by Z. B Heller
“Ask what? You already know how big my penis is.” I tried to smile at my joke. She’d asked on multiple occasions about my size, even threatened me once with a tape measure.
“Ryan, I’m trying to be serious here.”
Exhausted, I said, “Fine, what?”
She played with the wrapper of her sandwich. “Are you going to get tested?”
I wasn’t surprised at her question. “Yeah, I have an appointment tomorrow at the clinic. We’ve always used condoms.” I snorted. “Tom was the one to always insist on it. That should have been a clue right there. Better safe than sorry.”
I looked back down at my sandwich and thought about the last time Tom and I made love. It had only been two nights before I found out about his infidelity. Sex between Tom and me was nothing to write home about. I always felt like it lacked passion.
Most of our sex happened in bed because Tom didn’t like making a mess around the house. One time I tried giving him a blow job in the kitchen, and he stopped me because the thought of his come anywhere near food appalled him. He was also a very selfish lover, always wanting to get off first and, at times, not even returning the favor before he got up and did something for work. I ran a hand over my face, wondering why the hell I stayed with him for two years.
Brad Pitt: Oh, Ryan. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You were hurt, and you gave all you could. It’s okay to sit back and lick your wounds. No one blames you for Tom doing something so horrible to you. It’s all so tragic.
Steve Buscemi: You stupid fuck. You know why you stayed. Tom was there. You settled for the lesser man because you didn’t think you deserved more. You did the same thing, you fucking cheater. And the one you really wanted got away, didn’t he? Better go on YouTube for lessons and learn to become flexible. You’re going to need it because no one is going to suck your dick except for you.
“Listen, I think we need a little retail therapy.” Moxie snapped me out of my thoughts.
“I’m really not in the mood.”
“Don’t make me pull out the big guns.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” I put my hands on the marble breakfast bar and narrowed my eyes.
“You’re leaving me no choice.” Moxie took out her phone from her pocket and wiggled it in front of me, smirking.
“I can’t handle it, Moxie Summers; it might break me.”
Moxie looked down at the phone and swiped it with her finger. I watched as she pressed the numbers and held the phone up to her ear. A voice answered on the other end.
“We have a code two twenty-two in progress, and I need you to get here as soon as you can.” Moxie winked at me. The voice on the other end squealed and did some fast-paced talking. Moxie swiped the phone to end the call and looked at me with her hands on her hips, smiling.
“You are an evil bitch.”
She let out a cackling laugh and rubbed her hands together. “You better get dressed before she comes.”
“No, I’m not doing it. I won’t sink to that level.” I stomped away like a four-year-old having a hissy fit.
A half hour later, the doorbell rang, and Moxie went to go open it. I was sitting on the sofa, remote firmly in my hand, surfing for mindless television when Moxie came strolling back into the room with my other best friend, Renee, hot on her heels.
“Ryan,” she said in an angelic voice. She sat next to me on the couch, but I didn’t turn to look at her. I wouldn’t fall into their trap.
“Renee,” I muttered.
Renee was my other best friend. When Moxie, Renee, and I went out together, people knew there was going to be destruction somewhere in the city. She met her boyfriend Raj at one of the many parties that Tom and I hosted at a time when I’d stupidly thought we were happy. How very wrong I had been.
“Ryan, you have twenty seconds to hand over the remote and go upstairs to change,” Renee said in a tone that was so sweet it could have been laced with sugar. I knew better. Renee looked like sugar on the outside but was all spice in the inside. Neither Moxie nor Renee had a problem expressing how she felt, good or bad. I glanced at Moxie. She was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed and a wicked smirk plastered on her face.
“I’m not moving, so the two of you can just fuck off.”
I caught Renee looking over at Moxie, and Moxie gave her a nod. Fuck, this was not happening. I would not let them get to me. The first sounds of sniffling came from Renee. No, I wasn’t going to crack. Then more sniffling, followed by a little hiccup. I glanced at Renee out of the corner of my eye. She had tears streaming down her face, and her bottom lip quivered.
