It was pretty clear from the icy stare I got in response that Great Uncle Sherman didn't appreciate my sense of humor either.
"Are you sure you're part of this family?" I asked my boyfriend.
"Not if you're his 'boyfriend'." The old man did such a good job of putting the word in quotes, I almost expected to see the little paired commas hanging in the air over his head.
"You can't be serious," Milton said. "You're kicking me out of the family?" He looked at his mother, but it was pretty clear he'd get no help from her.
I was about to offer to leave just to keep the holiday peace when Milton took my hand in his. He straightened his back, held his head high, and looked down his nose at his great uncle. "C'mon," he said to me. "I hear they're having a great Easter brunch at Casanova's."
We marched out of there like we were part of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, stopping only long enough to retrieve our shoes. I decided not to mention that I felt Milton trembling through our joined hands.
He held it together until we were back in the car. I slid behind the driver's seat and looked at him slumped in the passenger seat next to me.
"I could give you that kiss now," I said.
He leaned his head on my shoulder. "Maybe later," he said. "Right now I just think I need a hug."
That, I could do.
[?] [?] [?]
∗ ∗ ∗
We didn't go to Casanova's. While it's a pretty good nightclub with a healthy gay contingent, they don't do Easter brunch. It had been Milton's way of throwing an insult back at his great uncle, although I doubt the man had ever heard of the place.
Instead, we picked up sub sandwiches, which we ate in the car. When we were done with our not-so-brunchy brunch, we took in an afternoon matinee where we polished off a bucket of popcorn. We followed this up with ice cream sundaes. Who says we don't know how to celebrate a holiday?
It was nearly six by the time we got back to our apartment.
"Want to talk about it?" I asked after we'd both kicked our shoes off and settled next to each other on the couch.
"What? The fact that I just turned my back on my family?"
I took Milton's hand in mine. "Don't think that I'm not in awe of what you gave up for me, but do you really think that's going to stick after your great uncle goes back to wherever he came from?"
Milton looked down at our joined hands. "That's just the thing. He's not going back."
"What?"
"He's come to stay with my mother. Apparently it's her turn to put up with him now that he's getting up there in years."
Huh. Well, that wasn't good. Milton's mother might not be the warmest of women, but she was still his mother. His father had passed away when Milton was a teenager. Milton's father had provided well for his family, plus the first husband we weren't supposed to talk about had also been fairly well off. Milton and his sisters hadn't wanted for much, except maybe to play in the living room every now and then, and they'd managed to stay a close-knit if rather repressed family. I didn't know how I'd take it if my family suddenly kicked me out just because I was gay.
"Then we have to fix this," I said. "I can't have my stud muffin cut off from his family."
Milton tried to laugh, but it was a poor attempt. "How?"
"Well, I could knock off Great Uncle Sherman," I said. "We do watch CSI and Criminal Minds every week. I'm sure I could figure out how get rid of the old geezer and not get caught."
"Thanks, but I think I'd rather not spend the rest of my life visiting you in jail."
So much for my burgeoning career as a hit man for hire. "How about I go talk to him instead?"
"Because that worked so well today?"
I didn't point out to Milton that I actually hadn't done any of the talking to Great Uncle Sherman. At least, not until it was too late to do much damage.
We settled into a comfortable if subdued silence in front of the TV. We were both still stuffed from all the junk food we'd eaten, so no one brought up dinner. This gave me time to think, which is never a good thing.
In my thirty years of experience growing up and living my life as an openly gay individual, I've encountered homophobes like Milton's great uncle. Religious dogma is responsible in a great many instances, only Milton's family had never been religious. He would have told me if they'd spent their weekends either attending church or synagogue. That didn't mean Great Uncle Sherman wasn't religious, but I imagined if patriarchal tyrant Sherman went to mass on Sunday, everyone, including Milton's mother, would have gone to mass as well.
Something the old man said came back to me. We never had and never will have any gay people in this family.
That didn't seem random to me.
