “You say, as the cervix dilates, the pains increase?”
“Yes,” Karen replied.
“And as the cervix dilates, the baby enters the world…enters San Francisco?”
“That’s an odd way to put it, but yes, exactly.”
“Can you feel inside, see if the baby’s all there?” The women looked at him in astonishment. “Nurse, I need to know.”
“Mr. Himber, that wouldn’t be good for the baby. He’s there, I assure you. I’ll check your wife in overnight. She can’t be moving around until we figure out what the difficulty is. I’ll be right back.”
Brett began pacing up and down, overwrought. “This is my fault. I’ve got to fix it, do something.”
Emily, between pains, said, “Honey, don’t worry. Karen will take care of it.”
“Do you think our son might be gay?” Brett said, almost to himself. “Do you think gays are born that way? I didn’t believe it.”
“Brett, you’re scaring me. What’s going on with you?”
He sat beside Emily and took her hand. “I made this wish that all the gays would disappear. A genie came out of an artifact and I wished all the gays away. And they all went, including the genie, the Vice President, and maybe our baby.”
Emily looked consolingly at him for a moment. Mormon women were schooled that, despite their own difficulties, a wife should support her husband in crisis; but then she realized he was speaking nonsense. “What are you doing, Brett? I’m having early labor and this is how you respond? I don’t need craziness now. I need you with me.”
“It’s not crazy. Our son is about to come out, and as he does, he’ll disappear. He’s part of the wish.”
“Get serious!” Emily said, her anger overriding her next pain. “Get a grip.”
“I am serious. I didn’t believe gays were born gay, but now I see it’s true. And Casey disappeared in front of my eyes.”
“I think the strain has you hallucinating.” She grasped her belly as she contracted violently. “I need a doctor, NOW!”
Brett left the room, calling for Karen, who took one look at Emily and ran back into the hall. She returned with another nurse and a doctor. They hustled Brett out the door and closed it firmly behind him. Brett was galvanized; he didn’t have much time to undo what he’d done. He dashed to the Museum, which was just opening for the day. The elevator slowed him down; otherwise he raced at top speed until he reached the artifact lab.
“Marq, Marq. Where are you? I need to talk to you.”
When there was no response, he started reading the inscription, which looked all wrong in daylight. But those were sounds a linguist trained in glyph analysis didn’t easily forget. He took a deep breath and, almost completely from memory, spoke aloud the necessary incantation. The green smoke began to flow from the box. Without waiting for Marq to consolidate, Brett squeezed his eyes shut and said in a determined voice, “I want to enter the dimension I created in my first wish.”
Suddenly Brett stood with a foot in both worlds. He saw an amusement park where the sun always shone and food was magically provided. Tedious callings like agriculture and waste disposal were not a problem under the magical laws that Marq had established.
Throngs of men and women were enjoying a wonderful party. He called Marq’s name and wished for him to appear.
The ornate doors of the dance hall burst open and Marq emerged at the head of a conga line, wearing a fantastical, fruit-laden turban. He slowly but rhythmically wound his way toward Brett. “Hello there, Mr. Self-centered. What’s on your narrow mind? How’s your perfect life progressing?”
“My wish ruined everything,” Brett wailed. “Everyone’s missing. Doctors, police, the Vice President. Even my friend Casey, and maybe my baby.”
“Take it easy, dude. No one is missing. Casey is right behind me, so is the Vice President, and your son is welcome here.”
Casey suddenly stepped out of the conga line, and right behind him, Branden Ellis, who took Casey by the hand. “Hey, look at me! At last I can be who I really am!”
“You’re not angry?”
“Hell, no. We’re one family here. I’m free. I’ve loved you since grade school, but I buried my secret because you would’ve hated me, the guys would’ve laughed at me, and my father would’ve beaten me to a pulp—he’s way more religious than your dad. But now I’m proud of it, and I can say it to your face. For the first time, I’m experiencing an inner peace. I don’t have to hate, or make fun of, anyone anymore.”