“Please, Ryan. Do it for us,” Renee whispered.
Fuck. I squeezed my eyes shut and bowed my head in defeat. The girls knew I had a weakness for tears, and Renee had some fucking mystical ability to cry on cue. She would have made a fantastic Mexican soap opera star.
“Fine, you assholes, I’ll get changed. But I dictate where we shop.”
Renee jumped up off the couch and wiped the fake tears away. “You got it, boss.”
I sat in the waiting room of Dr. Fredricks’ office. After I’d healed from the incident with my father, I decided it was time I made some significant changes in my life. The first thing I did was enroll in martial arts classes. Even though I’d pressed charges against my father, and he had served time in prison for assault, I never would let another person put their hands on me again. The martial arts did more for me than show me how to defend myself. It transformed my body and my state of mind. I gained confidence and learned ways to help deal with stress, which came in handy considering I’d been entering med school.
It had been time to deal with a greater fear: coming out. If I was to ever be truly happy, I needed to be honest with others and myself about my sexual orientation. I started going to The Center on Halsted, a place that supported the LBGTQ community in Chicago. I found a Dr. Fredricks, who helped me come to terms with my sexuality and the torment of my past. Slowly, I’d been able to become more comfortable around people and to tell them I was gay. It certainly wasn’t something I shouted from the rooftops, but it was something that I no longer hid.
Dr. Fredricks helped me realize that there was support and love in the LGBTQ community and I was safe amongst my peers. I even met my first serious boyfriend, Brad, during a co-ed volleyball game at The Center. I’d accidently hit him in the face when I spiked the ball. I told him I was a doctor and could reset his nose. He said he was a lawyer and would sue my pants off. I didn’t have to reset his nose, and he didn’t sue me, but our pants did come off. It hadn’t worked out between us, but we’d ended it amicably.
When Dr. Fredricks left the Center on Halsted to start his practice, I followed him there. I’d told him I owed him for helping me find myself. He’d said I was never lost, just given the wrong directions. I didn’t see him on a steady basis anymore, but I came in when I felt the need to work some things out. Lately, my nightmares had come back, and I thought it was time to discuss them with the excellent doctor.
Dr. Fredricks opened the door to the waiting room. He was an older gentleman with graying hair and kind eyes. Legend had it at The Center that he was quite the dashing heartbreaker in his younger years. His husband of thirty years had been the one to tame his youth and capture his heart. I teased him and called him a reformed manwhore. He fired back and called me a manwhore in the making.
“Dr. Ford, nice to see you.” Dr. Fredricks flashed a smile and stuck out his hand.
I shook his hand. “You know I feel like an ass when you call me Dr. Ford.” I laughed.
“For all that time you spent in med school, you’ve earned the title.”
“But you’ve known me way before the title. You’ve helped trough all my issues during school.”
“Yes, the major one being if you wanted to specialize in obstetrics or urology.” He elbowed me in the ribs lightly as he led me into his office.
“Well, there is something special about bringing a new life into the worl
d.”
“Hmm, that is very interesting. Could that be because you decided at the same time to create a new life for yourself?” He smirked as he sat in his chair.
I huffed and rolled my eyes at him. “Really? That’s the best you can come up with?” I replied, taking a seat in the overstuffed loveseat across from him.
“Hey, I just want you to get your money’s worth.” He chuckled. “So, Brandon, what’s been going on?”
I ran my hand over my face and went over in my mind where I wanted to start with this. “I’ve been having nightmares about the past. I can’t seem to shake them.”
“Mmm-hmm,” he replied. He sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers.
I looked at him, hoping I’d get more than that.
“The dreams aren’t of my dad. I think I buried that a while ago.” I shifted in my seat. “They’re of a person who hurt me in the past.”
“Was it someone you were close to?”
I had been open with Dr. Fredricks about my father and my coming out, but the one person I should have talked to him about was Ryan. I didn’t the nerve to face my feelings back then and since then with myself.