"Anyone else in your family gay?" I asked.
Milton tore his gaze away from the latest Pirates of the Caribbean movie showing for the umpteenth time on cable. Milton had the hots for Orlando Bloom. It didn't bother me since I reaped the benefits whenever one of the actor's movies showed up on TV.
"Not that I know of," he said.
"Huh."
Milton went back to ogling Orlando Bloom's drenched body, and I went back to ruminating about how to get my boyfriend back in the good graces of his family. I needed more information, but I didn't want to ask Milton. Hey, I'm as selfish as the next man when it comes to wanting my boyfriend all hot and bothered when we have unexpected time to kill.
I almost thought that Milton was too morose for that old Bloom magic to work when he turned toward me and said, "How about I shiver your timbers, me matey?"
Okay, so my stud muffin's a dork, but he's my adorable dork.
"Shall I play the helpless cabin boy and you play the lusty pirate?" I asked.
"Arrrgh!" Milton said, catching my wrists in a solid grip.
BEGINEXCERPT I should mention here that our most adventurous sex play probably seems tame by sex play standards. No whips, no chains, no bondage gear of any kind.
Except the handcuffs, which come in handy when we play pirate and cabin boy.
The handcuffs were a gift from my oldest sister, Veronica. She worked one summer as a cashier in a sex toys shop. My mother nearly died of embarrassment, which I think was part of the appeal for Veronica. All this happened around the time that Milton and I moved in together. Veronica, who loves me dearly and teases me relentlessly, took one look at Milton's bowtie and pocket protector and decided she needed to loosen him up.
Every week during that summer, a little gift from Veronica would show up in our mail wrapped in a plain brown box with a winking eye logo. At first, the gifts were fairly tame, such as the chocolate-flavored lube my stud muffin has a fondness for. The gifts progressed to dildos, butt plugs, cock rings, latex fetish items, whips, nipple clamps, and finally two sets of handcuffs padded with a fuzzy leopard print.
After Milton got over his embarrassment at getting sex toys as gifts from his significant other's sister, we did actually try out most of the gifts at least once. I admit to a fondness for one of the dildos, a big boy model that comes the closest to Milton's own sizeable equipment. Neither of us enjoyed the nipple clamps, cock rings, whips, or butt plugs, and we were both laughing too much to even try any of the latex fetish gear. The handcuffs, however...
Well, let me just say that my mild-mannered boyfriend turns into quite the passable pirate when we pull out the handcuffs. He could be imagining I'm Orlando Bloom and he's cuffed me to the--I'm never sure what pirate term is for what bad little cabin boys get cuffed to--but considering I'm the one he pounds into, I'm perfectly fine with the fantasy. ENDEXERPT
Tonight the handcuffs worked their miracle. Since our bedroom's not equipped like a pirate ship, we make do with the futon in the guest room. The futon has a black metal frame with spokes positioned just right to spread eagle this bad little cabin boy butt ass naked and ready to be ravaged by his pirate captain.
Before I met Milton, I never knew I'd have such fun being a bottom. Sure,
we switch from time to time, but whenever the handcuffs come out, my stud muffin's on top and I'm willingly underneath. He puts the soundtrack to one of the Pirates movies on the sound system and away we go.
This time there was a bit of an edge to Milton's pirate game play. Not that he hurt me, far from it. Milton's the most selfless boyfriend I've ever had, and if anything, I'm ready for him to slam into me long before he's done making sure his considerable package isn't going to do any damage. But tonight, for the first time, he asked if he could blindfold me. I had no problem with it because, let's face it, I was already handcuffed and spread wide, and if that doesn't spell trust, I don't know what does.
The interesting thing about wearing a blindfold was that I paid more attention to hearing what was going on, and what I heard bothered me. Milton was muttering to himself. Things about being a "bad boy" and "needing to be punished," which, given the pirate game play, were probably meant for me, the bad little cabin boy. But mixed in with that were words I'd never heard Milton use. Slang words. Hurtful words. And finally, the word his great uncle used.