“Dude,” Marq said, “as you can see, we’re doing fine here, but you sure made a mess of things back there.”
“Well, I’m here to set things straight—pardon my language.”
“And how do you propose to do that? You’ve used up your three wishes getting here.”
“Lend me Otto’s third wish; it’s for a good cause.”
“My Lord, baby, I’m a genie, not a bank—I’ve got principles.”
Undaunted, Brett turned to the crowd. “Everybody, listen up. It’s time to go back, to return to your lives.”
No one was listening. They were all engaged in having fun—playing games and conga-ing. Brett made a megaphone of his hands. “Is there a doctor in the house?” At that cry, several hands went up, some involuntarily. “Policemen?” More hands. “Firemen? Military?” Brett was getting their attention now. “There are people dying back there because you aren’t around to save them, property being destroyed, crime going unchecked. We need you to come back!”
There was an unsettled murmur in the crowd. A guy from Flatbush catcalled, “Hey, siddown dere, ya straight bum! Yer the asshole what sent us here in the foist place.”
“I was wrong. We need you in every walk of life—to create balance, soften aggression: without you, governments turn reckless and self-serving, sports are ruined, we don’t eat as well, and everyone looks like hell. And for those of you with kids, they miss you and I know you miss them. Who’s going to teach them kindness, tolerance, and compassion if you don’t?” He was getting to them now. There was a definite rumble of approval growing in the crowd.
Brett continued with all the sincerity he could muster. “There are many people like I used to be—who think negatively about gays—but that number is shrinking. This fiasco will go a long way to show straights that gays are part of our lives, that we can’t be whole without you. We need you.”
Marq sensed the shift in sentiment he was waiting for. Things were going according to plan, and Marq saw that it was good. He piped up, “OK, people, what about it? For millennia, we asked them to give us a chance. Do we give them another chance?” He heard the roar of assent. “All right then, Mr. Maybe-I’ve-Learned-My-Lesson, say the words; but be on notice, this wish is on the house. You owe me one.”
> “God bless you, Marq.” With arms spread wide, Brett addressed the multitude. “We miss you, and we need to grow with you, so I wish all of you to return as you were.”
Gays appeared in cars that hadn’t been towed away yet. The ones whose cars had been towed found themselves sitting on the roadway with their hands in driving position on non-existent steering wheels. They had to find their own way home, to deal with insurance companies and the police, who were back in full force.
People popped up everywhere on the streets in exactly the position they had been.
Hairdressers, dryer and comb in hand, materialized behind empty salon chairs. The world was as it was, but it wasn’t the same. Vice President Morgan poked his head out of his deserted airplane, still parked on the tarmac, and called tentatively, “Halloo, Secret Service. Come out, come out wherever you are.” Agent Andrews, behind him, answered, “With all due respect, Sir, I think we all came out.”
Dogs and cats tumbled onto the grass in the parks and scrambled to find their way home to their feeding bowls. Fathers and mothers heard the happy cry of Daddy!
Mommy! as their children ran into their arms.
In the Museum, Floyd and Lloyd were standing in the main room with a third man.
“Hey Brett, come out here and meet Mr. Cobb.” Brett, snapped back into reality, and knew Em was his first and only priority. Dashing by the three gay men, he called over his shoulder, “Hi, Sir, glad you’re all home safe. Must run. Wife in the delivery room. Be back later!”
On the hospital’s twelfth floor, Emily was holding their newborn son in her arms.
Brett rushed in. “How’d the delivery go?”
The doctor replied, “Nip and tuck, son. Right up to the last moment, when everything corrected itself like a miracle.”
“Oh, Em, you did great. I love you.”
“I love you, too, dear. Would you like to hold him?” She gingerly handed their son to him.
Karen asked for the baby’s name for the hospital records, and Emily and Brett looked blank at each other. Deciding on a name had slipped their minds in the turmoil of the past few days. Just then, Brett heard a voice, as if from on high, and said, “How about Marq?”