“You could say that.” I allowed myself to visualize Ryan for the first time in a long time. I closed my eyes and remembered his chestnut hair that waved like wheat in the wind. The hazel eyes that expressed more emotions than I could count. The smooth skin on the back of his hands that begged me to caress it every time we were close. The way he laughed with his whole body and smiled so wide it was bigger than the Grand Canyon. Ryan was magnificent, and I relished the memories of him. But dark clouds of pain and rejection soon covered any goodness he brought to mind. “It was my best friend,” I finally said softly.
“Why is this the first time I’m hearing about your friend?” His forehead creased.
“I don’t think I was ready to talk about him. I’ve had him buried pretty deep for twelve years.”
“That’s a long time to sit on something. Are you ready to talk about it now?”
“Yes, I think so. It’s something I need to deal with because I think it’s stopping me from having any lasting relationships.”
Dr. Fredricks crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in his chair. “Why is that?”
“Because not only was Ryan my best friend, I was also in love with him.” Saying his name out loud after all that time felt foreign on my tongue. It also made me feel guilty and anxious.
“Did Ryan return the sentiments?”
“Yes, I think so. He had been out when I met him in high school. We became fast friends after he rescued me from some guys bullying me at school. I felt an instant attraction to him, but I didn’t know how to deal with any of those feelings. On the night of his graduation party, I let my guard down and kissed him, but I instantly made up some excuse that it was a mistake. Later, when we went to college, I finally gave in to my feelings for him after a night at a drag club. I couldn’t take it anymore; I felt like I was going to burst if I didn’t have him.” I smiled at the memory. “He was my first sexual encounter—it was unbelievable. I never felt such an emotional high like that before.” I paused when my stomach cramped as I relived the feelings from that day.
“But?”
“Ryan wanted me to shout to the entire universe that I was gay and that we were a couple. I panicked and told him I wasn’t ready. He thought I was going to use him as my secret gay fuck buddy and that I was too scared to be his boyfriend. He was hurt and lashed out. He gave me an ultimatum; he didn’t want us to be a secret. He dropped me off at my place and said if I wanted to be with him, meet him at the drag club that night. I struggled with it all day, but I didn’t want to be without him for another minute. When I was about to leave for the club, my dad showed up.” Tears stung my eyes as I focused on the memory. Part of me had forgotten how painful that night had been, perhaps as a way to protect myself, but all the emotions were flooding my brain at once. Anxiety flitted around my chest.
“After the fight with my dad, I went to Ryan’s apartment to talk to him. I was all banged up: black eye, split lip, and two bruised ribs. But I was determined to talk to Ryan. I wanted him to know that I loved him and I would do anything to be with him.”
Dr. Fredricks remained silent and listened, nodding his head for me to continue. It was one of the things I liked about him. He didn’t put his two cents in while I talked.
I continued. “When I got to his apartment, I knocked on the door. However, it wasn’t Ryan or his roommate who answered; it was a guy I’d never seen before. Turns out when I didn’t show up at the club, Ryan got drunk and slept with a random guy. Words were exchanged, and I left I haven’t seen Ryan since.”
Seeing the stranger in his underwear and then Ryan wrapped in nothing but a sheet was burned into my memory. My heart felt like it was going to explode into pieces, just like it had that day. The one person I loved had betrayed me in more than one way. I’d opened up to him about my past, my feelings, my sexuality and he’d thrown all my trust back in my face.
“I’m sorry you went through that,” Dr. Fredricks said. “And I’m glad that you felt it was a time you dealt with it. First loves are the toughest to get past, and since it ended negatively, I can see why it’s impacted your present relationships. Tell me about the dreams you’ve been having.”
“It’s the same dream over and over. One second Ryan and I are making love, and then it turns into us fighting about me coming out publicly. A faceless man shows up and takes Ryan’s side of the argument. Both of them call me names: loser, fag, homo. Then the man takes Ryan away while I’m on my knees, clawing at his feet and screaming for him to stay. I usually wake up soaked in sweat.”