I knew none of those words were meant for me.
Before I could say anything, Milton pushed into me, and my concern about his language got lost in the wonderful feel of my stud muffin fucking my brains out.
Afterward, Milton collapsed against my back. It took a few minutes, just like always, before he removed the handcuffs. By the time I worked up enough energy to take the blindfold off, Milton had already got up and left the room. I heard him turn on the shower.
That was odd. He usually waited for me. Playing pirate and cabin boy made us both work up a sweat, and a shower together was a great way to cool off, not to mention connect again as Milton and Chuck.
When I turned off the music, I discovered the reason Milton wanted to shower by himself. The sound was clear even over the hiss of running water.
My boyfriend was crying.
[?] [?] [?]
∗ ∗ ∗
The next day I called Ted from work.
"Tell me about Great Uncle Sherman," I said.
Ted worked as an account executive for a retail toy chain, which was a fancy way of saying he coordinated shipping toys across country so that little Mary Sue Smith could get whatever the most popular doll was even if she lived in a town in northern Montana that no one had ever heard of. The good thing about Ted's job was that he had an office with a door he could shut, and no one gave him grief about taking personal calls during business hours.
The good thing about my job was that I'm my own boss. I scripted advertising spots on a freelance basis, which meant my income was less than steady but I could pretty much set my own hours unless I was on deadline. So far none of my clients had given me a day-after-Easter deadline. Even if they had, I wasn't about to let my boyfriend stay in pain because of some pain-in-the-ass old fart, so my mission that Monday was to deal with Great Uncle Sherman as best I could, and that started with research. I figured Ted was my man.
"Hey, whatever happened to you guys yesterday?" Ted said. "I wanted to tell you what cool eggs you guys did, but you were gone before I got out of the bunny suit."
Huh. I guess Milton's mother wasn't forthcoming with any details to the rest of the family. That meant I had a chance to fix this mess before it got any messier.
"Sorry about that," I said to Ted. "Glad you liked the eggs. Now, back to Great Uncle Sherman..."
"Oh, yeah. That was a surprise, wasn't it? I mean, I don't expect my mother-in-law to clear any family stuff with me, but she usually tells Clarice all the family gossip."
And Clarice told Ted, hence the reason I called Ted in the first place.
"Milton tells me his mother was raised by the old man," I said. "You know anything about that?"
"Yeah, sure. I guess Gloria's parents died when she was a kid, some kind of car accident, and the girls got split up. Mildred went to live with her best friend's family, and Gloria got sent to live with her uncle Sherman."
"That must have been tough," I said, and I meant it. Not only had Milton's mother lost her parents all at once, she'd also been split up from her only sister.
"No kidding. Sherman was a single guy, and kind of an odd duck, from what Clarice tells me. He didn't know what to do with a kid. He sort of treated her like a miniature version of himself. All that white stuff in her house? I guess where he lived, he was the original Mr. Clean. White house, white clothes, and everything had to be spick and span, you know what I mean? You'd think she'd be sick of it. I know when I was a kid, I wanted to be the exact opposite of my parents, but I guess that's all she grew up with. She was kinda young when her parents died."
I hadn't heard any of this family history from Milton. "So was Sherman in the military?" I asked, thinking vaguely about white-glove inspection scenes I'd seen in various movies.
"I don't think so. Nobody ever mentioned it, and I don't think Sherman gets any kind of government pension. He's pretty much broke, had some investments that went south--didn't we all--and basically told Clarice's mom it was payback time for all the years and money he spent raising her. Nice guy, huh?"
Yeah. Nice guy.
Nice single guy.
"He ever been married?" I asked.
"Not that I know of." Ted laughed. "Without a whole lot of money to keep warm with at night, you know anybody crazy enough to marry a guy like that?"
Well, someone had married Milton's mother. Twice.
"Thanks for the help," I said.
"See you for Clarice's birthday party?" Ted asked.