“Your brain is doing what it can to deal with the drama of losing him. Sometimes when we break a close relationship in a negative way, our subconscious tries to resolve things through our dreams.”
I slumped down in the chair and huffed. “Chances of me seeing him again are zero, so it’s not like I can deal with this in the conscious state.”
Dr. Fredricks leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “That’s why you pay me the big bucks.” He smiled, reminding me that I did trust him completely and he would do everything in his power to help me get through the pain of my past. It was time to fully move on and put Ryan behind me once and for all.
I just witnessed one of most disastrous events I’d ever seen. My best friend Moxie, who is a solid eight months pregnant with twins, attempted to marry her fiancé in what can only be described as a hidden camera television special. Moxie’s stepmonster, Martha, had deceived the family by telling Moxie her dad was dying of cancer, leaving Moxie an emotional wreck. That left Martha in control of the whole wedding planning, and she’d arranged the wedding of her dreams, not Moxie’s. In the end, we all found out about Martha’s lies, which had led Moxie to go all Chuck Norris on Martha, slamming her into the horrid, Italian Mafia-style wedding cake. The ceremony never took place because soon after the cake wrestling, Moxie went into labor.
Miles did everything to keep Moxie calm while pointing me in several different directions to help out. I went to the valet to get Miles’s car and realized—since his was the wedding getaway car—I had to remove the thirty cans and ribbons that were tied to the back of it. It had taken a lot of work to empty those Coke cans. I’d been on a caffeine high for three days straight. Once we got a very delusional Moxie into the car, I promised Miles I would stay at the hotel to make sure the guests were taken care of and didn’t try to kill Moxie’s stepmom. Then I planned to go to the hospital to see my new niece and nephew.
It took about two hours to get everything settled while I kept in contact with Miles and Renee. According to them, Moxie was in shock and kept cursing at people to drug her up. To me, she sounded totally like herself, but who was I to judge? I loosened my tie and opened the first button of the tux shirt. With all the commotion that had gone down, I felt like I was suffocating in my penguin suit
. When the valet pulled my Prius to the curb, I dug for cash in my pockets to give the guy a decent tip.
It took me thirty minutes to get to the hospital. I pulled into the parking garage, ready to take the ticket from the man sitting in the booth. He has some mustard dotted throughout the course hair of his thick mustache, and I could only imagine he was coming back from his dinner break.
“Well, hello there, young man!” His voice boomed.
“Hey.” I gave a little courteous wave.
“Whatcha driving there? One of those fancy new cars?”
“Umm, I don’t know if I would consider it fancy; it’s a Prius.” I started to tap my fingers impatiently on the car window.
“Looks like you’re coming from someplace special.”
What the hell was with the twenty questions? He must have been bored out of his mind siting in a garage attendant’s booth all day.
“You know… when I married the wife thirty years ago, I looked just like you.”
I seriously doubted that. “That’s nice. Is this where I get the parking ticket?” I asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.
The man—Stanley, as his nametag read—crossed his arms and looked out the window. “Thirty years of marriage is a long time. We’ve been through a lot together. You should’ve seen it when I brought sex toys into the bedroom the other night. Her face was priceless.”
I about barfed. What the fuck did he just say? Did I somehow enter the Twilight Zone without knowing? I shook off my shock. There was plenty I’d done in life to deserve this. Like laugh like a hyena at a guy’s dick when I signed in to a live gay webcam show. I brought my train of thought back to the present.
“That’s sounds delightful.” I squared with him. “Stanley, is it? I need you to focus. My best friend is in labor, and if I don’t get to her, she’ll cut off my balls and serve them to you and your wife as an anniversary dinner.”
Stanley clucked his tongue, handed me one of the paper tickets, and lifted the gate. Then he chuckled. “Don’t wanna lose your balls. The girls will have nothing to jiggle.”