Clarice was born in June. That would be the next big family get together. "I'm not sure," I said. "I hope so, but we might have to take a rain check."
Unless I could figure this out.
[?] [?] [?]
∗ ∗ ∗
Talking to Ted had given me a sneaking suspicion I wanted to follow up on.
Great Uncle Sherman had never been married. That in itself didn't mean anything. A lot of straight guys would rather play the field than settle down with one woman. But Sherman didn't strike me as the Casanova type. Besides, someone like Sherman wouldn't want to share a lover with anyone else; he'd rather have a wife he could control than a girlfriend he'd have to worry about leaving him.
Milton's mom had just turned fifty-five a few months ago. If she'd been too young to be rebellious when she went to live with Sherman, she couldn't have been any older than say ten. That meant she'd gone to live with Sherman when he'd been in his mid-twenties. And he was already a prissy control freak by then.
I've met a lot of closeted gay men in my life. Some hang out in places like Casanova, many even bring women as dates, but they can't keep their eyes off men like Milton and me. We're what they wish they could be but for whatever reason won't let themselves be. Sometimes it's religion that keeps men in the closet, sometimes it's family expectations. What had Sherman said? There'd never been or would be a gay man in their family?
It was pretty clear that no one, not even Milton's mother, had told Sherman that Milton was gay. Why not? In a close-knit family, even a repressed one, you'd think someone would have spilled the beans during the ten years Milton and I had been together.
Unless Great Uncle Sherman's homophobia was a well-known fact. But then again, Ted hadn't known why Milton and I left yesterday. This all made very little sense, except for the niggling thought that maybe Sherman had decreed no gay people would be allowed in the family because he himself was not allowed to be gay. Only thing was, I couldn't figure out who was stopping him.
All this ruminating was getting me no closer to reuniting my boyfriend with his family. I had some information and a lot of speculation. It was time to take the bull by the horns, as I've been known to say in various advertising scripts.
It was time to go see Great Uncle Sherman.
[?] [?] [?]
∗ ∗ ∗
Mrs. Grosbeck seemed more than a little surprised when she opened the door and
saw me standing on her front stoop. Maybe it was the fact that I'd worn cream-colored pants, a white polo shirt, and white leather shoes with white socks. Hey, it never hurt to try to make a good impression. Or maybe it was just the fact that I had the audacity to show up the day after my boyfriend and I had made such a grand exit.
"Hello," I said with a wide smile. "Is the Grinch home?"
She blinked at me. "That's a Christmas reference, Charles," she said.
"I'm sorry. How about the Mad Hatter?" If what I suspected was true, Great Uncle Sherman was closer to the White Queen, but she was a kindly, benevolent character. The Red Queen was a better fit personality wise, but I thought it had probably been over a half-century since the color red was a part of Sherman's wardrobe.
Milton's mother shook her head. "This is not a good idea," she said.
"Well, I'm fresh out of any other bad ones, which means this is the only one I've got. So is he here?"
She sighed, but she stepped away from the door to let me in. I dutifully took off my white shoes, thinking that it would be a shame Great Uncle Sherman wouldn't get the full impact of my white on white outfit. Which led to a question I've always wanted to ask.
"What is it with all the white, anyway?" I said.
Mrs. Grosbeck blinked at me again. It made me wonder if anyone had ever asked the question.
"It makes it easy to see when things are dirty, Charles. Other colors hide the dirt, but it always shows up on white."
I frowned, considering. "But doesn't that mean you're always cleaning? I mean, things do get dirty. Eventually."
"Not if you're vigilant."
Huh.
If I didn't know better, I might think Milton's mother had issues with people of color. But she had no problems with Roy, Mildred's beer-drinking husband, whose skin was the color of coffee without the cream. And then there was Dory. Milton's older half-sister had a deep olive complexion, black hair, and dark brown eyes. I had a feeling the Ex-Husband Not To Be Mentioned wasn't exactly an albino.
The Man With the Alabaster Heart Page 2
